Friday, July 21, 2006

Somewhere Between Unsure and a Hundred


I got a Myspace message a few days ago from a girl in my high school graduating class. They're in the middle of planning a reunion and need my current address.

A reunion?!

No way. Not yet. Convinced she was mistaken, I counted back the years since I walked across the stage in the gymnasium of Hanover Central High School. Yep - five.

Holy shit. It's time for my high school reunion. But I haven't even done anything with myself yet! I have no stories to share, no life experiences to brag about, no successes with which to make my old bullies jealous. The popular girls who shunned me then will have no reason not to continue shunning me now.

I always imagined myself returning to my old high school as a fabulous success - someone who's traveled the world and come home with a story and a love interest from every country. I would be stunning, and I'd dazzle my hillbilly classmates with my exotic stories and sense of humor. At least I'd be published in a handful of notable journals, my first collection of poetry to be released in the following months. At the very least I'd have a man's arm to cling to, someone to ask my old friends with baited interest what I was like when I was younger, someone to introduce everyone to as having taken some sort of pride in being with me, someone to talk and laugh with on the drive home about who's a loser and who got bitchy.

As it stands, I will be attending the reunion alone, sans fabulous man enraptured with my presence and dying to unearth the small piece of my personal history that was high school. I have never been published, barely traveled outside of Indiana, and haven't quite yet developed those great stories or sense of humor.

I guess I just thought I had more time.

8 comments:

ChrisWoznitza said...

Hi ich bin Chriswab aus Bottrop. Viele GrĂ¼sse !!

Phil said...

It's ok, Becky....a lot of people (including me) dread their reunions for the same reasons. I'm a little surprised, I guess, to hear that you're having a 5-year reunion....G-town Class of '97 didn't have one. Here's what I'd do....tell yourself that all of those ideals were meant for your TEN year reunion. See? You've just bought 5 more years!

Oh, and don't feel bad...I'll be going to my 10 year reunion (holy fucking shit, next YEAR) 'sans fabulous man enraptured with my presence and dying to unearth the small piece of my personal history that was high school' as well.

Melanie said...

I find out outrageously interesting and think you have done all sorts of stuff since graduation.

Plus, you're better than everyone there because you don't have a kid yet. One point for Becky!

Frema said...

You are WAY too hard on yourself. You have graduated from college, have a great career-driven job, live independently from your parents in a very cool apartment, and drive a pretty car. I went to a Catholic school in Chicago, and I STILL can't tell you how many of my classmates had babies before they graduated. Many started college but didn't finish.

In between all your soul-searching, don't forget to give yourself some credit.

Also, I had to miss my five-year reunion because I had to attend my first Scholarship Dinner! But I soooo would've gone if I could.

Luke said...

I didn't go to my 10-year high school reunion because I thought I didn't do enough with my life to justify and face my former peers. But I regretted not going later and found out that most people were in similar boats as I was. I bet you'll find that most people will just be glad to see you and catch up rather than compare and contrast each achievements.

Melanie said...

Hello Miss Becky-
I thought you'd be amused to know that I spend Sunday night and all day Monday in Rensselvegas with Scott Deatherage. HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU STAND IT THERE? I find it not quite as bussling as, say, St. John.

= )

Anonymous said...

whatever . . .just take ChrisWoznitza.

The only down side is it sounds like you and Phil might have to break your promise not to let a man get in the way of your friendship.

deuber said...

I just read an awesome story you told about masturbation, and you have a rad sense of humor.

What you need is a comical partner... and I think Frema would be fabulous for the job... you tell a joke, and she gives the double-hit on the snare and then smacks the cymbal... then, she puts on her big smile and shrugs her shoulders, as if to say "that Becky! what a riot!".

(note: this also requires a snare drum, a crash cymbal and two drum sticks, which I can loan you for said reunion)