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Monday, August 15, 2011

Three dog night...






I must say, tonight went from reading funny things, to wallowing in self pity. Interesting how life works out that way. You're happy, your laughing, and then you see som'thing that you think may be even funnier, and it makes you crap yourself.

Then you sit there, in your poo pants.


I guess wallowing in self pity is too strong a phrase. That phrase gives me images of tears, and more tears, and perhaps a noose made of shoelaces. Generally from your last pair of converse you've worn the soles off of.

Anyone who's been out of high school for any amount of time has likely found a page on the Internet to get back in touch with these people. To rekindle. To remember.

I've visited such pages several times over the years and I've learned several things.

1. I don't recognize most of these people

2. The ones I do recognize are from the "in" group, and while they don't scare me now, I don't have any fond memories with them to laugh about

3. No one I'm looking for is here. Probably because they are busy taking care of children like the friends I did stay in touch with. *sigh*

4. None of the nerds are there. People who I wish I had talked to, but never did, for whatever reason. This also covers nerds I knew, but didn't know well enough to remember their last names etc.

and the one thing I'd like to really talk about. # 5

5. These people have DAMN good memories. They are talking about, for example "remember when Person X had to rollerblade to school???" and then like 30 people are like "OMG YES that was AWESOME". Wtf is that about? I can't even remember what I got for my birthday for 25 out of 29 years of my life...and these people remember som' chick having to skate to school?

I walked to school, for about 85% of it. I got a new car, and no one outside my 4ish friends noticed. A new car. A car I parked in front of the school where 99% of the kids had to walk past it to go home.

AND it was in a forbidden spot. But no one ever made me move it. You know why? Because I was invisible and no one, including the staff knew who it belonged to. That's a special kind of invisibility, just FYI.

Then they droned on and on about "remember in Mr.I-remember-you-perfectly's class"... and I'm not just talking about "I remember I had that teach for math" or whatever....but detailed stories, as if they happened yesterday.

I'm lucky if I can remember my teachers names. Generally I can't unless they are said or shown to me first. Pretty much out of 4 years, and approx 30 teachers I remember only these;

1. Mr. Proach, who I only remember because he would talk on and on about traveling the world, in monotone, and he'd get this white crap in the corners of his mouth. He'd talk about all sorts of cool, worldly, cultural stuff. Do I remember ANY of it? Heck No. I do remember in detail the white crap in the corner of his mouth, and I probably only remember it because my friends made fun of it constantly

2. Mr. Olddude. I don't remember his name. I remember him in images only because I really, really disliked this guy. REALLY. He had this yardstick, and he'd smack it on your desk at the end of all his ranting points. He was anti women's rights, pro "every school should have the 10 commandments posted in the hallways" and was probably a homophobic, child molester in his free time. He brought god up in all of his rants. Our lack of god was why we sucked as students. Hes probably dead now, and that's probably for the best.

3. Mr. Nowel. I had this guy for "crafts" which was actually wood shop on steroids. We did plastics, metal, leather, etc...I had him for 75% of my time in high school, so he gets remembered out of sheer repetition I imagine. He had the best looking santa beard I've ever seen. It was silky looking, not all pubetastic like most beards. The year I had the class with the stoners that played with the blowtorch unsupervised was interesting. He also liked me enough that by senior year he was giving me a free ride grade wise, which was good because I spent most of it doodling and drooling over a classmate. But I digress

4. Mr. Newlon (I think that was his name, SEE??) was probably, in hindsight, about 24 years old, tall and thin, and had a thing for cardigan sweaters. My friend at the time, Erica, decided she was in love with him, so I, being completely unoriginal decided I should fake crush on him as well to fit it. I personally find the whole "crush on a different age group" thing a bit creepy, so I was really desperate to fit in, I suppose.

5. Ms Demmit. Ok now this one freaks me out. She was a 40ish math teacher, and I had her for at least 2 years, so like my crafts teacher, she probably gets remembered by sheer repetition. She didn't like me, I don't think she liked anyone, but she did try and hide it. She did like Math, and she really did try to get us to like math. Unfortunately it was by shoving it at us in the most boring way possible, and then nagging when we doodled. Mostly, I would stare at her and wonder why she looked so "off". I mean, she looked sick. Pale, very thin, and I could see all the veins in her face. She died shortly after I graduated.


sorry, no joke in that one.


6.....




yeah, there is no 6. You know why? I have the worst memory known to man. It stinks. I never thought I'd be sitting here, ten years later, WANTING to remember all the crap stuff I did in high school. It feels like a dream that I kinda remember, but need a trigger to remember at all.

Its really disappointing is all. I feel kind of cheated. Sure it was a bad experience, but it was MY bad experience, and damn it, I want to know what happened!













ten points to anyone who figures out the titles meaning. Ten BROWNIE points. Ok go






1 comment:

  1. 3. He was super chill and fun. I loved his beard too!

    5. She didn't die soon enough....only in that she had the opportunity to fail me and grace one of my yearbooks with a full color full page image of her face to haunt me.

    Maybe we're doing something wrong that we don't remember things better or more of it. I think we need to do more pranks and pantsings, that HASTA help!

    ReplyDelete