Monday, February 15, 2010

We'll make it up to you in the year 2000 OR Year of the late-bloomer

Just the other day I got a jarring revelation from an old friend that had me huddled in a corner in the throes of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Remembering high school always does that to me.

What happened was my old friend asked me, “Are you going to go to the 10 year reunion?”

I laughed and laughed and laughed some more until I was crying. “10 year reunion!” I giggled. “That’s funny! We haven’t been out of high school for…”


I counted them out on my fingers just in case I was wrong. I wasn’t. This May marks the 10 year anniversary of my advent into the cold cruel world, the end of one set of problems and the beginning of a whole new bigger, better set of problems.

First, let me say that those ten years have gone faster than beer in a frathouse. Second, I want to ask, “How did I get so old?” Granted, 27 is not very old but the thought of being graduated that long is just so brain-meltingly strange to me. Time seems to pass faster and faster the older I get, like it's picking up speed.

I can only think of two real reasons to go to a high school reunion: First, you peaked in high school, haven’t done anything of consequence since and want to relive the glory days; or second, you were not that cool in high school but have really made something of yourself and want to rub your late-blooming awesomeness in the faces of all the people who made fun of you back in high school.

I am neither, and the thought of returning to high school, even if only for one night, makes me shudder. I definitely didn’t peak in high school. High school was more of a “trough” time in my life, if you were to go to the trouble of graphing it out. I am doing alright for myself now but haven’t become so awesome in the past 10 years that I need to flaunt anything. I’ve also grown enough as a person to not care what any of the useless people I knew back in high school think of me and wouldn’t care to flaunt, even if I had something to flaunt.

Mostly I just want to put those dark days of bad clothes, bad hair and bad skin behind me. A college degree and Proactiv have given me a new outlook on life and I am not looking back. Ever.

An internet study showed that people surveyed about their high school reunions defined the true sign of success as riches, looks or an attractive mate. Yuck. That sounds just like high school. Incidentally, I have settled in my hometown of Rio Rancho and when I go to the gym I run into a surprising number of my fellow Class of 2000 classmates at the gym, although we never acknowledge each other.

There is a small handful of people from high school that I still keep in touch with. Besides them, I don’t really care to keep in touch with anyone else. The tricky part is that the invention of Facebook has made it super easy for high school people to track you down, which yields some very mixed results. Sometimes it's “Hey, it’s good to hear from you” and other times it's “You must be thinking of a different person. Please don’t contact me ever again.”

And in a bizarre and shocking turn of events, someone has taken the liberty of posting everyone's senior yearbook pictures to Facebook, mine included, with all of its aforementioned bad hair and bad skin. Thanks for nothing.

PS - Miss Chief is also having similar reunion woes. I'm glad I'm not the only one.
PPS - This cartoon cracks me up. And this one.


  1. HA! My 10 year reunion is next year. I wouldn't even dream of going. I get knots in my stomach just thinking about high school. Ugh.

    I think bad clothes, hair, and skin was a part of everyone's experience. Tragedy.

  2. I got an invite (via facebook no less) for my own high school reunion. I replied "Not attending" First off, I am STILL in college and have been out of high school for, get ready for it, THREE years? I suppose its because the graduating class ten years ago consisted of 3 people and so they thought to drag everyone else back.
    Second, it takes place on my 21st birthday. Yeah, like I would choose that over a bottle of vodka. Ha!

  3. Mine is also this year and thus I've avoided it all like the left over lucky charms cereal bits when you've picked out all the marshmallows.

    I have yet to come to terms with the idea whether or not I will attend - I am truly hoping I have something better to do and don't have to think about it.

    Oh and my HS photos have yet to show up and I'm hoping they don't. Cheers - perhaps we could just switch schools? Be that person no one remembered.

  4. Oh come on, you were handsome!!

    Thanks for feeling the same way I do about this I don't feel like such a jerk!

  5. I'm actually looking forward to mine. Admittedly, there's another 4 years till then, but i think it'll be interesting to catch up with everyone. There'll be the ones who've gone downhill since HS, the ones who've done amazing things, and the ones that you just have to shake your head and pity in general about... and of course, there's always your friends.

    Then again, I'm also a facebook whore who's tracked down nearly everyone i knew in HS, and a few that I almost knew. I've also got TONS of HS photos of everyone on FB. Yeah, I'm THAT girl. lol.

    I still see a large majority of my graduating class on a regular basis anyway. You can't turn around in this town without running into someone you know. Every weekend is a HS reunion in downtown. At least the schools around here are smart enough to hold them at a bar or club so it's slightly entertaining.

  6. Bwah ha ha! Who posted the senior pictures? And how would you get a hold of them short of scanning in your entire yearbook?

  7. It says the name of the person who posted it, but I'm not sure if they posted it or just tagged me in it. And, yes, somebody would've had to scan them all in I would guess. So they must've held a grudge against me all these 10 years...

  8. Uhg...I agree. 10 years, really? HS was not that much fun..I have no desire to go back and hangout with the people who have been waiting since graduation for a chance to relive their glory days.


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