This Chick's Perspective…

It struck me the other day that I have been out of high school for 20 years.  After feeding Hec this irrelevant globule of information, he commented, “Good.  Maybe now you can get over it.” 

I stopped myself from rebutting that I am over it; remembering that I had been recently intimated into buying Dunkin Donuts coffee from three teenage wresters who arrived on my doorstep.  Considering my general attitude towards the sport of wrestling (On Wrestlers), it’s ironic that I could be so ruffled, but the fact that they were so obviously Cooler Than I Am (which admittedly isn’t that difficult to be) pushed me over the edge.  (And the adult in me feared that, if denied, they would egg my house.) 

What is it about high school – other than the fact that it’s the time in our lives when we are bulleting, hormones raging, into adulthood – that makes such an indelible impression?  And I know I’m not the only person to suffer from Horrible High School Memory Malady because I’ve taken a survey… And even if that survey included only one person who may or may not be as nuts as I am (in her own unique way), it’s proof enough for me. 

I’ve heard tales of people who enjoyed high school, but I think those people were either constantly high or have repressed the terrors of showering in gym class and not being selected as anyone’s lab partner. 

I guess I could wax nostalgic about my first love (for despite my geekiness, I did have one… his nickname was Satan and he prided himself on not having a conscience), but I’m fairly sure that the inevitable ensuing heartbreak quashed the few blissful occasions of rapid heartbeats.  (Although on a positive note, I’ll admit that it would have been far worse had I done something as stupid as marry my high school succubus…)

I think the main reason teenagers kill themselves is because they’re told that these are the best years of their lives.  And I know that saying that may be tasteless, but I’m not kidding. 

So, maybe I’ll have a one-person 20th high school reunion, spend three-hours drunk pretending that “Remember Whens” are really something I want to remember… and then just get over it.  I’ll even wear a nametag, in case I forget who I am…

This entry was posted on Monday, January 25th, 2010 at 12:48 pm and is filed under Bellamy's Blather.... You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.