Not reunited, and it feels okay
One more thing St. Louis had going for it, at least the weekend I visited: Our high school reunion was not taking place there.
A couple of people have passed along random bits of gossip, of course:
I'm also beginning to wonder if my almost-visceral reaction of complete disgust whenever I find out someone my age is pregnant is a character flaw on my part. It's one thing when the pregnant person is or is married to someone appallingly stupid or immature or incompetent. But, honestly, I seem to react the same way even when it's people I like. When our Texan friend Ms. Stryver announces her inevitable pregnancy, I think it will still baffle and nauseate me. Forget my biological clock; I'm just waiting for the point when I understand someone else wanting to have a baby.
The other reunion-related thing that I've been obsessing about is the fact that at least one person mentioned that people were asking about me. Which means that the person being asked probably gave them at least an abbreviated account of what I'm doing right now. Which is one of the main reasons why I didn't attend in the first place. So much for my plan for complete anonymity, leaving open the possibility that I would attend some distant future reunion fully established and successful. Forget this in-process, how-are-we-all-coming-along crap -- I'm more interested in materializing fully formed from the ether, like Athena from Zeus's head (how's that for a literary reference for you?).
I accept that those years occurred. But, other than the people who have moved with me to the next ones, I would prefer that everyone I encountered then would never cross my path (in real life or virtually) again. Especially not in my current, half-finished state. Sad to admit, but this is really driving me crazy.
Chicago Tribune columnist/blogger Eric Zorn attended his 30th reunion that same weekend, and among his observations was a list of Characteristics of Decennial Reunions. I think they're probably pretty accurate, especially this one:
Those who don’t show up are probably: Embarrassed that they haven’t settled on their life’s work or that their life’s work seems so modest.
Damn.
A couple of people have passed along random bits of gossip, of course:
Partial transcript of my conversation with Dana, who talked to Emily, who actually attended the reunionBased on what I've heard, I'm more glad than ever that I chose not to attend. And yet I'm completely preoccupied with the details I gleaned. Particularly the ones about various people and their ill-advised (in my opinion) forays into parenthood. Why are all the freaks (especially the ones I dated or wanted to date) reproducing?
Her: Karly is having Richard's baby!
Me: EEEWWWWW!
Me: I hope it doesn't have a harelip.
Her: That is SO inappropriate!
I'm also beginning to wonder if my almost-visceral reaction of complete disgust whenever I find out someone my age is pregnant is a character flaw on my part. It's one thing when the pregnant person is or is married to someone appallingly stupid or immature or incompetent. But, honestly, I seem to react the same way even when it's people I like. When our Texan friend Ms. Stryver announces her inevitable pregnancy, I think it will still baffle and nauseate me. Forget my biological clock; I'm just waiting for the point when I understand someone else wanting to have a baby.
The other reunion-related thing that I've been obsessing about is the fact that at least one person mentioned that people were asking about me. Which means that the person being asked probably gave them at least an abbreviated account of what I'm doing right now. Which is one of the main reasons why I didn't attend in the first place. So much for my plan for complete anonymity, leaving open the possibility that I would attend some distant future reunion fully established and successful. Forget this in-process, how-are-we-all-coming-along crap -- I'm more interested in materializing fully formed from the ether, like Athena from Zeus's head (how's that for a literary reference for you?).
I accept that those years occurred. But, other than the people who have moved with me to the next ones, I would prefer that everyone I encountered then would never cross my path (in real life or virtually) again. Especially not in my current, half-finished state. Sad to admit, but this is really driving me crazy.
Chicago Tribune columnist/blogger Eric Zorn attended his 30th reunion that same weekend, and among his observations was a list of Characteristics of Decennial Reunions. I think they're probably pretty accurate, especially this one:
Those who don’t show up are probably: Embarrassed that they haven’t settled on their life’s work or that their life’s work seems so modest.
Damn.
posted by Madame Defarge at 11:57 AM
3 Comments:
After looking at the pictures Ms. Stryver sent, I feel much better. Everyone is already fat. Or slutty. Or fat and slutty!
I can't believe how few people I knew in high school. I hardly recognized anyone.
It was good seeing the photos, though. It allowed me to be there without being there. It also allowed me to reaffirm the fact that had I gone, I probably wouldn't have enjoyed myself. I would have been with the two other people sitting in the very corner of the room, talking to no one and muttering nasty comments about the drunk people dancing. Amen to the slutty comment. I don't know who those two blonde chicks were, but they should have stopped dressing like that years ago. And since when did we have a black kid in our class?
I think it also makes me realize how inconsequential high school is. That's something i want to tell my kids now: who gives a shit what people you go to school with think; in ten years, it will mean nothing. The bully or the popular kid you can't stand now will turn out to be a loser in the end. And now we have photos to prove it!
It was cool to see Quan there, though. Probably the only person I'd be interested in talking to.
Ugh. My self-esteem isn't quite up to snuff on this one, but seeing the pictures did remind me exactly who, as individuals, our classmates were, and it's much easier to not give a damn what those idiots think. It was the nebulous idea of our class as a whole that was making me feel inadequate more than anything, I think.
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