Waxing Nostalgic

Tonight is my High School 30 year reunion and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. The 80’s was a great decade in all its weirdness. Neon clothes, pegged jeans, Hair Metal and Depeche Mode and big, big hair. The Breakfast Club really wasn’t too far off the mark in depicting high school life of the 80s.

I moved to town in the middle of 9th grade. The city I came from had 4 large high schools. I certainly didn’t know everyone in my class nor did everyone know me. This served me well. I was a somewhat awkward and painfully shy, except around my group of friends. I existed in the background, the observer, and was mostly left alone. My new school was not going to be the same. It was far smaller than I was used to, my new class being around 200 students.

Very few of my new classmates were welcoming. In fact I it wasn’t long before I became a target for bullying. There is one particular incident that I struggle to forget. It was everyone’s favorite class Phy Ed. (Can you hear my eye roll?) We were headed back to the locker room to change from our gym clothes after class when three “popular” girls ran ahead of me. They were laughing, tauntingly at me. They entered the locker room, slammed the door and locked it. I don’t quite remember how I got into the locker room, only that it took everything in my power not to cry in front of those assholes. This kind of bullying lessened as time went on. Nonetheless the damage was done.

Not everything was that terrible. I did make some good life-long friends and we made great memories of our own. I found success in my art. I even sometimes found my voice. I remember the time my best friend and I stayed after school to work. The guy who was my HUGE crush and one of his friends were also there painting. There was some discussion about music and how girls only like “crappy” music like Bon Jovi and don’t like good music, like Metallica or Led Zepplin. “They say they like them, but they don’t have any of their tapes.” Mostly this was coming from my crush’s friend and I remember being so offended that I piped up and let him have it and ended my point with the fact I did indeed have all of Led Zepplin’s tapes and I also had some of Metallica’s as I walked out the door. (And yes, I also had all of Bon Jovi, but I didn’t tell them that).

After graduation my family moved across the state and I went with them. Life after high school was a great improvement and I really haven’t looked back. I have kept in contact with those I wanted to. I am not friends on Facebook with everyone from my class. There are about 3 people from my class that I would welcome seeing in person. I might have 4 more people that I graduated with that were nice to me in some respect that I don’t mind keeping up with, but the rest, I really have little interest in letting them know what I’ve been up too.

However, I am a curious person. Ok, I’m downright snoopy. I did join the class reunion page on Facebook and the pictures of the reunion are being posted at a steady pace. I recognize some of the people but many I don’t. There has been talk about everyone did during their Senior Skip day. I couldn’t help but laugh as mine involved two of my friends, a broken down car, hitching a ride with a trucker and spending the day at a truck weigh station singing Guns n’ Roses. Definably not an ideal time but it was unique and we did have what fun we could. Plus, its always a bonus to hitch a ride with a trucker who wasn’t an axe murderer.

I have no regrets in not going to my reunion and I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I do miss the simplicity of being that age where the biggest worry was being in the same classes as your friends. The people in the shared pictures tonight look happy and I do hope that they are having a good time. It’s just not the reunion for me. Maybe if there were such a thing as a college reunion. That I might be up for. Bring on the 90s nostalgia with its Grunge music and Friends reruns.

Don’t Blink

I was going to write about Balance and my personal mantra, “in all things, balance”, but it seemed to be too much of a heady topic to tackle at 10:30 at night. So instead I’m going to write about something that had been on my mind of late, that’s a little less serious. Growing old(er).

Aging isn’t something I really ever thought too much about. It never really bothered me when my friends back in college, who were just a year or two younger than I, nicknamed me “Grandma” and gave me all sorts of crap about being older than dirt. I played along and pretended to be annoyed, but in all honesty it was funny. I wasn’t really phased when I turned 30, in fact, I thought it hysterical. Forty didn’t even bother me, though I think that was more due to the fact that I had 18/19 (ack, math) month year old running around and I was too tired to care.

Now I’m sitting here at 48, my 30 year high school reunion is next month and the big 5-0 is less than 2 years away. I’ve got more white hairs on my head than ever and a crazy urge to cover them all up. I’ve never dyed my hair for that purpose before, only when I wanted a different look, you know? Maybe I should have started using those anti-aging creams a decade ago? It bugs me that I’m even thinking this stuff.

Overall, I feel good, besides the weight issue, but I am getting that under control. Sure I might hear some pops and crackles when I stand up, but my knees don’t hurt; my back seems fine. I’m left wondering why is turning 50 bothering me? I mean, I don’t feel like I’m going to be 50. It feels like some cosmic joke.

Me. 50. How did this happen so fast?