Insecurity Blanket
I'm three days away from my high school reunion. Should I go? Should I stay? It's the same dilemma I faced 10 years ago when prom rolled around. I had no date so I didn't go. I don't regret it, but the fact that I didn't go was like a microcosm of my entire high school experience. I just don't want to get laughed at. Am I living in the past? Not at all. That being said, I do need to make sure before I drive up there, to wash off the remaining shoe polish off my back window and take off the Seniors'95 tassel hanging from my rearview.
Grosse Pointe Blank's one of my favorite films. I'd like to think I'm a little Cusackian with how I view this whole thing. I can actually only hope that my reunion is just as eventful. Not by people recognizing me, but I'm hoping to go to my old locker and kill a guy in the hallway.
Back to my inner turmoil: You can't enjoy your future without recognizing your past. I recognize my past. Doesn't mean I think it's attractive or charming. Funny in a depraved way. But if my past were a woman? I'd never date it. It knows too much about me. It has pictures.
The main worry is that going back there will bring back feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that I haven't experienced since ... Thursday
And I've always been told that what doesn't kill you will make you stronger. It builds character. I've got so much character built, I could write my own Star Wars Trilogy. I've got Jabbas and Chewbaccas full of character. This whole experience will be an exercise in futility. And the last time I checked my futilitic muscles were doing just fine. I didn't need to tone up my futes. In fact I get the most compliments on what a nice futeous maximus I have.
I got it from my mama
I thought about bringing my yearbook to the reunion. You know, to get all the signatures I didn't have the nerve to ask for. I got confidence now. I can walk up to the hot girl from my 1994 English Lit Class and ask her to sign my annual. I can do that. I've grown. Remember me? I got confidence and character now .... and more importantly, a blog.
Whenever I get into a relationship, I like to give the girl a cute nickname ... like NBC or HBO. That way whenever she calls me and I have to take the call ..
A) I don't look whipped
B) I look like I'm an important somebody
"Hey NBC! Pardon me guys, it's NBC, I have to take this call"
"Wow, Paul's always talking to NBC. They want him so bad they call him at 2 in the morning. It must be important"
Grosse Pointe Blank's one of my favorite films. I'd like to think I'm a little Cusackian with how I view this whole thing. I can actually only hope that my reunion is just as eventful. Not by people recognizing me, but I'm hoping to go to my old locker and kill a guy in the hallway.
Back to my inner turmoil: You can't enjoy your future without recognizing your past. I recognize my past. Doesn't mean I think it's attractive or charming. Funny in a depraved way. But if my past were a woman? I'd never date it. It knows too much about me. It has pictures.
The main worry is that going back there will bring back feelings of inadequacy and insecurity that I haven't experienced since ... Thursday
And I've always been told that what doesn't kill you will make you stronger. It builds character. I've got so much character built, I could write my own Star Wars Trilogy. I've got Jabbas and Chewbaccas full of character. This whole experience will be an exercise in futility. And the last time I checked my futilitic muscles were doing just fine. I didn't need to tone up my futes. In fact I get the most compliments on what a nice futeous maximus I have.
I got it from my mama
I thought about bringing my yearbook to the reunion. You know, to get all the signatures I didn't have the nerve to ask for. I got confidence now. I can walk up to the hot girl from my 1994 English Lit Class and ask her to sign my annual. I can do that. I've grown. Remember me? I got confidence and character now .... and more importantly, a blog.
Whenever I get into a relationship, I like to give the girl a cute nickname ... like NBC or HBO. That way whenever she calls me and I have to take the call ..
A) I don't look whipped
B) I look like I'm an important somebody
"Hey NBC! Pardon me guys, it's NBC, I have to take this call"
"Wow, Paul's always talking to NBC. They want him so bad they call him at 2 in the morning. It must be important"
posted by Paul at 4:11 PM
3 Comments:
Hey, someone recommended your blog to me. Its great, really funny. Its funny you mention HS reunions, my cousin had hers a couple years ago, Class of 1993, I was more excited for her cause that was the year the kids from Saved By the Bell graduated too. Yes, I'm lame enough to know that. -Joyson
"Rediculous"? Like 10 years ago, when I was being ignored by damn near everyone it was just "diculous". But now a decade later when it happens again, it's "rediculous". I'd think you were a genius if you purposely meant that typo, but I know you're just a moron, and I found the funny.
FYI people: I know this guy, so I can make fun of him.
Don't be hacking my blog about diculous re-diculous. That funny faux pas is mine.
I hated school so much I didn't go to my graduation. You think I went to my reunion? Of course not. I couldn't wait to get out of school and be in the real world. Using the lives of your peers as a baromter of where you are in your life is futile. You can't quantify happiness or contentment or passion. If there's some people you truly want to see and catch up with, then go. If you're going because you feel obligated to give in the archaic tradition of a reunion, then don't go. The friends you have now as an adult, whether from high school or not, are the true and real bonds in your life.
If you're just curious who got fat, put on a uniform and blend in with the servers.
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