Jig and Jog

Clare tweeted the other day asking how people felt when they received their 10 year high school reunion invitations.  I responded with: “Old, unsuccessful, old, like a failure, too sober, old, relieved that I had made it 10 years out of high school.”

The truth is, high school certainly wasn’t the best time of my life, in fact, a lot of the time it was kind of miserable, for a lot of different reasons. The short story is, for the better part of my life I have struggled with depression (which is a whole other post for another day,) but because of this, it made my high school years especially difficult.  Add to that the fact that I commuted to high school 40 miles each way (which in Los Angeles equals about an hour in the car twice a day without traffic,) and I think you can guess that a good part of my alleged glory days were spent kind of lonely.

However, that is not to say I didn’t also have great times in high school.  I had a group of friends, some of whom I’m still in pretty close touch with today, I had some excellent teachers, I went to a school that really did try to give its students a safe, caring environment in which to learn and grow, and I participated in several musicals.  So, I wasn’t a total sad person, but there were definitely struggles that I know a lot of my peers didn’t have, and sometimes, that makes me jealous.

Also, when it came time to graduate, I was at a total loss. I had no real idea what I wanted to do, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to be away from my parents (in hindsight I realize I ended up making the right decision for myself,) so I chose not to go to a traditional university.  In some ways, this has served me well, it meant that I followed my own path, and got to compete in Irish dancing a lot longer than other girls I know.  It also meant that I am somewhat socially and educationally behind my peers, which can be difficult.  On a social level, constantly being asked “so what’s your major, when are you going to finish,” and my personal favorite, “So, you didn’t go to a ‘real’ school?” became taxing. I’ve changed majors several times, I’ve gone to art school for a nanosecond, I’ve gone to and dropped out of beauty school, I’ve gone to and completed Make-up school,  and now, at 28 I’m working on completing my BS in Social Work.  On a strictly rational and logical level I know all these decisions were ultimately the best for me at the time, but receiving a piece of card stock in the mail informing me I have no been out of school for 10 years and could I please share what I am doing with myself, and join my classmates to celebrate? was panic inducing.

Ultimately, I decided to go because I was curious. Curious to see who would show up and to see how we’ve all turned out, and because I’m a total sucker for nostalgia.  Plus, the family of two girls in my class own The Cat and Fiddle in Los Angeles and we were promised happy hour prices at an after party post-reunion.  I am totally pliable with cheap beer.

I’m glad I went, I had a nice time at the reunion itself (fund raising, planned giving spiel and all,) then had a nice time catching up at The Cat and Fiddle, and then a nice time at dinner. Everyone seems to have done well for themselves, and everyone seemed pleased to see each other. I went to a small school, we had a little over 100 girls in my graduating class, and everyone remembered each other.  Something like that, the knowing you are remembered means something to people, and it leaves you with a bit of a warm fuzzy feeling.  I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but it gives you a sense of belonging to something bigger than yourself, it gives you the knowledge that you’ve touched someone else’s life.  It was just overall enough time and distance from high school to give us perspective enough to enjoy each other.