Party Like It's 1998!

Which basically means we’ll listen
to “Closing Time” and “Truly Madly Deeply” and “Good Riddance: Time of
Your Life” over and over and over again.  It was a terrible time for music.

Snap!  I have my ten-year high school reunion this weekend.  UHS!  UHS!  UHS!

Me in high school: opinionated soccer jock with brains.  Who also
played violin.  Also, 30 pounds lighter.  I was a rail when I still
worked out like two hours a day and before I got on the Pill.  Also
coming to the reunion: muffin tops!

Chris isn’t going.  I don’t blame him.  He wouldn’t have fun, mainly
because the only people he knows from my high school will not be
there.  We’ll be seeing those folks in a few weeks for my friend
Pogge’s swanky wedding in Chicago.  Chris didn’t want to spend his
whole weekend going to Des Moines only to be in awkward situations. 
I’ll have more fun if he’s not there, too, mainly because I’d be
hyper-conscious of his level of discomfort until I got drunk, when I
would not pay as much attention to his situation as he truly deserves. 
So, we decided to keep it real and he gets another weekend without me. 
The drive solo will suck, but I am going to rock out and listen to a
million podcasts.  And get new sunglasses at this gas station called
Wilco (yeah, not after the band, not really sure about the moniker)
north of Hannibal, which is where I always buy sunglasses.

I was apprehensive this week.  Actually, it started last week when I
went to the doctor for the poison ivy and got weighed and almost
fainted dead away.  Then I considered working out like crazy for a week
or two.  Then I laughed and made cupcakes.

Potential conversation:

“So, what are you doing?” –well-intentioned person I don’t really want to be talking to

“Um, well I was a teacher for four years.  Then I quit.  Now I’m a blogger.”  –me

Pause for judgement.

“And a full-time doctoral student.”

So I’ve got that going for me.  Which is nice.

I reconnected with my old BF from high school.  Like, from when I
was 15.  Thanks, Facebook!  She lives in Minneapolis, so we’ve been
talking about hanging out when I go up there, but I never have any free
time.  We’ve already made plans to roll up together.  These things go
better in twos.  We will not be wearing our boyfriends’ football
jerseys or drinking Boone’s Farm.  But we may end up drunk on the bike
trails of Urbandale, Iowa.  Those things don’t change.  We’ll probably
run into some current J-Hawks.  Maybe we’ll go up to the high school
and see our Wall Of Fame pics.  She was Traditional Jock–softball, basketball.  I was Neo-Title IX Jock: track & soccer.

Okay, we won’t do that.  It’s lame.

Seriously, I have not seen most of these people in ten years.  There
are a few people I ran into at a bar a few years ago.  There are a few
people I stayed in touch with or ran into during the first few years of
college.  I am hoping none of them are harboring secret ten-years-ago
resentment for some asshole thing I may have done or said.  Not that I
think people have been thinking about me for that long.  I highly doubt
they have.  But that is my worst fear.  That someone will be like,
“Yeah, you were uber bitch that one time in Study Hall” and I look at
them blankly because I don’t remember then I’m the Larry-David-esque
asshole.  I am hoping that everyone is just down for a good time.

If they’re not, at least we’re at a bar.

Cross-posted from my blog South City Confidential.