blast to the past
So I went to my ten-year high school reunion last week.
The short form is that there isn’t too much interesting to say; there weren’t any CIA spooks or hired assassins after me, and the whole event was hosted at a club rather than at the school, so Grosse Pointe Blank hijinks were not terribly likely. There were some people there I was glad to see, a bunch more I would have liked to see but didn’t come, and (thanks to the size of my graduating class) a giant crowd of people I wouldn’t have recognized ten years ago, either.
But it does encourage a bit of reflection. I don’t think I’ve changed very much in ten years, you see. Not so much because I’m still invested in who I was in high school — at least I don’t think that’s the case — but rather, I figured out quite a long time ago who I wanted to be after high school. What’s happened since then is, I’ve gotten better at being that person. I liked fantasy novels: my taste in them has improved. I liked certain kinds of art: I have the money to buy nicer examples of it now. I wanted to be a writer: I have three books in print. Music (in the performance sense) has sadly left my life, as has dance, but there’s no sense that I’ve “outgrown” them; the love is still there. I’ve gotten back into fencing. My hair is still long. <g> I’m just better at being me.
I can live with that.
Anybody have exciting high-school reunion stories? Did any of you rush off to reinvent yourselves after you escaped the madhouse?