The Dorkitude Of Nostalgia
September again. Goddammit. My birthday month stopped being a good thing once I reached the legal drinking age many dozens of moons ago.
Get this: I’ve been in a story-drought at work lately. A couple weeks back not only did I have but one story to turn in; it was, quite possibly, the lamest piece of writing I’ve ever put my name to. (I was tempted to ask my editor to give the byline credit to Alan Smithee,
But things are looking up! The drought is not yet over but I see rain clouds on the horizon; soon the various branches of local government will reconvene from their summer recesses and resume their life’s purpose of doing stupid stuff upon which people like me can wax snarkastic.
Last night (or rather this morning), after the Man Of The House went to bed, I locked myself in my office to work on a piece about the latest bit of buttholery from the fine folks at the TSA. While distractedly researching a couple of things online, I actually clicked on one of those annoying banner ads you see for “Classmates.com.”
Odd. I was absolutely miserable in high school, and viewed childhood as an annoying phase to be finished as quickly as possible so that real life could start. But I was curious to see how friends and others turned out, so I applied for one of those free memberships and filled out the multiple-choice questionnaire.
When it asks for your political viewpoints, there is no “libertarian” option. You’re either a liberal or a conservative, in the Classmates universe. (Artificial restrictions of options. Hey, it is just like high school!)
Once I registered, I went through the lists of names, occasionally clicking on one to read the profile of some person I haven’t thought about since graduation. Here’s something I found a little sad: with rare exceptions, those people who seemed the most unique and rebellious in school are now the most likely to have settled into the standard mortgage/office job/2.4 children adult-life template.
On the other hand, they’d probably feel horrible pity for me, if they knew I’m a childless woman who’d just made a midlife career change to a low-paying entry-level writing job where my most notable achievement to date has been getting fired from a phone-sex line.
P.S. For my birthday present I’m buying a digital camera tonight, and as soon as my next Good Hair Day happens I’ll take a new photo for my profile. In twenty years I can look at it and think "God, I was so young."