I have never been the cool kid.
Actually, I take that back. There was that time when I was the coolest kid in my mother's womb, but it's gone downhill since then.
It should be noted that I was not a twin.
I went to my 10 year high school reunion this past weekend. It was against my better judgement, but my better judgement has always had it in for me, so I listened to my wife instead. I was surprised how many of them remembered me, considering how hard I tried not to be memorable. In classes, I was always the one not in the back, more off to the side, not paying attention. I spent my time drawing and so social interaction was pretty low on my list of priorities. This was mostly because what I had in common with the more popular kids was precious little beyond the number of homologous pairs in our chromosomes. Well, that and most of the more popular members of my class, oddly enough, also happened to be in the same "gifted" classes that I managed to get into.
Don't be fooled. It was all a sham.
Anyway, the flip side of that surprise was how few of them knew O'Neal, Zaene from the now-dead forum. This has a lot to do with the fact that his once-full-head-of-hair went through extensive deforestation while he spent time in Northern Japan.
It was odd who was there and who wasn't. Within the week leading to the reunion, I ran into a handful of people who were far more "in" than I'd ever toyed at being, none of whom were in attendance. Contrast that with my appearance, in spite of my lack of desire to spend time with these people I'd been just as happy to forget, and you end up with an odd population at the gathering. While there, I spent the majority of the time in the company of two fellows (and my wife, who was forced to attend because I wasn't going alone...especially since it was her idea) that I didn't hang out with much during high school. One goes to the U of O, where I work, now. He's a decent fellow and we probably would've been better friends back in high school if I'd been more social. Or not. Who knows? The other had been a closer friend during grade school, but as these things go, we grew apart.
By the by, he's now a doctor and he says his workplace resembles in no fashion the environment put forth in such hospital dramas as
ER and
House. He did list some disturbing similarities between actual doctory (probably not a word) and
Scrubs, however.
Also there was a friend of mine who I see infrequently around town on odd Sundays. Oddly, he spent most of his time with the jock crowd (the cliques were alive and well after these many years), which he was not a part of, so we actually spoke less than I'd intended. After I overcame a bit of trepidation (he is but one of several friends who, while on the list, never received an invitation to my wedding...something I regret and have since danced around because I don't know how to broach the subject) we spoke for a bit. It made me wonder how, exactly, we stay close to the people we stay close to and, in a sense, lose the people we lose. In my case, it would seem that, besides proximity, my continued relationship with O'Neal versus my distant-at-best relationship with Graves is due, largely, to the fact that O'Neal would wake me up at 5am when he had downtime in Japan and Graves was never in the military. Not that I was, but the isolation from "home" made O'Neal a bit nostalgic, I imagine.
It's worthy of note that I am an awful friend. I never learned to keep in touch with people. Only the most stubborn people will stay close to me, almost solely due to their own efforts.
On the whole, the experience was educational. One the one hand, few people had experienced a full-scale degradation, though some had noticeably less hair or some such. On the other hand, superficial changes, as with hair and weight, were also the extent of the maturation of many since those days long gone. Too many seemed to have peaked at 17. I almost preferred the regard I held some in beforehand to the way I view them now. Before, I had some lingering vestiges of angst due to some long-forgotten slight. Now, all I feel, in all too many cases, is pity.
This from a guy who makes (made...whatever) comics with pee jokes in them.
Labels: Oldening, Rants
