Mean Gene

And I'm Never Goin' Back...To My Old...School...

A little Steely Dan to kick things off. So far I've had a nice little day--got my first good night's sleep in three weeks, trimmed the hedges, launched another strike against the yellow jacket nest and made the rubble bounce, spend some time in the hammock, and in a bit I'm going to grill some chicken that's been soaking in a tasty Asian marinade for a day and a night. Afterwards I'll go to J.D.'s to watch volleyball and drink beer. Even took second in a SNG today, though I was unlucky not to win. When you have the nuts two hands in a row, you can't force the other guy to have a hand. Alas.

Got some bad news from a friend of mine a bit ago, which put me in a somber mood. And then I got an email with my high school's name in the address. Turns out an enterprising former classmate is organizing our 20th high school reunion, and as my email address is on our alumni website from the last reunion, today I received the heads up.

My 20th high school reunion. Wow. I took a few minutes to clean the vomit off the hardwood floors and then I sat down with a cold compress on my forehead. Twenty years. Where did the time go, I think that's the expected reaction. Well, the time went away, a second, a day at a time. And then I felt nauseated again.

I felt even worse as I read through the questions the organizer wanted us to answer in our reply. I think you'll quickly understand why:

Name: Well, that one's easy enough

Occupation: Um...between engagements? Very freelance writer? Professional poker player? Hey, what the hell?

Home address: It changes in a week and I don't know it yet. 231 Something Lane.

Email address: Well, they have this already

Home phone: Also changing. Guess I can give them my cell.

Spouses name: Hey, thanks for reminding me that I'm divorced and alone and DEAD INSIDE!

Children names & ages: Nope, no kids, probably never will have kids now, will probably die miserable and all alone, thanks again for cheering me up!

Other: What, you want more? How about I've gained five pounds since I got laid off instead of getting svelte as I planned?

Ahh, I'm not quite the gutted wreck I describe above. I'll be moving into my bachelor pad soon, the closing on the house is around the corner, I'll find a job, I'll get over this inertia and start exercising like I was. All will be well.

Doesn't mean I'm definitely going to my high school reunion. I had a great time at my 5-year reunion. Too good a time, actually, as I got plastered. Got plastered even worse at my 10-year (it was actually our 11th year) gathering. By now you understand that I drink, sometimes to excess.

This one...I'm not so sure. Before reunions past I'd talk to or hear from people who said they weren't going, for various reasons. There were people they didn't want to see. Or there wasn't anyone they DID want to see. Or they didn't feel comfortable seeing old friends with their lives not quite as developed as they hoped. I always pooh-poohed these concerns. Come on out. Have some fun. Have a beer, hang out, see who's even more effed up than you!

But this reunion...I dunno. The guys I hang out with today, we all went to high school together. I still keep in touch with a gang of girls we were all friends with. Certainly there are people I don't keep in touch with that I'd like to see, but I don't look forward to the questions. "So, are you married? Any kids? Where are you working now?" Feh.

Then again, I have a WHOLE YEAR to get my shit together. In a year I could have a fabulous new job. I could be dating a 24-year-old librarian/aerobics instructor. I could have one--no, two!--books about to be published. What wonders I could accomplish in 365 days!

Or...no. No, I will not even contemplate the "or". I may concede that the 24-year-old part might not come to pass, but I'll stop my backtracking right there. I will give myself the benefit of the doubt. I'll reply to the email, get on the list...and a year from now we'll see who's afraid of a little 'ol class reunion!

I do wish the nausea would let up, though.

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