Well, despite my ignorance of the intra-trivia politics going on, I still had a lot of fun at Tijuana Joe's last night. Although post-trivia at Bruester's was a little... well, mind-expanding.
I went to school today, because I have to face facts that school is a lot more fun than anything I can do at home. When I walked through the front entrance, though, I was immediately struck by a feeling I'd never experienced before in the 700 plus days I crossed that threshold: the distinct feeling of being an outsider. I walked the halls of Milton today like I was already gone, like I was coming back from somewhere remote to visit. The mood was accentuated by the lack of any seniors in the school and perhaps by the collective feeling of 'moving on' floating through the brains of a thousand test-taking underclassmen. With all those minds pushing forward and mine hanging back, I started seeing myself as the creepy graduated guy who comes to disrupt class and hit on high school girls. When I made my way to Mr. Wade's room, and "Landslide" was playing on his new boom box (and, god bless Stevie, it was the live version), I really did feel like crying. I knew it wasn't going to be the senior letters or any concocted graduation ceremony that would get me going, but the quiet moments when I realize that it's the last time I'll ever be using the science hall bathroom or running my fingers through the cinder block grooves in the hallway.
It's funny the way high school chews you up and spits you out. The moment you finally understand it, you have to leave it. And there really is no going back... high school is interested only in the present. It's not like there are portaits of former high school greats hanging in the halls. Even my teachers never really talk about former students, and because of it, we're led to believe that we're the one, only, and most important class Milton has ever had. But the year we're gone, our existence is wiped almost clean except from the memories of remaining students who will, eventually, graduate also. What I'm getting at is, today, I felt rejected by a previously close and trusted friend who I thought would never do such a thing.
Anyway... listen up. I need some ideas for summer reading, or I swear to God I will start reading Centennial again. Try me.
I went to school today, because I have to face facts that school is a lot more fun than anything I can do at home. When I walked through the front entrance, though, I was immediately struck by a feeling I'd never experienced before in the 700 plus days I crossed that threshold: the distinct feeling of being an outsider. I walked the halls of Milton today like I was already gone, like I was coming back from somewhere remote to visit. The mood was accentuated by the lack of any seniors in the school and perhaps by the collective feeling of 'moving on' floating through the brains of a thousand test-taking underclassmen. With all those minds pushing forward and mine hanging back, I started seeing myself as the creepy graduated guy who comes to disrupt class and hit on high school girls. When I made my way to Mr. Wade's room, and "Landslide" was playing on his new boom box (and, god bless Stevie, it was the live version), I really did feel like crying. I knew it wasn't going to be the senior letters or any concocted graduation ceremony that would get me going, but the quiet moments when I realize that it's the last time I'll ever be using the science hall bathroom or running my fingers through the cinder block grooves in the hallway.
It's funny the way high school chews you up and spits you out. The moment you finally understand it, you have to leave it. And there really is no going back... high school is interested only in the present. It's not like there are portaits of former high school greats hanging in the halls. Even my teachers never really talk about former students, and because of it, we're led to believe that we're the one, only, and most important class Milton has ever had. But the year we're gone, our existence is wiped almost clean except from the memories of remaining students who will, eventually, graduate also. What I'm getting at is, today, I felt rejected by a previously close and trusted friend who I thought would never do such a thing.
Anyway... listen up. I need some ideas for summer reading, or I swear to God I will start reading Centennial again. Try me.
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