The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Trivial Pursuits => Wild Card => Topic started by: jay-ell on September 14, 2007, 06:45:47 pm
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Our ten-year reunion is this year and we're starting to get invitations. I could not care less if about seeing these people again but Pedro sort of seems to want to go. Has anybody gone to one? Are they as bad as they seem on TV? I always had the impression these kinds of things are supposed to be half-assed affairs in the high school gym but apparently ours is an Event at a Nice Hotel and they are charging $55/person and providing an open bar. (Whee! All the diet coke I can drink!)
Nobody will remember me but everyone will remember Pedro. I figure that anyone I liked well enough at the time I kept up with. But I think Pedro feels like he "should" go because he had so many acquaintances that he left on friendly terms and never saw again, and would like to renew contact.
I think that's what the internet is for, besides which, we don't owe these people shit.
Should we go?
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I think a 10 year reunion is a little premature. I went to my 20th and enjoyed it very much. However, 10 years out I doubt I would have gotten much out of the experience -- I hadn't been separated from these people long enough to appreciate reuniting.
My mother went to her 50th last weekend and enjoyed it very much.
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I think I forgot to attend my 20th this summer. I haven't noticed any aching holes in my psyche.
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The SO should have had her 10th this year but didn't hear anything. I've always thought that I'd blow off my 10th but I'm actually considering going.
I think it's because (stop reading now if you aren't interesting a long boring story) last year a childhood friend decided to sign up for the army and had a going away party. I didn't see the guy much after 6th grade because we had moved to different social groups. But at the party and a couple of subsequent gatherings I've gotten back in touch with guys I haven't seen since 12th grade and often hadn't actually talked to since 8th. And it was actually pretty fun. Of course I'm worried now that when I meet up with the people I actually did hang out with (drama freaks) we won't have anything in common at all any more.
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I went to my tenth, basically only because I was in town back home at the time and seemed to feel that it would look shabby of me if I was a half-mile away from it and not 3000 miles away from it and still not there. Being Los Angeles is a tidy excuse to miss a lot of unpleasant things back home.
It was, of course, too early. Some of the people there really weren't all that far out of college, if they got post-bachelors' education of any kind. Disturbing how many of them had already settled on one places to live and then started dropping out larve when we're all still in our later twenties and really shouldn't even know how to fuck properly yet or know what kind of music we'll ultimately be into...
Let alone being locked into one path between here and the grave.
But, I suppose, that's a small town for you. Some of these people were 28 and had nine year olds already.
Time is linear, memory's a stranger, God is a word people use to explain why their father is dead or why they're not even thirty and the factory they're working in is going to close next week and what the hell are they gonna do, they thought they had this all figured out... figured out from here to the grave.
I'm inclined to choose a different path.
But it was largely nice. I made my peace with some people and I was pleasantly surprised to see that when you've got 45 people from a class of 84 all in the same room ten years later, all the old cliques are irrelevant. Nearly everyone was just happy to see familiar faces again. On that level, it was relatively rad.
Wholly unnecessary but nice.
Strange that in this town I feel like a complete fuck*ng failure but if I am back home in small doses, everyone was so amazingly proud that they knew someone who was on the teevee for half-a-second once, as an extra in a trailer for a low-budget comedy, even more than a year after the fact.
I felt a bit like the Silver Surfer, y'know. Treated as though I was magic just because I had been at the edge of what they consider to be magic for a few times in my life, as though the shine of it was still on me and without even thinking of all the downsides to such equations. I didn't know if I should feel like a fraud but... I didn't wanna ruin their happiness... so I downplayed things but played along.
Put your arm around the man who has fetched a Diet Coke for the star of Reindeer Games.
Having walked amoungst gods, even if it was two steps behind. Rode with the stars or, at least, parked their cars.
Just like the Silver Surfer, powerful in that context and only that context but strictly ambivalent and kinda lonely.
I drank as much as I could to kill that feeling, smoked a joint with some friends, et cetera, had a decent time.
Your mileage may, of course, vary.
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But, I suppose, that's a small town for you. Some of these people were 28 and had nine year olds already.
my roommate apparently dated some slightly older girls in high school.
of his two ex-girlfriends, one is married with a kid, and the other is divorced.
I think I will go to my reunions. They seem like they'll be worthwhile, most people at my school were nice enough and all.
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I was just talking about this today with my dramaturge because she's been to hers and found it interesting that at the reunion everyone was on an equal playing field. All the cool kids and losers and everyone... they no longer hold the power of their cliques.
I avoided even the idea of a highschool reunion, then later heard that there was none and everyone had expected me to plan one. Odd because I hated almost everyone in my graduating class, but understandable because I was the student council keener back in the day. I don't have a lot of fond memories of highschool and would never go. I suppose if I really enjoyed bragging I'd go. But that's about the only reason. Everyone in my class remembers me, though I'm only in touch with one of them.
Facebook has been more than enough of a highschool reunion for me. I get the satisfaction of knowing that one asshole never went anywhere and is just working in his dad's shop, my smart friends are doctors and scientists, and the slutty girl's profile picture is a shot of her tits... without having to talk to them. My best friend from highschool tracked me down this way, and we met after not seeing each other for over 10 years. Turns out she dropped out of college and she's into some weird underground sex shit that I didn't want to hear the details of. This is not at all surprising.
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I was surprised that the high school reunion committee tracked me down in Alaska. Do they run a credit check or something on everyone to find out current addresses?
Anyway, ours was ridiculously expensive ($90 if you signed up last year, $120 per person at the door) and it was in a trendy, expensive-ass, gentrified portion of downtown (Denver's "LoDo" or Lower Downtown). I already keep in contact with most of the people I still care about. My boss in AK only let me leave once per year, and I knew that she wouldn't budge on her policy to let me attend a high school reunion. I also have zero desire to go back and see all the stupid rich assholes...who just like at age 16, are still driving brand-new BMWs and Mercedes, except now they have posh jobs either at Daddy's company or through one of Daddy's golf buddies.
Anyway, once I got back home and was jobless, I reeeeallly didn't want to attend my reunion. "Hi, I just got back to Denver after 3 years in rural AK and now I'm just doing part time contract work until I can find something in my field." No thanks. I want to go back when I'm a size 4 and owner of a multimillion dollar company.
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The key to getting over such worries, L-Money, is keeping in mind at all times that in seventy years, all those people will be unified in the equality of the grave.
I don't mean this in a ghoulish or depressing way. I mean this in a existential life-affirming kinda way.
They'll have spent their whole lives putting their efforts into having Stuff and Things and Looks and Status and... they're gonna die no matter what they do! If there's an afterlife at all, none of those things will mean anything there, for good OR for bad!
While you have been off figuring things out and having adventures and so on.
If there is some next world, you'll be a lot better prepared for it.
If there isn't, you have the knowledge that you explored more of the breadth and depth of the human condition while they were sittin' around being smug about gettin' born on third base, that they wasted their eyeblink of a lifetime and you got to take the good and take the bad and take the both and there you had and an actual life. An actual life.
This is what I do when someone is judging me or trying to one up me...
I imagine myself and this person both rotting in our graves, if there's a civilization left to bury us by then, realize that all the money in the world doesn't change a festering corpse into anything more or less than a festering corpse... and I kinda laugh and get over it.
It is like imagining everyone in their underwear to give a speech, except more basic and awesome.
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I wasn't intending to expand the scope, Ash, merely making a finer point on those we're already talking about.
Though I could definitely see where the stream-of-consciousness I was floating down is easily interpreted like that. Mea maxima culpa.
I would say that the majority of people coasting off daddy's money are ginormous douches but certainly not all, by any means.
83% of them, we'll say, are ginormous douches. 17% are awesome people who just had a different path through life.
Of course, it is arguable that 83% of ALL humanity are ginormous douches, independent of class race creed and colour.
All I am really saying is... they aren't better for what they own, they aren't worse for what they own, either.
There is dignity neither in poverty NOR wealth, dignity is completely independent of such temporary deeds and objects.
It is arguable, though, that the more of the world, the more angles on the human experience one has seen and experienced and learned of... this probably lowers the chances of a person being a ginormous douche.
The ability to empathize with other human beings is the largest component of not being a ginormous douche and generally a depth and breadth of life experiences and troubles and tragedies to overcome in some manner enhance the empathy of a given person if they also have the time to reflect on an experience.
If a dude is born rich but is forced to confront the essential humanity within himself and all people because of some sort of Large Trouble that money is not a factor in... losing a loved one to a random senseless death, for example... there is a better chance that he is not a ginormous douche and may in fact be one of the minority of human beings on this earth capable of cultivating what we might call a soul.
If a dude is born poor but generally coasted around through life, never self-improving, never pushing the boundries of his own definitions of self and reality... the odds are higher that this dude is a ginormous douche, as most people are.
Excuse the long-windedness, I just wanted to clear that up.
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in Plato's Republic, it is argued that those Born Rich are more moral, and better rulers, because they are not Covetous of Gold. I don't buy this, but it's kind of interesting.
I look at the kids who went to my highschool, and I am glad that my parents think that giving me (much) money is a bad idea. The kids I went to school with...
they're nice enough, but many are on their way to becoming enormous douches. Especially a particular guy who... was my former best friend? biggest douche I have ever met. So rich. so rich.
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I don't think I knew any rich people in high school. What would they have been doing in public school in New York, I guess, even a really good one.
I can't remember which reunions I went to. I think I went the 5th which was much too soon, and the 10th, which I think was fairly interesting. Then I skipped the 15th. Then this past year was the 20th. I didn't exactly go - I went to a small party the night before and got stuck talking to someone awful and it was worse than pointless. I feel like what I basically have learned from reunions is that people don't change, they just become more themselves. The awful people get more awful and the interesting people get more interesting. I can only think of one exception, someone who seemed weird in high school who turned out at the 10th to have done some interesting things - but, all things considered, was probably still weird.
Anyway, since I was coming from out of town, the actual reunion on Sunday was inconvenient, and was a crap brunch held in a crap high school basement, so I decided not to bother.
The only thing that was worthwhile was that I did get in touch with someone worthwhile who I'd fallen out of touch with, although she didn't manage to come.
But mostly, I am in touch with the people I want to be in touch with, and can find out the gossip on most of the others if I care. The only reason I went this time is that the organizer is a friend whom I owe big right now, and it was really important to her. Otherwise I would not have schlepped all the way to New York for the weekend, no way.
This friend of mine was really obsessed with the question of what had happened to the cool girls. I couldn't understand it. I guess she really used to wish she could be cool, whereas I always felt that cool was kind of a stupid concept.
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This friend of mine was really obsessed with the question of what had happened to the cool girls. I couldn't understand it. I guess she really used to wish she could be cool, whereas I always felt that cool was kind of a stupid concept.
Whereas, for me, I knew that these people didn't even know what Cool was. I mean... they didn't listen to Jazz, or play electric guitar, or go to indie rock shows! How could they be cool? I mean...
they played Football. That is not at all Cool. The only cool thing they did was date gorgeous girls.
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I went to my 15th a few years back. I wouldn't have otherwise gone--I don't have many fond memories of my hometown--but one of my best friends from high school, and his wife who is married to Mrs. del Vaca's cousin (we set them up), were coming in from California, and we wanted to see them.
And it wasn't as bad as I thought. On my mental list of people I wanted to catch up with, only a few of them were there. But I had some nice conversations with people I hadn't thought of in a while, and even people who had pretty much been dicks in school were civil.
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Whereas, for me, I knew that these people didn't even know what Cool was. I mean... they didn't listen to Jazz, or play electric guitar, or go to indie rock shows! How could they be cool? I mean...
they played Football. That is not at all Cool. The only cool thing they did was date gorgeous girls.
We didn't have Football, being a girls' school. I think the cool girls were the type of people who would have listened to indie rock had 'indie rock' been a concept that we had back in those primitive times. But I may not be able to judge since the whole cool thing seemed stupid to me.
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We didn't have Football, being a girls' school. I think the cool girls were the type of people who would have listened to indie rock had 'indie rock' been a concept that we had back in those primitive times. But I may not be able to judge since the whole cool thing seemed stupid to me.
Man, if they were cool enough, they would have found a way.
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Yeah, fuck bein' cool.
As long as you got pretty ladies, who the fuck needs bein' cool?
We were hoping that your stories of going to an all-girls school were gonna combine with the concept of dating gorgeous ladies and you were gonna tell us an awesome story, womb@.
We, and I mean the royal we, are disappointed.
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Don't know which is worse: Doing your own thing or just being cool.
-- Bob Dylan
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Plato is propaganda.
Also, that was Christian Dylan (no offense to Christians), Christian Dylan blows.
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Also, that was Christian Dylan (no offense to Christians), Christian Dylan blows.
Wrong. Just dead wrong.
I didn't (and don't) agree with his religious conversion. But the poetry he uses to describe it still kicks ass. Also, during this period, as always, Dylan employs impeccable sidemen. By taking this postion you make yourself the moral equivalent of the folkies who called Bob a traitor when he went electric.
Look, it was hell of disturbing when it happened. I didn't like the social or religious implications then or now. But he writes about the experience So. fuck*ng. Well.
HOLY SHIT! The song I quoted just randomly came up as I'm composing this post. Weird.
Anyway, I don't admire Dylan for his religious beliefs or conversion. But I do (greatly) admire him for the way he describes the experience.
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I didn't go to my 10th. One of my better friends from high school, who I still keep in touch with, summed it up thusly: "No one I wanted to see was there, but everyone I didn't want to see showed up." Which is pretty much what I was expecting. There were only 73 of us in our class, and though I got along with almost all of them, there are only 10 or so that I've had contact with after graduation -- not counting the few who looked me up to try to sell me financial services. Those guys were on the football team, all of them.
We had a lot of rich kids at our school, what with it being private and all. We also had several scholarship kids who were there because their parents were ministers or were sponsored by other parents, and those were most of my friends and are the people I'm still in touch with. I never really realized it while I was there, but even though I wasn't the guy with the nicest car, and I basically had to be forced into new clothes, I was probably the best off kid in our class. I don't think I was a dick to people about it, but I don't know what other people think unless they say something, so meh. Maybe it was because my parents started off living on 40 dollars a week before they made their money and raised us accordingly.
So... yeah, that was a digression. Maybe I'll go to my 20th reunion.
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I like Dylan from the start of his career through John Westley Harding (maybe throw in Nashville Skyline) exclusively. It has nothing to do with Christianity---70's and 80's and 90's and 00's Dylan blows. If I have anything against the Christian era exclusively it is through my dad who saw him during the Christian era and he didn't sing "Rainy Day Women 12 & 35" but had his background singers do it. He was still pretty pissed about it when he told me in the late 90's/early 2000's.
Mainly, that quote isn't really something that Dylan would say, if that makes since. That is what I should have said and was meaning.
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We were hoping that your stories of going to an all-girls school were gonna combine with the concept of dating gorgeous ladies and you were gonna tell us an awesome story, womb@.
We, and I mean the royal we, are disappointed.
There were no gorgeous ladies... we were all teenagers. We had pimples and greasy hair and didn't know how to dress.
Maybe that's another thing that shows how old I am, though. A friend of mine who's writing a book about her teenage son observes that teenage girls nowadays don't seem to be that way. They must have better acne medicine and shampoo and they all get their braces on their teeth really young and have them off by high school and they dress to expose parts of their bodies that were were embarrassed by.
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...I guess I'm just gonna have to stay out of this one because I think Dylan is highly overrated and is basically a decent songwriter who shouldn't be allowed to perform his own material.
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There were no gorgeous ladies... we were all teenagers. We had pimples and greasy hair and didn't know how to dress.
Maybe that's another thing that shows how old I am, though. A friend of mine who's writing a book about her teenage son observes that teenage girls nowadays don't seem to be that way. They must have better acne medicine and shampoo and they all get their braces on their teeth really young and have them off by high school and they dress to expose parts of their bodies that were were embarrassed by.
I remember being embarrassed in middle school because there were girls whose moms bought them stylish clothes and decent shampoo and took them to the salon to get their hair done. I had bad skin and worse hair, and had secondhand clothes mixed with stuff from the Sears sales rack. It took me a long time to learn how to earn enough money to be able to take proper, ladylike care of myself. Maybe some ladies can do it on a frugal budget, but man, I could not.
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I skipped the 5th and there wasn't a 10th, or they didn't find me and I didn't care. For the 15th, I took my wife and it was very very interesting.
The dicks are still dicks. The louts are still louts.
What was weird was all the people telling my wife what a great guy I was in High School. I couldn't remember either being a great guy in High School nor could I remember being told that then.
I spent the evening circulating and mingling- talking a lot, mostly with people I didn't really hang out with in HS - out of my circle of intellectual/disassociated AP nerds I was really the only one there - but I was enjoying talking to people, hearing about life and lives, when Marian H*****g come in. (asterisks to prevent google hits). Marian was gorgeous in '86. She was a cheerleader. I don't remember having a complete conversation with her in HS although I do remember helping her out in College at OSU, probably with Spanish. Nothing big - saw her once or twice to help her out in the fall of '86, after that, no calls, dates or anything like that. Then in 2001 in a banquet hall in Ohio she walks in. We're chatting. And a 20 year old dream surreally comes true when she drags me on the dance floor. She's still gorgeous, but also sweet, really nice, down to earth - all the things I never got to know about her because in HS I was never in that social circle.
That still makes me smile. High School was almost redeemed for me in 15 minutes on a night 15 years later. And I know the guys who are still dicks and louts were watching ME that night. I'll just assume they were wishing they were me. That works for me on a lot of levels.
For 15 minutes I was lucky that way. For the rest of my life, I have a great wife and awesome kids. But for whatever reason, in my head, I put those 15 minutes in a glass ball, and keep them separate. I stare into the ball every once in a while.
It makes me smile.
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I did not attend any of the three reunions so far, and barring any unforeseen changes of heart I won't be going to the 25th either. For a variety of reasons:
- New Jersey is a pain in the ass to get back to just for a reunion.
- Everyone I know who's gone to one says the same thing: no one cares how skinny, rich or successful you are, it's all about did you have any kids? I've already spawned and get daily reminders of how awesome the spawn is, I don't need to have it validated by people who didn't say a word for me the first time around.
- Even if they did care about how successful you were, the members of my graduating class have the bar set pretty high in both directions ( so to speak ): one person is in prison for pimping, another one has an Oscar. That pretty definitively leaves everyone else in between.
- There was only one person from those days who I would truly call a great friend, and he'd be the only person I'd care about seeing. Since I just spent Labor Day weekend hanging with him and his family, and we're planning both a weight-loss challenge and which city we're going to see Van Halen in, I would say that bit is taken care of.
- The closest runner-up in the high-school-friend department lives a few miles away from me in Santa Monica. Once a year we talk on the phone, say Oh we've gotta go hang out and have a drink, and then wait another 364 days to have the same conversation.
So, a big pile of WHO CARES all around for me when it comes to reunions.