I need some counseling, electronic friends. My inner-geek has totally busted out of the basement like that guy on Desperate Housewives, and I’m desperately running around my metaphorical house trying to smack it over the head with a frying pan & stuff it back in it’s hole. Yes, I display all sorts of geekery, both in electronic and tangible forms on a regular basis. But my latest project has me feeling extra geeky, and a little self-conscious. Rather than totally going into how I come from this small town, and we all hold hands & skip down the beach when we’re home, I will just say that through a certain course of events, I ended up creating a website for my graduating high school class. The whole process was kinda fun, ridiculously easy, and a little educational. It had been about 6 years since I’d actually BUILT a webpage not hosted by blogger or diaryland or whatever, so it was kind of interesting. As much fun as the whole project has been, when I step outside of myself, the whole thing seems totally gay. I feel like Melissa Joan Hart’s character in Can’t Hardly Wait that was running around the party trying to get every single senior to sign her yearbook.
The question is; can I be class-reunion svengaliette AND retain any modicum of indie cred I ever accumulated? Or should I just accept that I am going to be making the rice-crispy bars for the damn thing & start looking for deals on marshmallow fluff now?
This is totally not getting into the feelings of embarrassment & inadequacy that were dredged up after actually going back through my yearbook to scan pictures for the website. First of all, I read my personal memories section, and I’d be hard pressed to explain exactly what I was referring to with my clever 16 year old code words for alcohol, sex, or drugs half the time. Which makes me think either (1. I was a total vapid weirdo teenager (re: normal) or (2. High school isn’t worth remembering anyway.
Next, the yearbook dedication. I can’t really remember how it came to fruition, but I ended up writing the dedication, or I guess you could call it that. Basically, there is a page in my high school yearbook, penned by a 16-year old Carol Ann, that is so self-righteous and smarmy about how fantastic we all were, it would make Karl Rove blush (sorry Hench). And yes, I totally recognize the irony of me writing about how self-righteous I was as a teen on a blog in my twenties that is built on the assumption that my college friends and I are fucking fascinating, but we are ignoring that fact right now. The long and short of it is, I can deal with whatever I’ve written in this blog, but man, this yearbook dedication thing is totally embarrassing. It’s hard to have your geekery in print and collecting dust under at least a hundred people’s basement steps.
Lastly, there was one particular signature in my yearbook that totally bummed me out. Ms. Guevara, the rockingest English teacher in history, and THE teacher who taught me how to tease out a complete thought and express it on paper, wrote the following:
“Carol Ann, to one of the sharpest, brightest, most frustrating students I’ve ever had---a word of advice. Write. Whatever combination of magic and talent and the gifts of the muse are required to create a writer, you got it. Now use it, for god’s sakes. Never doubt your ability, and guard against the beast, sloth.”
I think this bothered me because lots of people in my life are always talking about what a great writer I am. My mom is always saying, “Oh, you should include this in a book someday”, when I tell her a story; but none of these people have ever read anything I spent time writing, except Ms. Guevara. Since I left high school I can count on my two hands the number of pieces, including papers for classes, which I have been proud enough of to show to another human being. And the whole thing just makes me feel like a jerk, cause I work in a radio station. What if I’ve just been watching TiVo the last few years while the Great American Novel (blech) has been slowly being pushed out of my brain to make room for Laguna Beach trivia?
I am totally having a mid-twenties crisis.
6 comments:
On an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (which by the way is TV's greatest drama) Willow is trying to get people to sign her yearbook and then I think Cordelia says something like "The kiss of death is when someone signs your yearbook; Have a nice summer."
I got alot of those in high school. Hence massive hours spent listening to Korn, Marilyn Manson, and Nine Inch Nails.
Sigh, not that angry anymore - most of them have at least 3 kids and are on their second marriage.
I've undertaken a "family" reunion project as my nerdious endeavor. Which has ended up me running around with a fire extinguisher trying to kiss as much butt as I possibly can to extract ancient photos of Aunt Elsie and who ever else from 1928. This project has me dissillusioned because adults who used to be the role models often times hold pettier grudges than some of the 9 year olds I know.
First of all, knowing how much "useless knowledge" you keep stored up in your brain, there is plenty of room for the Great American novel and Laguna Beach trivia, or any other trivia. So you are cool there....Also, I believe that the person you are when you are 16 is far removed from the 20-something person you become during and after college, so looking back at your high school yearbook should be like looking at your mom's yearbook when you are little. You know, somewhat interesting, but since it has nothing to do with you, you move on after awhile. Anyway, that is pretty much what I was feeling when I looked at my yearbook last month when I was home for the weekend. That means giving all your classmates, and yourself, the benefit of the doubt. You have grown and changed, and so have they. Cripes, I had a line from a Sonic Youth song as my quote next to my senior picture. Sure, it meant something to me then, but now I really can't remember what or why. It is a little gay. But that is ok because I was 17 and when else can you get away with being that gay? Just ask Cedric….So don't worry about what is written in that dusty old yearbook that people hid in their basements (or their parents' basements). Do they have basements in Wildwood?
As for writing, maybe you should look into grad school….I know, the GRE and student loans and homework…blech. But lots of people have done it, and do it, everyday. Like it or not, there seem to be way more opportunities that present themselves to those in school, be it undergrad or graduate school. You pretty much have to do an internship and if you do student teaching or research, you might love it…and the opening-of-doors possibilities are endless. I guess I have just gotten motivated watching Bax take the GRE and apply to grad school and stuff. Maybe I should practice what I preach.
Bottom line, you're great. Leslie is great. I know I'm great. Can't we just look back at our 16 year old selves and laugh, like we will when our daughters are that age and they are being dumb and acting gay? I say yes!!
By the way, that picture is great. Now that the pictures are downloading, I can post again. Yay!
Well, under my name I quoted "What I Got" by from Sublime, Life's too short so love the one you got, cause you might get run over or you might get shot..
It's cheesy, and that song ended up getting played out, but I still think I should listen to 16 year old me on that on.
Even if the only reason I put that as my motto was on agreement (despite actually liking the song) with my friend John that I would use that quote if he would use "Building a better world, one student at a time" which were the sage words plastered on this gigantic electric blue banner in the cafeteria.
Other deep thoughts from the Wildwood High School class of 1997? My friend Jorge's motto, and admittedly, my favorite, "If you're not gonna finish drinking that, give it to me."
P.S. No, people don't have basements in Wildwood. They'd hit ocean about four feet below street level. You found the hole in my narrative!
Wait. If people don't have basements - do you have attics?
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