the glorious ninth: stars or snakes
so, not to be all vulnerable pants or anything, but am i the only one still sort of recovering from the reunion?
i don’t mean physically, although that definitely took all of sunday and monday. i mean… emotionally.
see, i’ve always had a problem with time and its sweet little cousin, nostalgia. henri even calls me “the girl who hates time.” one of the reasons i quit my job at rice is cos i felt haunted by the ghosts of my undergrad years. i’m always the one taking pictures (shocking) and saying ridiculously sentimental things (the famous “i love you guys!”) because i can’t let one moment slip by without grabbing it, holding it and nearly strangling it just so i can make sure i *felt* it. it was real and i have PROOF. LET ME SHOW YOU.
i had an amazing time at the reunion, and i think that’s part of the problem. it felt so unbelievably good to look around and see the same wallpaper of faces that provided my context every day for seven years (even those orange faces). i rejoiced in the sameness of my friends, even with the addition of husbands or kids, and our dynamic, easily resurrected, barely creaked with age. our hearts recognized each other and embraced without pretense. i felt safe, the safest i’ve felt in ages. safe like listening to the murmur of yr parents in the kitchen while you fall asleep, tucked tightly into yr childhood bed. my dad built my bed with his bare hands, you know.
i plunged into the weekend like jumping off a train– as if the rest of my life would rumble past me while i lay hidden under daisies and weeds. the problem is that the train shuddered to a stop and waited patiently for me to climb back aboard. “go on,” i waved to the conductor. “you don’t need me! keep going! i’m fine right here!”
but the truth is, i couldn’t just stay there. i mean, what if i got hungry?
so i plucked a daisy (proof) and reluctantly slunk out of the safety and shade. back on the train, i stared at the dirty metallic walls and felt the rhythmic repetition of the wheels on the tracks. how did i end up here?
the truth is, i hate my professional life (i wouldn’t even call it life, more like… on a respirator). the other truth is, i love my real life, kicking and screaming, in austin. but i also adored my life in high school. and college. and post-college houston. so why can’t i gather them all together like beloved children to my bosom and live happily ever after? instead, i’ve had to watch each child grow and then send it off to make its own way in the world. i hate it. my hand shakes as i wave good-bye, and i usually cry at least a few times. hopefully not in public areas.
this reunion was like a chance to visit one of my long-last children, so i eagerly drove to houston and ignored the fact that i would have to say good-bye again. that i’d probably be the sappy one who can’t let go, which feels so shameful.
this child reminded me, through yearbook messages and searching eyes, of the hopes and dreams we had for each other so long ago. back then, we thought we’d be something Great, something Amazing. a wave of Accomplishments would trail behind us and ripple against each other before touching the world. in safety, it’s so easy to hope without fear.
i know my child recognized me, but i wonder, was he disappointed? could he sense my own confusion when faced with the selves i envisioned back when i was sixteen? these other lives float around like headless mermaids, magical and threatening, in the realm between real and make believe.
i glimpsed the paths taken by friends and wondered, did i miss the turn-off?
i guess the best thing to do is pull over and ask for directions. but, actually, maybe, i just need to get lost. really lost. more lost than i already am. and i’ll try to keep walking, encouraged by the company of all of my memories, my children, my possible selves. and someday, i’ll arrive at a place that feels right, that feels victorious, that feels like home again. i’ll turn around to see the trail i’ve made and marvel at my former self, the one who was afraid.
and then i won’t mind waving it good-bye.
Wow-
I know where you are. I think the difference between you and I is that I sub-consciously, intentionally forget about eras in my life (is that possible) so that I don’t have to deal with the anxiety of the separation.
I remember not much about High School except that I loved it. I’m happy there. Same thing with college. I loved UT and all that went with it. I remember little about the details of while I was there.
If someone asked me to write my memoirs or something, I really would have to make crap up or find people like you who could tell me what happened in my own life so I could write it down . . .
I’ve really been impressed over the past few months about what a life should look like. In doing so, I’m compelled to make certain that through all of these times in my life (HS, College, Post-College, Marriage, etc.) that my life is not wasted. As fun as CCHS and UT were, life should be more than good times - although good times are good.
I’ve come to my own conclusions about what a wasted life looks like and what a useful life looks like - I won’t bore you with the details. Although I’m sad that it took me 28 and a half years to get here, I’m glad I’m here now while I still have a somewhat decent mind and body to do whatever I can to make certain that when my forgotten children and abandoned possible selves look back to me, they might still be proud of what I’ve done here and the self I was chosen to be.
i don’t really want to stop and stay too long in the memories. i get too embarrassed by the enormously stupid things i did back in high school. like being a drama queen all the time. i really relate to what randy said about wanting to make a useful life. i think that’s why i’ve enjoyed teaching even though there are many (MANY) days where i just want to smack the kids around. so professionally my life is pretty good.
of course, i’d also really like for my personal life to get good again. because right now, it’s pretty damn dreary. instead of new year’s resolutions that start january 1st, i like to make new year’s resolutions that start when the new school year starts. so that’s my resolution. i’m going to get a head start on it right now.
You have vast reservoirs of courage you haven’t begun to employ yet, and I think one day you’re going to jump out of that train, not going back to the past that your heart won’t let go, but forward, into the grand, blank, intoxicating unknown. And you’re going to realize that you’re not just the sum of lovely memories and old friends and faded photographs. You’re something more than all of your past selves combined, something stronger and better and braver.
I basically almost cried reading this because, I think since I got back from Prague and seeing senior-year Rice roommates this past weekend, I am also wondering if I did the wrong thing, went the wrong way, and if I am happy, and what it means and if it matters, and I miss it. I miss those friends so terribly, and I miss the types of interactions I had, and I cannot go back and I cannot regain it. And I don’t like it. What do I do about this? I don’t know. But that needing to get lost… I found myself asking aloud to someone yesterday, “So, what? I just put these things I do as a list on a piece of paper, and then I die? That’s a life?”
That’s where I am now. Sigh.
love you, dear
olivia
uh, why is yr inner child a dude?
uh, ray, why can’t you read good?
Man, my life is definitely not as grand as I imagined it would be when I was in high school. I thought I would be doing amazing things with my career…working at UT for crazy professors is not exactly what I had in mind. And I don’t want to even think about my former self being dissapointed…because honestly my current self is dissapointed enough.
I think we need to all give ourselves a break and not be so hard on ourselves…easier said than done :).
The easier thing for me though is that I didn’t like high school and I don’t miss it. I did love college but I don’t want to go back there. I like myself more nowadays..