I graduated in the spring of 1997.
That was a pretty big day for me. Considering that for “back then” we had a lot of drop outs. One of the first school shootings. The start of the “trend” of teenage pregnancy. I mean, I wasn’t from the ghetto, but it was still “shocking” rather than “oops, made a mistake” back then.
I didn’t love high school. I loved the friends I made from it. The ones who I’m still friends with today. I wasn’t a cool kid. I wasn’t a complete and utter cast off either. I was some sort of odd in the middle person. I do claim the title of geek. I always will.
I was on drill team, most of my friends were in the band. After football games we’d go out to Denny’s. Wearing my bf’s letterman jacket, eating seasoned curly fries with barbecue sauce (cue my ulcer at 35 screaming at 17 year-old-me) and laugh at whatever shenanigan’s happened that evening. We were so cool back then – thick eyeliner, homecoming mums, blaring music out of the sides of my Dad’s 1978 jeep that I coveted to drive to school.
The heat of summer dance practice. The crazy 90s grunge and floral wear with denim vests. Saved by the Bell. Nirvana. The cool band guy with the brown Galaxy and my best friend K trading notes between classes. We had the whole world at our feet.
When I hit college, I was prepared to become the me I thought I would always become. Crossing the stage at high school graduation was that first step. Now that it’s nearly half my life ago, how much I wish I could have told myself how many times over I would re-invent through college, after college and so on.
I am so happy I did what I did when I did it back then. I’m glad I made all the good and bad choices. Otherwise I wouldn’t be the me I am today.
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