Tag Archives: High School

The Coming of Time

Posted on by

0

I am feeling like I am running out of time, that time is passing, running very quickly, away.  I have been facing this situation for more than half my life now.  I have been watching time leave me, quickly, without apology or recourse since I successfully graduated high school.  As all my friends and even a boyfriend of mine, and I, went our different ways, to grow  into adults, so that we could build our careers, we accepted the nature of the situation.  It was a serious reason that made it seem justly logical despite the sadness of a world forcibly ending.

I am thinking of all the things I neglected, as if I made decisions only for something that would make me shiny and acceptable.  That if I could put all the grades I made and the high marks I received  to some sort of justified means and end.  This, I believed, could make me happy with myself.  That if I was acceptable to society, being an owner of a real estate and a vehicle, and even having relationships with people who would be inside the house I would live in and own, then, I would be happy.  So, now, what is the situation?  What is the verdict?  Still, all the things I have neglected are things that are still being neglected now.  However, I do miss those things, like I miss those high school friends, and that high school boyfriend, because I left them behind.  I wonder, sometimes, in that big “IF” question way: “What if we had been able to keep in touch, would I now be married to a doctor, instead of an engineer?”  Would I be happier that way?  Or, would the very psychiatric-bent of my husband drive me crazy?  His ability to needle and manipulate my emotions, becoming the bane of my existence?  Or, would this be one of the smarter things that I would value in my husband?

The actual situation is that I have married an engineer, who, I do not understand.  At any time we have our argument, we each take out our secret weapons.  He, his very mind-boggling understanding of the world as the size of a dice cube, and me, my very touchy-feely, sense that disproves his mathematically-cubist world.  At these times, I do not miss the neglect.  I am engaged and nothing else really is wrong.  Nothing else matters.

So, why is it that when I look at the clock, I miss more than just time slipping by?  Why is it that my mind wanders, and I start to wish about having other things, things that for some reason, I imagine are better?  Better than what I have, which I have earned justifiably and with justifiably hard work?

I feel that if I don’t have the time to participate in things I once cared about, then, I will be a part of the world that neglects and leaves those things that matter.  That there will a be worse world in the future than in the present.  And, I fear, then, that the world will become worse, because I participate in those things that are worse.  This is world that will grow, whenever people support those things that help it become real.  These things, like almost all things, take time, take investment, and take space….  The willingness to go there, with ingenuity and belief, and love.

So, I am running out of time, and I am calculating the time as it flits away.  I fear for my children’s world.  I fear that we will neglect things too much, beyond repair, beyond recompense.  That it will take double the time and effort to just restore goodness when the bad and evil has taken it over, filling all knowledge and sense.

The logical thing to do, is to find time to start.  And knowing this, it is like I am my own creator of stress.  How many books will I have time to read on top of the life I have now?  How much will I gain from reading books, from watching movies, and from taking care of things I neglect, even though I will not worry about all of it any more?  I am running out of time.  There will always be things I will never experience.  I wonder and I worry if this will make me less than an acceptable human being.  That I will be a loser and an unpopular person for all of my life.  But, from reality, every single person has a life that is limited, beyond their control.  Some people, grow up quickly, and choose the limits, the neglect, but most people, live with the limits imposed on them.  And, even I, so gallantly writing this essay, feel that I am missing things that would make me better. I wish often, for things that money cannot even buy.  I look at the clock again, and again, it is fast, and I am left behind, with what happens outside of time–nothing.

So, I will try to remember my own advice.  When I think that nothing matters, I will remember that I have worked, earned, and lived, my life.  Everything that I have is because of me, and is honorable.  As my Grandmother says, “When you have all the time in the world, you cannot be worth it, until you are running out of it, and it leaves you for dead.”  Thank you, Grandma.

Old Flames

Posted on by

0

One of the strangest things happened to me back at the beginning of September.  I was at work in that big, massive place full of cogs like myself, when, walking through the main lobby (which I do, but not really), I thought I saw my high school sweetheart amongst a group of other suits, possibly on a tour of the cog establishment.

Obviously, he was very busy, and I did not interrupt.  I am not sure that he saw me, as I only had the quickest glimpse.  I spent the rest of the day, enamored and focused on thinking about this past fling.

That evening, back at home, I started to Google his name, as I knew it.  (Just to reveal the embarrassing… I have Googled myself, in an attempt to see if I could access everything about me from the Google.)  In any case, I found very little.  There was a long list of people who had the same name, and just glancing at the photo or the title and the location, I easily ignored more than half the list.  What I did find out from my snooping, is that he has become quite successful.  A nice title, a nice suit and haircut, and probably earning more than one hundred thousand a year.

I had feelings that I did not feel since then, suddenly come to memory.  The sight I remembered that he looked like.  It is strange to me that I did not develop a distaste for the situation.  I guess that the both of us have not moved very far from where we started.  We still live in the same city–in a good neighborhood–and we both have families we are raising.  (I cheated and read a few posts on the Facebook page.)

We both have done well, in my estimation.  We were part of a tight-knit group at school, and we are now all with degrees from the Professional Schools.  And the funny thing, all of us have lost tough with each other. Is high school a big place?  Have we moved ourselves into smaller existences?  Is this how life always happens?

If I hadn’t seen him in such a dislocated place, a place so different than what we knew of each other to be like, I would’ve just dismissed it, disregarded it.  I would’ve left it till the next day at school, between classes, to talk to him, or drop him a note.  Now, all the  thoughts that came flying through my mind was, “Could I afford to carry on a relationship based on a past, fleeting, fling?”  Unfortunately, I was left in the place where I had no answer.

I do feel uneasy, now, at work.  Thinking that I will meet him again.  Depending on the circumstances, I have thought to myself, that I may just ignore him.  The situation?  So, that we don’t have to do that “Dance with the Devil by the moonlight.”  It is funny, with old boyfriends and even just quickie flings, that there is much more ill ease than falling in love.  Even, now, at least ten years later.

So, I now wander the halls of our “Cog Establishment” with apprehension, for the next little while at least, as what I gues to be the project that might employ someone like him.  I have run the gamut from ignoring him completely, to being best friends at work.  Apparently, we both have exceeded each other’s appraisal of the other, otherwise we’d be married with children.  Sometimes, in daydreams, I imagine that we could celebrate fifty and seventy-five year marriage anniversaries, if we did, in fact, marry each other as high school sweethearts.

Just once, since September, I contemplated in a real way, about including him in my list of friends and family that I send Christmas Cards to.  But, in a real way, as well, I thought it would just look like a political move.  Meaning that I could not see any redemptive, non-calculating reason for this action.  So, just as quickly, I crossed that thought out of my mind as well.

Now, I am thinking we a have a situation, without presence.  There is a life born out of this “encounter” that goes beyond the present… we do not have contact, and yet we have existence inside our new aquarium.  I am wondering if everything is the same with him.

I have thought…. more, again…  That if we truly do not make contact with each other, that my one new year’s resolution will be to cross out his name and think no more about it at all.  We all seem to have those problems…  Problems of dangling friends.  Those “holder’s-on” that are politically useful, but, really, just suck life and time out of everyone.  I am hoping not to enter into a second “dangle-on” situation.

The useful thing that has come out of seeing something old in a new place, is that I have gone through my memory box (Year Book included) and relived, and then purged, those ideas, thoughts, sights, and smells, from encroaching on the useful and livable parts of my life.  I have strengthened the ties that I have withe the things that I have now, and I have said, “Goodbye,” after the time I should have said it.  I am probably quite complacent with myself now, but it is justified.

And so, I wish everyone that I will not see in December, a “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”

An Elixir For Love

Posted on by

0

“I was thinking about an elixir for love, the other day.  It would make beautiful people I see–almost anywhere–just become attractive.  We would fall in love, and have the most wonderful life to live!  Why did I think of such an absurd thing?  I noticed that beautiful people and I were not attractive!  We were not attracting each other!”

This is a quote, and could possibly come from all the new dating sites that have sprung up in the past five years, everywhere.  It actually is something my son said to me, on his observation of life.  (It’s sort of a summer homework project, I gather.)  From being in school, everyone is in cliques.  “And this completely shuts people off from each other,” observed again, my son.  If someone in clique A wanted to talk to someone in clique B, then there would ensue a whole ruler-full of acitivity that would evolve into a whole set of political manoeuvring, set either to establish new clique rules or to completely destroy the social lives of the clique-rule-breakers.  This is high school for thugs, politicians, and the dating game.

When I heard him say these things, I immediately wanted to counter him with something truly more worthy of reality than what he said he sees.  And, if you have guessed correctly, I was not exactly able to make my case for the shallow lives of teenagers.

I also thought back to my high school days, and yes, his description of just this one feeling, is very accurate.  Almost every high school interaction is heavy, laden, with much prejudice, and attempts to be someone part of something important.  If not for one’s own self-aggrandizement, then, for protection against those who who held much “political power” to make life miserable.  Teenagers need to feel rich, able to drive the car, and if not, then, to be able to have friends who have cars.  This is the center core of every teenager’s hope in life.  They need evidence, that does not yet exist, of worthiness, money, and value.

So, what is with my son’s need to buy an elixir for love?  Our talk actually did continue.  It was not stopped and stunted without investigation.  He is not necessarily older and more mature in his few years, but he has heard the lectures nd the talk of those who are more mature and have more experience.  So, I asked him, what exactly he was thinking of when he used such a strong metaphor for his thoughts and feelings?  He said something surprising enough, that it surprised me a little.  His answer?  “We are always trapped in roles we do not like.”  He is blessed with the gift of the gab, like his mother, and I immediately thought of a million things to say to him, but, I thought carefully so that I would only say what could possibly made sense to a teenager.

“Are you doing something you don’t want to do right now?”

My son hesitated, and, I gather, to try to figure out what it was we were both saying to each other.  “Everyone just hates each other all the time!  Everyone is boring.  The girls are boring, and the guys get boring.  I hate ending up stuck at someone’s house, or hanging out in the cafeteria, because there’s always nothing to do.  And people just get boring!”

I took a deep breath. It seemed that there was something on his mind.  I was wondering if there was something unrequited?  He did not answer, and was a still statue.

So, I did prod him a little, and yes, it seems, that there was a girl that was hanging out close to him and his friends, but she never really responded to the things he said or to his flat out questions about just going to hang out with him.  He was getting frustrated, but since she did always end up hanging out, close to him and his friends, he was also getting confused.  He imagined that there could be an “elixir of love” that could just make everything clear!  This girl, then, would not be so confusing, and cause him so much heartache!

“And,” as he says, “attractive people would be attractive to each other!”

I commiserated with him.  Yes, he is experiencing something that not only teenagers face every day, but something that a lot of people face in life.  I applaud him for his insight into the matter, and suggested that the answer may not be the elixir, but for him to either wait for another year, or, to find an official school club for him and this girl to join together.  “Believe it or not,” I said, “some girls are very shy, even more shy than some boys!  Don’t give up!”

He seemed to be relieved.  I am hoping, right now, that the problem does have this answer, and not some other, terrible, unexplanable answer, that perhaps only someone like God can answer.

My son and I smiled at each other, and we gave each other confidence in each other.  I am again, blessed with an easy life, and I cross my fingers every day, that we remain such a happy, lucky, family.  And, if I could, I would bottle all this into an elixir called “life” and give it away to people, spreading the joy, and the freedom that comes with joy.

Getting Close to Sloan

Posted on by

0

The band Sloan was a big deal ten years ago, and everyone who was anyone was into them.  They were the band that never lived under a rock.  So, it was a big deal when my friend excitedly telephoned me to leave everything I was doing at home and rush downtown with him to get exclusive tickets to a taping of their interview and mini-concert at the television station.  This, as my friend knew, was exactly what I did.  I recall studying for a chemistry class since the pre-exam test was happening the next day.  I actually had habits like this, dropping studies and homework for fun my friends  were all into and doing.  Just to say, so that it is said, I actually failed that test and I think I had to make up the marks in summer school the coming summer break.

So, around dinner time I made it to the line-up, which was around the block already when I got there.  When I saw the length of the line, my first thought and feeling was disappointment as I was sure the studio was not as large to fit all of us into the audience.  My second thought was hope.  I immediately mentally hoped that my friend had made it down earlier and got in line much earlier.  Lucky us, both situations were true.

We happily greeted each other and hugged.  It was our common greeting.  Apparently, he had been there for more than an hour by the time we met up.  We became accountants and counted the waiting teenagers in front of us.  We felt that it would be a fifty-fifty chance of either getting in last or not getting in at all.  We crossed our fingers and tried to relax and calm down.  Who knew what the television people had in mind….  We had watched the show enough times to know that there could only be fifty in the audience. It was a small studio, meant to capture the intimacy of fans and their idols.  So, we were nervous and hopeful, and afraid of disappointment.  We talked little, but that was our habit.  We were good friends and were comfortable as friends.  Often the only reason why we would be around each other was to talk about music, to find a place to go hang out and dance (the city hall had Friday Night concerts outside in the Square where there was a beautiful shell-shaped stage), and to walk through the city looking for music stores and buying CD’s.  We could make a whole afternoon of four hours a trek through mid-town to downtown.  We would go home satisfied with purchases and hoping we didn’t make wrong purchases.  CD’s were still something of a precious purchase.  It was always fun to open up the case, after tearing off the plastic wrap, and looking through the booklet of art and dedications.  As well as listening to the whole album and trying ourselves to critique the songs as if we were professional music critics.

Well, the line started to move forward as the front doors of the building opened up.  It was actually happening!  The ushers and gophers were counting  us and determining who to let in.  I wondered if we would be lucky enough to see a producer!  It moved slowly, which kept our excitement up, but, it seemed everyone would be let in!

In about twenty minutes, we had inched our way to the doors.  There, was a woman, trendy but professional, with a clip board.  She looked at us and smiled, and then tore two strips from something attached to the clipboard, and handed one to each of us.  She explained that we should ring it around our wrists and keep it there to get into the taping of the show next weekend.

Excitedly, we walked off to the side, away from the front doors and the line-up.  I was so enamored with our next thing thing to do, that I almost put the wrist band on immediately.  It was paper, and would not have survived a week’s worth of showers.  My friend stopped me just as I was looking at the sticky part of the band and anticipating pulling off the paper and sticking the two ends of the wrist band together.

It was a school night, and since we had not had dinner, we debated whether we should spend another hour downtown, or, whether we should rush home?  One of the things I was chronically short of all the time, was pocket money, and an unexpected expenditure like dinner on a school night was going to make me poor as well as late for school the next morning as I would most likely sleep in.  We laughed, and decided to stop off for pizza, and then, go home.

The week went by quickly, and, perhaps because I was very excited, and my friend was too, it did not seem to drag.  It seemed that almost as soon as I had gotten the wrist band, the time came up that I had to put it on for the show.

As requested, we arrived an hour before the scheduled taping and, surprisingly, they did not open the doors until twenty minutes before the start of the show.  As this point, many ushers and gophers came out the open doors and moved us into the building.  First, we put our jackets and coats in a coat room….  There was no security and we were told to remember to take our coasts and jackets with a us afterwards.  Then we were ushered into a waiting area.  Here, there were a few benches and chairs, and as each group made its way into this room, a producer spoke to us and gave us general information and “rules of conduct” as well as a short information on what would happen and how long it would take.  The gist was that we would only be in the building for the hour of the taping and we would be expected to leave as soon as the taping was over.

This whole time, I was excited, and becoming more and more excited.  I smiled a lot at my friend.  We grinned at each other about how silly it all was.

Then, from the waiting room, we finally went through a short, darkened hallway which led into the studio, which was dimly lit for ambiance.  Here, ushers and gophers were everywhere.  The band would be in the middle and the audience would surround them, the instruments and the video jockey.  The lighting was warm, and seeing the band’s instruments made us excited and giddy.  My friend and I were directed to stand with three rows in front of us by the big “garage door” windows, which were open despite the coolish weather.

Without warning, the bands latest signature song began blaring….  Apparently, being excited and too distracted, I had missed the entrance of the band, despite the VJ’s intro and admonishments to welcome them.  “Money City Maniacs” opens with a siren and sudden guitar wailing.  I was surprised and in love!  My heart flew out of my chest and I screamed with the rest of the audience.  I think I remember jumping up and down and clapping my hands to add to the noise.

The rest of the show was just as exciting.  I had never been this close to a band, or to anyone famous before.  I thought that they were closer to God than I had ever thought anyone was.  Seeing them in actual size only increased my esteem of them…  Even though they were short at about 5’8″ and 5’10”.  They seemed to have some sort of supernatural power or exceptional genius that made them famous and revered and loved.  From that night on, I have never been able to look down on musicians of any type.  To be able to create a song….  from nothing but strings and electricity, amazes me.

I have lost touch with my friend.  I think he is now married and living in a small town….  But I have never forgotten that week and the night of the taping.  Even now, when my wrist band is lost, probably ruined with water in a dump site somewhere, my heart still jumps at the memory of “Money City Maniacs.”