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ten years in a paragraph

Some days I want to write every thought that goes through my brain, other days, I don't want to write down anything at all.

But the reason I started writing out my life is for nothing other that to help my own faulty memory, and for that purpose I make myself write when I otherwise wouldn't at all.

My 10 year high school reunion is coming up soon. I feel so old ... I probably am. I debated whether or not to go, but I've definitely got something to prove to those fuckers that I went to school with. If there were yearbook categories for "most hated" or "most likely to OD" ... well, I would have gotten a few more pages in the yearbook than I ended up with.

Anyway, I was asked to submit a pic and short bio for a booklet the reunion committee is putting together. The pic was fairly easy - I found the pic showing the most fishnet, cleavage, and purple hair (see icon, but with a better crop). The bio took me the better part of the afternoon.

How do I summarize ten years? "So, shortly after graduation, my parents threw me out of the house. I was homeless for a time, got involved with punks, eventually lived in poverty level apartments all over orange county. Slept around. Managed to escape jail time thanks to the great efforts of others. Only lost my driver's license for one year. Broke leg in fight, lost job, moved home, got sober(ish). Slept around some more. Bought a house, collected some cats, got drag race license and RVT. Drink a lot."

The version I submitted sounds a lot nicer than that.


( 5 made me bleed — cut me )
Mar. 6th, 2007 01:05 am (UTC)
Damn! Where was I before you were tainted with wretched monogamy?! *shakes fist at the sky*

You're beautiful. Never change.

Also, the correct answer to that question is probably "jail bait".
Mar. 6th, 2007 01:13 am (UTC)
Did i ever tell you that I cried when i turned 18, because I knew i could never be jailbait again?
Mar. 6th, 2007 01:39 am (UTC)
You never did tell me that. But I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, hell, I bet you'd think it a coup to convince a priest to forsake his vows.

I'd say I'd fuck a nun, but I have yet to see an attractive nun.
Mar. 6th, 2007 01:47 am (UTC)

What, Sally Field doesn't do it for you?

and yes, i would. I like making people compromise their principles.
Mar. 6th, 2007 07:43 pm (UTC)
Actually, she kinda does. But I have a thing for wimples.

Re-unions are intersting things. I went to my 10 year awhile back, mostly because I reconed, "It's better to have gone and hated it, than to have missed it and always wondered". But I'm a sentimentalist.

It's funny, I still had my long hair (and all my hair, which is more than I can say for a lot of other guys there), was wearing my red eye, and I think I was wearing the same suit I graduated in (some styles never go out of style). People made the usual small talk, and when asked what I do, I replied, "Oh, I'm in the adult entertainment industry" which usually ended the conversation quickly, or elicited a lot of questions. The funny thing about the whole evening is that by and large I didn't remember hardly anyone there. I seemed to be rememebered by a good many folks, but that's not surprising.

What was surprising is that a few of the people I thought I was going to have issues with were the most cordial and nice. I guess after a decade or so people can change. It actually kind of touched me.

Oh, and one other annecdote (and since I have nothing to do for the next 30 minutes): I ran into a guy there that I had kind of been friends with back in the day, let's call him "Stan". Stan and I were kind of pals and were in a couple of classes together. He was a bit of a rogue and quite the ladie's man as I remember. A generally likable kind of guy. I hadn't seen, heard, or thought about him since graduation. When he walked up to me, I hardly recognized him. He was haggard. He looked old, worn out, tired. Could easily have passed for mid-40's. He asked me what I did. I told him, then asked what he did. He replied:

"I sell diesel parts. Y'know, parts for diesel engines."

"Ah," I replied, looking for something to say to that, "How long have you been doing it?"

"Since the week after graduation. It's my dad's company." He added, taking a sip of his burbon, "It's what I've been doing for the last 10 years. Working, got married. Got divorced. Worked."

I just took a drag off my cigarette, stalling, "You like it, then?"

"No, I hate. Every minute of it." His eyes stared into the middle distance. They were hollow, devoid of hope. I knew I was talking to a man who's biggest fear in the world was that he would wake up the next day. He knew that the future stretched out infront of him, and that every day, forever onward would be exactly the same.

So, sometimes having a life that is hard to put into a four line bio isn't so bad.

And hey, who knows, maybe you can find some stuffy ex-jock insurance salesman to tell you bad jokes all night and buy you drinks!

-Uncle Andy
Proud member of S.M.U.T.L.U.V.
( 5 made me bleed — cut me )

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