So you read about my high school years (if you did, indeed, read the last entry). And now they are about to happen all over again in a sense.
Yes, this is the year of my 20th Reunion.
Twenty percent of me looks forward to it, and the other 80 percent of my body dreads it. I know that I shouldn’t feel the need to “live up to expectations” when stuck in a large room with approximately half of my 400 classmates. But the pressure is still there, as silly as that is. After all, I know from my 10 year reunion that anyone I give a crap about doesn’t give a crap about “status”.
The odd thing is that I only have contact with two of those people all these years later: my friend Scott (I was president of the computer club in middle school and he was VP) and Cherry (a fellow “gifted and talented” student who is apparantly kicking ass in musicals in New York). Scott found me (or was it vice versa?) back when I had a MySpace page and Cherry found me on Facebook. In fact, I got to hang out with Scott last year on a trip to Austin when Dawn, Katy, and I attended a dinner party at his place. (We inadvertantly brought out the Burleson in him, and I don’t know if his significant other – a female, quit the speculating – will ever forgive us.)
And now that we live in the Austin area, about a half mile from Scott’s Dell workplace, we have yet to get together with him. Truth be told, that is probably a reflection of the way the dinner party went. Some people grow up, others grow down. I was so serious during my formative years that I belong to the latter category.
And Dawn? Well, she can just be shockingly honest, political corectness be damned. I doubt she has ever changed.
So the other day we were talking about the upcoming reunion because of emails I have been receiving. Since we grew up on bordering towns, and within one graduating class of one another, we knew a lot of the same people. And that led to the following conversation about a cheerleader from my school.
Me: She is a “butter” girl.
Dawn: A “butter” girl? What does that mean?
Me: Well, she had a great body… but her face…
It might help to read the above aloud, a common denominator of most of my jokes. In other words, most of the time you have to be there.