Hacking up a lung

Since I seem to have the flu, and can't stop coughing, I can't sleep in like I want.

And my mind is churning around in circles. All seemingly prompted by those stupid yearbooks. Burn them...maybe an exorcism of sorts. But I've learned to regret impulsive actions that have that air of finality.

I've been reflecting on my secret life as a teenager. I was a feral little thing with a veneer of respectability that I was finally able to cast off in college. It's really quite good that I never dabbled in drugs until graduate school (and then only pot- and only for a very short time)- or I would've been lost, I'm pretty sure. And I only drank on 3 occasions in high school.

But then there was the bad part of growing up in a smallish town. Boredom. What do you do if you don't drink or do drugs? What if you don't have a large circle of friends to hang with? Well, I drove a lot with the few friends that I had. I put tons of mileage on the truck I drove. And since my dad paid for the gas, it wasn't a problem.

And then there were the boys. I seriously thought that I could escape it all through one of them. And there were a couple of very benign relationships in those years. But also a couple of very malignant ones too. The worst almost killed me. (literally in a sense, and figuratively as well) And the best made me stronger. But at the core was boredom. I probably wouldn't have been so immersed in all of that garbage if there were more to do in that silly little town. And I'll admit that I didn't take full advantage of the activities provided by the school- I just learned yesterday that there was an actual Latin Club. Who knew? I tended towards the solitary pursuits for the most part (that introvert thing again).

If we were to play the "Which character of the Breakfast Club are you?" game, I would say - Ally Sheedy. Only I talked a lot. And laughed a lot. And found almost everything funny.