More, more, more

So last night Spouse and I were looking back in time. I had already plundered his home for his yearbooks ages ago. And now he had the opportunity to review mine. I will say this- for about a decade or so, all Montana children looked the same. I am older, and there were fewer mullets in mine, but the puffy 80s hair on the girls was pretty much universal.

I can't help but look back with a strange combination of sadness and envy. Sadness because I was such an unhappy thing at the time. And envy at the endless-seeming potential of that era in my life. I thought that I could do anything. Anything. And then I grew up. And learned that there are limits. And that this isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I also look at those pictures and wonder what became of some of them. Especially a few choice friends whose lives wandered away early on. I was a strange mixer back then. Drama, Art, Geeks and the stoner kids. I really didn't have much to do with the intellectuals- they were a little too into their alleged superiority. I really did like the stoner kids, though. At least the girls- most of the boys were kind of angry and edgy- and not very nice. But the girls were different. Damaged little things. I see that now. They were all going out with older guys who should've not gone there. And they all wanted salvation. One in particular was really great. But I didn't really pursue the friendship outside of school- her trajectory was sharply tilted downwards, and I didn't really want to go along for the ride. I do hope she's ok out there. It's a bad sign to be snorting Rush in study hall- and I picked up on that. But she was funny and sweet and sad.

We had an odd class. 5 of them died within the first year of graduation- several were suicides, and one was a homicide (according to some reports)/suicide (according to the police). And then one (a friend in Jr. high) died of brain cancer very young. And one drowned. I could've gone to my reunion and found out the rest of the stories, but I went to my sister's wedding instead. And was ok with that. The bitterness wore off so slowly- and bits are still there. I think I could handle it, but I don't really relish the thought of going back to where I was.

Spouse had several girls who wrote their numbers in his books. I didn't have that kind of thing going on. But there were entries that really illustrated that I was kind of a mystery to most of them. Probably because I was a combo of shy and extrovert. I would wear new wave regalia that made me stand out visually, but not really let anyone in to get to know me. I was terrified of rejection. And all of them. I wonder if I still am.