So last night

While we relaxed post drive (I think I picked up the flu on the trip- so feel a leetle icky), and watched last week's F1 Race, and recap of yesterday's Tour, I looked through my old High School yearbooks. It was the first time in over a decade that I've ventured there. I found them in the boxes of books I sorted through while at the ranch. (I'm proud of myself- I donated over 5 boxes to the library up there- I blame Scott for the inspiration.)

So it was odd seeing those faces. These people were my world. Some good, some rotten. And now some dead and some forgotten. I wonder if I would recognize any of them today. And vice versa. I must say that other than not having 80s puffy hair, and a few pounds on my frame, I don't look all that different (I think that not having kids has kept me pretty youthful). But I'm imagining that the guys that I thought were sooo hot back in the day might look rather nasty with extra poundage and less hair.

I spent time reading what was written in the books too. It made me kinda sad- I think that if I hadn't been such an angry, unhappy little wreck, I could've made better friends of some of those people. They were pretty nice. But at the time, I was very invested in the feeling of being the outsider. Thank God I didn't know about The Cure or The Smiths at that point- I probably would've been a Goth. And that would've been really rough.

It's just funny seeing all of those people who really, really mattered to me back in the day. I can't even remember many of them. Even past boyfriends. (some of those still make me shudder, though). I think that I was just too damned serious at too young of an age. Too intense. Too busy looking for someone to save me. Too lacking in the ability to not care.