One of my goals during my very, very long two weeks in DeSoto, was to clean out all of the stuff that I have remaining at my parents’ house. Originally, my goal was to sew my graduation dress-a pink and white seersucker sundress-but after realizing how much I had in my car, I realized that sewing wasn’t probably going to happen. Here’s hoping that I can get it done during my three weeks in Columbia.
Anyway, when going about sorting out the stuff, I made what essentially amounts to three piles-1) keeping forever, but staying with my parents (which was/will be repacked and most likely gone through again sometime when I have a midlife crisis and decide that half a dozen Cherry Merry Muffin dolls aren’t really worth keeping anyway), 2) stuff that I want ‘now’ (now being when I move to that fantastic place in which I have a job) and 3) stuff that I have decided that I don’t want and should be put up on Ebay or in a yard sale. My mom and I have been having some disagreements about what should go in #1 and #3-I argue that the bells my grandparents so thoughfully collected for me as a child should move to #3, while my mother argues that one day, I’ll have a china cabinet in which to display such items. There’s a lot of such items-bells aren’t the end of it. I do wonder what some of them are going for on e-bay. And the nearly 100 Breyer horses? I’m not all that partial to every one. Some could fund paying back student loans.
I have also had to fight my mom in the fact that the kitchen things-mostly fruit and vegetable knick knacks-that I collected when I was like 12 are not exactly what I am going for now. Some things would be sort of helpful-such as salt and pepper shakers and a crock (which was already recruited for back at my current apartment though not in use), but really some of the others are just plain ugly. What was I thinking?! And how many sets of silverware-good silver, mind you-do I really need? Two? Because, that’s how many I have. Two. In wooden boxes.
So in this process, I have found some boxes that contained notes written from friends while in high school. In reading these notes, some as far back as freshman year, I have realized that I am very old and that I am for the most part no longer in contact with any one of these individuals. An occasionally Facebook or MySpace message, perhaps I saw them in Columbia if they went to MU, but nothing earth shattering. I’m not going to be anyone’s bridesmaid anytime soon. I think somewhere too is a bunch of letters from a boyfriend I had that was in the army. At least I hope I kept those. Those would be fun to read though I highly doubt they were all that interesting. Probably no manifests of undying love.
Back to the high school notes, as I read them, I had trouble remembering who these notes were often talking about. Matt who? Which Matt was I supposed to ask out? Who were all these people that Lacey talked about from Pondo (Ponderosa, where she worked)? And factor in the fact that its probably been like 9 years since I read Lacey’s tiny handwriting, makes interpreting these notes even harder. Luckily, I only need a magnifying glass and not the Rosetta stone that you would need to interpret Dr. Barnes’ (an ophthalmology resident) hieroglyphic like handwriting. Sure I recognize Joe Regna and Mike Budde-they were our teachers, gym and geometry respectfully that were young and newly hired our sophomore year. And well adored! I recognize the names of my friends from DeSoto/McDonald’s but some of the others...and some of the inside jokes, which at the time would surely have sent us rolling in laughter down the halls of Pius are falling flat. Is it because I am nine years since high school? Is it because I haven’t talked to these people in most of that time? If I had, would the inside jokes and stories still be as good as they were when they were written in pink ink on a page ripped from the geometry notebook? Maybe. I would hope. But I know that sometimes, I get hung up on the past. I get hung up on things that only I saw as significant. I don’t think that even Martha or Erick would appreciate some of the old time stories about our dorm days the same way I do. If I asked Erick about EZ Chez ponies, would he know what I am talking about? (When we were drinking once in the dorms (completely illegal for multiple reasons) I was trying my hardest to draw ponies onto Ritz using EZ Chez (recently discovered by myself). Every time I messed up one, I would lick it off and try again. After finally succeeding, I gave it to Erick who promptly ate it.) OH AND ABOUT THE TIME BRAD TRIED BARFING ON ME IN ERICK’S BED! WHO REMEMBERS THAT?!?!
So who is Dade Mercer? That was Lacey’s made up FBI name from when she was obsessed with the X-Files, which is how I really like remembering her. And we once dressed up her cat that didn’t have a tail in doll clothes and took all sorts of pictures but the camera didn’t have film. At Kari’s house-‘My stomach hurts. Oh! Cheez Puffs!’ I kind of miss being in high school. Maybe things could have been done differently. Maybe not, but I certainly wouldn’t worry as much if I had to go back. Wouldn’t worry because I KNOW I’m cool. I’m going to be a doctor damn it!
[EDIT-Originally, posted to Blogger on March 12, 2011.]
[EDIT-Originally, posted to Blogger on March 12, 2011.]
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