What A Long, Strange Trip It's Been

That's how I described high school, upon graduation. (I rather wish I had chosen it as a yearbook quote, but I wrote something instead which is too embarrassing to repeat here.) And so it is when one makes the return trip as well.

My Old School
I joined Classmates.com out of sheer curiosity...and a bit of frustration, as they kept pestering me via e-mail. You're able to view names from your high school, and even narrow it down to your graduating class. The experience was surreal for me. Scrolling through a list of names I hadn't even thought of in at least 20 years, it was like reading a foreign language I had forgot I had ever known.

Before you can see anything, the site requires that you create a profile, which I did. After looking at other profiles, I started to worry: did I say too much? Should I not have included pictures? Does it seem too eager? How quickly the old insecurities surfaced to mingle with the delight of seeing familiar faces that have grown and changed.

Then there are the friend requests, in which you can invite connections. I had to laugh; we've reverted to grammar school tactics, via e-notes instead of folded pieces of paper passed from desk to desk. "Do you like me? Check yes or no."

What really hit me is this: I can only now look back and realize how much time and energy I spent constructing various personae, especially in high school. Having been largely known as the tall, dark-haired quiet girl at Gates Lane (small K-8 school), I was ready for a major change when I went to South High. How exciting! A bigger pond!

My Name's Gypsy...what's YOURS?
I was determined to be the friendliest, bubbliest person ever. Sitting next to M.L. in 9th grade biology, I went around the room, taking down everyone's name and birthday. Seemed like a good idea at the time; doesn't everybody like to be remembered on their birthday? Alas, this attempt at reinventing myself didn't work out as planned.

(a few months later)

M.L.: You know, everyone thought you were on drugs when they first met you.

M.W.: But I don't drink or smoke or do drugs or anything. I'm as clean as they get!

M.L.: Yeah, but you were so...friendly. Nobody knew what to think.

Square Pegs
I knew from prior experience that popularity was not an attainable goal. No matter how hard I tried to observe the cool kids and develop the formula that would transform me into the darling of junior high, I got nowhere. Whatever gene you needed to run with the elite clique, I had the opposite. Case in point:

Having become totally enthralled with mythology in the 5th-6th grade, during a schoolyard discussion of "wouldn't-it-be-great-if" scenarios, the following words gushed out of me in an unguarded moment: "Wouldn't it be great to be able to spend one day with the Greek gods?" (Oh, yes, the response is exactly as you'd imagine from a bunch of 11 year olds.)

I decided instead to be the quirky quasi-loner in a "she's so unusual" kind of way, minus the multi-colored hair. By then I had a group of friends but never felt like I was really important to them. A loner can get along by herself if necessary.

Now and Zen
Would it be overly-obvious and redundant to say that this particular adventure has stirred the waters for me? Probably. I think, though, there's a bless in the mess. I have a better sense of self. I've experienced the security of deep connections, wonderful friendships. What if I approached these long-lost friends as myself, not as this cardboard cutout pasted together to protect my fragile ego? Could be interesting. I'll let you know what happens.