Rant: Class of Who Cares.

Oh, dang, it's a rant.

Subject: High School Reunions.

I don't really understand the concept of reunions.

Firstly, 2008 was not that long ago. Therefore, no reunion is necessary. Nothing significant has happened in the last four years that would need sharing.

Secondly, what the hell is the point?

Idealists say: "Ooooh, it's for reuniting with your buddies from high school and sharing how much you've grown and how much you've accomplished!"

This is how I see it:

You leave each other for an indeterminate amount of time, usually about 5 to 10 years––something most people are almost crawling out of their skin to do, despite the tearful good-bye's at graduation.

Then, someone gets the idea of summoning you all back from remote corners of the world, only to have half the people show up. There are, also, the inevitable few who are forgotten, who find out about it after the fact. (These people end up being serial killers.)

After being badgered into going by high school "friends" who then leave you dry by not actually going, you don your semi-formal attire and meet in the smelly gymnasium to which fond memories of sweating like a pig are attached.

Then, when you're all drinking cheap wine and "socializing," meaning bragging about what you've accomplished (most of which are lies) or what you're going to do in the near future, you find out unsavory things about your classmates:

- Who has married who, which never really interested you anyway, since being married this early usually spells disaster.

- Who died. That's a really inspiring topic.

- Who's in jail or has gone off the deep end, the only topic of any interest at all, since you had bets on who would tank when you were still roped together as a unit.

- Who's made it in the world, which only makes you realize how little you've accomplished.

Then, after three hours of awkward half-conversations and way too much wine, you realize you hated all of these people anyway.

Of course, I didn't always think like this. 

When I was in high school, the thought of a high school reunion was a happy thing!

I would come back and everyone will have changed significantly, and they'd all be mature and more well-rounded.

You see, then I went to college, and I kept my F*cebook. After four years, I went back and browsed through the photos of those people I knew in high school.

Turns out, they haven't changed at all.

The drunks are even more drunk, the stoners are now hipster stoners, girls who were morally aligned are now skanks,  the skanks are wearing even less clothing and more spray on tan than they used to, and the geeks have leveled up into basement dwelling, blue-skinned WoW freaks who don't shower.

It's a crying shame. Well, not really. I'm not terribly surprised by this. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Of course, there are the select few who redeem the class, but those types generally avoid reunions or go for a short time to humor those who threw it.

Personally, I hope to end up in the "forgotten" category. I don't want the guilt of having to refuse a reunion of a class comprised of loathsome people.

So, if you hear a story about how a woman in Kansas snapped and there was a recent high school reunion followed by mass murder, then you know what happened.

Bleh. It seems like when I start these rants I know exactly where I'm going, but by the end, my brain shorts out, gets bored and whines about doing something else.

I'm going to go to bed now. This has been entirely too pointless and unnecessarily negative. But, a rant is a rant.

Peace off.

Is He Staring? He's Totally Staring.

Last night, when I was watching crime shows and waiting for Fuzzle to text me and tell me he hadn't died on his way back home, I started thinking about human behaviors.

Specifically, high school behaviors.

In my opinion, high school as a whole is just one large awkwardness painfully stretched over four years, morphing through phases and changing shapes like a chameleon on steroids.

Well, while I was reflecting on said awkwardness, I started to wonder about something I saw in my own unsightly behavior.

I don't know if anyone else  had this problem, but during my entire high school career, I was hyper conscious of anyone looking at me.

Whenever saw––or even thought––someone was looking at me, my brain would convulse and release a deluge of questions, which usually ran along the lines of:

Oh my gosh! They're looking at me, does that mean they're thinking about me? What are they thinking about? Should I look back? What if I make eye contact? Then, I'll have to smile. I hate smiling at people because I don't want them to know that I'm looking at them. If they know I'm looking at them, then they'll think I'm thinking about them, and I'm not thinking about them, or at least I don't want them to know I'm thinking about them.  

[tl;dr] version: Oh, shit. Why?

Which would release adrenaline that would make my face flush involuntarily, most likely making people think that I had wet myself or some other embarrassment.

Of course, it was even worse when it came to boys, especially boys I liked at the time.

It was like my awkwardness had been forcibly given Speed and then sent to play with children with ADHD.

Whenever a boy even shot me a cursory glance or accidentally looked my direction after he turned around to talk check if his boxers were showing, it would feel like this:

Or like this:

Rather than register his glance as something normal, my neurons would misfire and interpret it as a secret devotion or overflowing love just waiting to break loose.

So, then I would fawn like a dog over this boy for the next couple weeks until I realized that they didn't even know I existed.

My ridiculousness makes me think of Helena from Midsummer Night's Dream.

"I am your spaniel; And, Demetrius, the more you beat me, I will fawn on you!" (Shakespeare 1.2.Something). [I did that from memory. Ooooh, yeah.]

I was such an embarrassment.

"Uuaagh, oh, [boy of interest's name], without you I'll just diiiiiiiie!" (Not Shakespeare).

But, after I healed from the wounds of my own self-delusion, the process would inevitably restart when some other poor sap would, in misplaced politeness, bless me when I sneezed. 

I'm sure other people had this same problem, but probably not through their entire high school career. 

I'm really not surprised that I never had a boyfriend until I got to college, but you all know what a horrible failure that was also. [See Not So Tragic Love Life of Kate Awkward Parts One and Two]

Well, at least until this year. 

I luh you, Fuzzle. 

I think I can name pretty much all of the boys that I was interested in throughout those four years, albeit in no particular order.

For their dignity, I will not put last names.

1.) Kyle

2.) Jared

3.) Adam

4.) Jantzen

5.) Eddie

6.) Jeff

7.) Bryan

8.) Dave

9.) Colin

10.) Jason

11.) Casey

12.) Matt

13.) Matt

14.) Matt (Yes, they're all different.)

15.) Andrew

16.) Johnny

17.) Chris

18.) Andrew

19.) Kyle

20.) Louis, fondly known as Lucy.

21.) Adam

22.) Stevie

23.) Sean

23.) Blake

24.) Kerry

25.) Kevin

26.) Kyle (They were triplets.)

27.) Tyler

28.) Trey

Yes, I'm that flighty. No, I'm not making it up. No, none of them were repeated and I'm sure there were more. 

I'm sure some of you, if anyone is reading this, are wondering, "Did you talking to any of them??"

The answer is no. 

That would require me to have a spine. 

Let me give you an example of a typical Katie-Guy conversation. 

Boy: Hey, Katie.

Katie: What? Oh! He-hey, there!

Boy: What's up?

Katie: Oh, nothingreally, justyouknow, waitingforclasstostartandjustsncnbdjsfjdhgbxmncjvdfh.

Boy: Wh-what'd you say?

Katie: Nothing! How'reyou?

Boy: Good. Thanks.

(awkward pause)

Boy: Soooo, what class are you going to?

Katie: Uuuuuh, World History... NO! (high-pitched giggle) Sorry, that's tomorrow. I have Acting 2.

Boy: Cool. See you.

Katie: See ya! 

Oh, the shame. 

So, clearly there would be no reason for me to talk to them because I would only end up making myself look like a caffeinated squirrel trapped in a human's body.

BUT. 

I grew up and I can talk to people normally now.

So, there is hope for all you awkward people out there!

If I were to give you any advice on getting out of this little rut, it would be: 

Don't watch early morning cartoons on WB and actually go out and talk to people.

Okay, that's all I got. 

I'm Kate Awkward and I approve this message.

Peace off.