I'm still trying to figure out, exactly, why I've taken a fond liking to cold, iced coffee (with cream and sugar, of course). I've always sort of gone along with the notion that coffee should be hot, but this stuff make Frapuccino seem like horse sludge. Go fig.
Yesterday I did not even bother trying to watch a TV. I work at a movie theater and get all the mind-numbing stuff I can handle there, in the projection booth. I don't need Ted Koppel to tell me that bad things happened a year ago, with extra footage to boot. Mankind has seen enough of one Holocaust without having to root through the ashes of yet another one, just to remind us all of how surreal it feels to bear witness to the utter banality of human suffering. But enough about that. Been there, done that, burned the T-shirt. I will say, however, that I feel like I've somehow spared myself a good measure of mental, emotional and spiritual anguish by being too broke to even afford a TV set. Who would have thought that poverty has its perks?
I've been waiting in silent anticipation of this year for a long, long time. Why? It's the ten-year anniversary of my high school graduation. The pressure's off now; the reunion was held over this preceding weekend. And I didn't go.
Why not? Was it because I was too nervous about having nothing to show for a decade's worth of experience? Nope.
I'd logged into my old high school's website months ago, even contributed to the online guestbook there a few times and exchanged emails with old classmates. At the beginning of the year the date was still a bit murky- all we knew about the reunion was that it would happen sometime in the Fall of 2002. I kept checking in on the website, looking for a confirmation date, and even submitted my name to the registration list, to make sure that I would stay fully informed. I made arrangements with a friend to drive all the way from Nashville to Dallas in the event that my car would not be fixed in time.
The reason I didn't go to the reunion had absolutely nothing to do with all my preparations except that some inept person who ran my school's website never bothered to post the date there, nor did they bother to follow up on the mailing list/registration forms. The only people who showed up at the reunion were the people who are still living in Dallas.
So... I must wait another ten years. Perhaps, then, I shall be more prepared.