Click Here To Read My Freshman Year "Memoir".
Click Here To Read My Sophomore Year "Memoir".
Click Here To Read My Junior Year "Memoir".
Senior Year: Kinda Like A Movie Everyone Rushes To See...
... No one understands it, sitting in their seats. ~ The Replacements, "Achin' To Be"
If that doesn't describe senior year for any high school student, I don't know what could otherwise. Mine began in June, not more than a couple weeks out from school; I was in need of a job, and it was Aislin who helped me, telling me about the movie theater she worked at. I figured "free movies", and took the chance. I filled out the application, went through the weirdest job interview ever, and ended up starting the following Wednesday. I'm actually typing this from here, today, some three and a half years from that day. There's the rumbling of projectors all around me, and I'm comfortable here, like no other place really has made me comfortable.
There's not much that sticks in my mind from that summer; I remember my first "preview" (checking out movies the night before they're shown -- actually encouraged by studios, distributors, and corporate offices in order to make sure the film is properly spliced together) being Signs. I remember not really going to another one for a while; it was The Two Towers, actually. That was the follow-up. I remember taking Liz to that.
Liz was a constant source of confusion around me. Sometimes flirty, sometimes moody, a girl who really couldn't take any criticisms, felt she was more grown up than most people, but could act so cute and sweet and showed enough genuine care for people that you couldn't help but at least enjoy her. Compared to me -- a slightly anti-social kid (I still don't always know what to say in some social situations) who just had stopped caring about high school and seemed cold and indifferent, she must've seemed like an angel to many. There were paradoxes in her character, though; a straight-edge kid who drank and had sex more often than she would ever let on -- a girl who "didn't care about categories" but tended to put herself into several of them by self-proclaimation.
Like I said, a source of confusion.
I had met Liz sometime in junior year, well before Grease. In senior year, however, she recieved a large closet with a desk in order to work during her lunch period study hall (seniors had the right to take fifth period -- lunch time -- as a study hall and not have to technically report to a teacher during that time). I would spend many days just sitting there and talking with her. She lost that privilege about halfway through the year, though.
I still remember my schedule pretty well. First period was Business Math (I had to make up the math credit I had lost by not showing up to Algebra the previous year somehow), followed by Critical Writing (which I got, I believe, a C+ in, mostly because I found the work very restrictive and unenlightening), British Literature, a "rest" period, lunch (two hours -- sometimes four -- of nothing but sitting and talking? Sweet.), Business Law, and finally, Sports History. I got through Business Math easily with a B+ average, managed an A- in British Literature (which was more than boring enough until we got to Shakespeare), a C in Business Law, and I stopped showing up to Sports History about halfway through the term, so I flunked that.
Second term, Business Math was still first period, while my rest period went from four to two; music industry became my third period, and Recent US History was my fourth. Fifth period was still a study hall, and I would end the day with Journalism II and Mythology as periods six and seven. This was a much lighter affair than the drudgery of the first half of the year; and because I had sorted out that I wasn't going to bother with the SATs or with college immediately after high school, I had none of the worries that everyone around me was having. The only thing I would've considered was journalism; it was, back then, a dream of mine to work at Rolling Stone. Which is much more of an obvious statement when one of my heroes (somewhere around Hunter S. Thompson, Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan) is Cameron Crowe. Music Industry turned out to be a class that was much unlike what it stated in the Program of Studies; instead of learning about the way the music industry works, it was more like a fifth-grader's workshop, where we had to "design a Hard Rock Cafe", "make our own music magazine", and what had to be the least industry-related project of them all, make a soundtrack to some event in our life, or make a "musical autobiography" using other people's songs. Of course, being disallowed songs that contained swear words (when you're talking to seventeen and eighteen year olds, it's sort of self-defeating to try to hold that type of rule down by degrading a person's score for every one you hear in a song) helped to hamper things. It was perfectly ridiculous -- and I don't think I actually learned in that class -- and was never actively taught anything. I think that was the only class where there wasn't even really an attempt to teach.
Oh, wait, never mind; Journalism II was a semi-chaotic attempt at running a school newspaper. With no proper editor-in-chief, a class that severely misunderstood semantics and could barely understand grammar, and a teacher that was less concerned with having a class than sitting back and relaxing for most of a period (this was my Junior English teacher), it seemed to implode. I took it upon myself to write the movie reviews, an occassional music review, and typed up a few main articles. However, the lack of interest for the class was astounding; for most people, the class was a gimmie. You heard about a million different instant messenger sounds when you were inside the computer lab, and there was no getting away.
Comparably, Recent US History and Mythology were rigid and unforgiving. However, they were also interesting and worth taking the time to enjoy. My Crime & Justice teacher (the half a screwball?) was also the Recent US History teacher. We spent quite a bit of time on Nixon, on the Korean War, on the 80's. We had valid discussions during class -- I remember that being how we ended the very last one we had, where we discussed the death penalty. Mythology was something like British Literature, but it was much more involving. Starting with Greek heroes, we worked our way up to Kurt Vonnegut in quite a hurry, and that's where most of us (there was a couple of dumb jocks in the class) fell in love with the class. And with Vonnegut. Slaughter-House Five became one of the few things one actually enjoyed discovering through the system. The class itself was very loose-leaf; when our teacher meant Mythology, he managed to somehow include "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" as an example of mythological statements and the keen eye of a storyteller and how best to convey the message to the audience. It also allowed me to spread my wings a bit more for writing; given to creating a mythological story which taught some simple moral, I wrote about Judas's first day in Hell (this, from a Buddhist, is quite humorous). The teacher actually loved it, read it in front of the class and everything. I got to do my project of a universal theme on A Clockwork Orange. I got to read up on Norse Gods. It was much, much better than most classes I had taken my entire school career.
Halfway around the year also brought a whiff of love. I met a girl; her name was Anisa. One of my old friends was actually interested in her, but his steps to actually be with her backfired when she began sitting at the lunchtable I sat at and got interested in me.
This, to say the least, was a shock. Girls don't tend to be very vocal about liking me, but she was. At least after a couple weeks of hanging around, I started to get more than a little hint about her. Mostly because friends were telling me left and right that she was asking questions, the questions any person to shy and unsure of how to approach the other person would ask. I asked a question of my own through Liz, who betrayed the secrecy of the deal and basically said that I had asked the question. If she hadn't of done that, though, things probably wouldn't have gone the way they did. We ran into each other at Mr. MHS (is it just Maine, or does every school have a "Mr. Universe" type of event?), and the school talent show. Things were starting to get strained as it was obvious we liked one another, but were clueless on how to tell the other one.
Finally, after watching the school's adaptation of "Anything Goes", she gave me a lift home. Pulling into my driveway, we talked. Revealed (oh so little a reveal of such a non-secret) that we liked each other. An awkward situation with an ex-boyfriend prevented us from actually doing anything, though. So I decided I'd let her decide which way to go. A friend simply told her, "If you like him, why not end it completely with the ex?"
She followed this advice. And it was the second day of April vacation when I got a random phone call and became her boyfriend, without me really catching it.
I remember her car; a manual transmission that barely ran. A Saab from '85 or so. It spent a couple of days in front of my house, stuck and leaking oil. Luckily, I was able to get people from place to place with my car, so I did get her home a few times. We never consummated; she was saving herself for marriage. I respect that. Don't care about the idea either way, but I'll respect a person's wishes. We did pretty much go with everything else, however. Hoocha!
This led to an interesting situation; it was May 14th, 2003. For those who came of age in that time, you might remember it was the day before The Matrix Reloaded was to premiere, smashing box office records and completely confuddling the audience along the way. And there was a double-date for this night! Anisa and I and Melissa and her boyfriend. Four people packed into my cherry-red Grand Am, hitting up Olive Garden, the movie, and then from there... whatever came to mind for us. It was the best memory I think I have of high school, and most of it was possible because I work at a movie theater. We enjoyed the food; we enjoyed the movie. We enjoyed going to the Nubble Light lighthouse and, well... I'll leave that to you to figure out. Melissa has a note in her yearbook for that year that basically will force her to remember.
Senior Banquet came; I wanted to dress like Lou Reed. Motorcycle jacket, aviator shades, white tee shirt, jeans. My mother forced me to wear dress pants, which threw off the entire outfit. I felt like a tool that whole night, and given that others were more underdressed than I was, I felt especially stupid. Not that the whole banquet helped; I got stuck next to Anisa's friend's obnoxious and loud 22-year-old boy toy.
To interject, ladies: remember, just because a guy's in his 20s doesn't mean he's any more mature and smart than an 18 year old. I like to think Anisa and I had more interesting conversations about her Ba'hai faith and our differing philosophies on life (which actually broke us up) than her friend and the 22-year-old probably ever had. But, I'm shallow.
Graduation was a trip. It was Friday the 13th, it was 90 degrees, and it was raining. We were inside a packed gymnasium, stuck wearing dark purple gowns and caps. The only source of refreshment was the bottle of water the school had given for each of the graduating students. Getting outside in the rain to toss the caps was something I believe I looked more forward to than anyone else. Or perhaps not; there were a lot of people that were complaining more... I could recall graduation moment for moment right here, but to put it simply: it was long, hot, boring, and generally more for the parents than for the actual students. That's a graduation in a nice, simple, tied package.
Going into the summer, Anisa and I broke it off a week later; she started dating the boy she would marry and concieve with a couple of weeks later. And I would actually sleep with a member of the girl's soccer team. But those are stories that are merely epilogues to my high school experience, the last lingering effects of four years that I barely knew how to take when they were occurring.
I'd like to blame "Here Is Gone" for the initial stirrings, and myself six years younger for making those mix CDs that really pushed me to write this down.
Fucking A, it seems so stupid now.
***
So B&B was loads of fun for the hour or so that I was able to be there. boundcreature's interrogation of my love for U2, Mylf's story about breaking a Chuck E. Cheese skeeball machine at her son's birthday party, eating TheRedBaron's food (hey, people -- 10 minute rule; you disappear for ten minutes, your food becomes public property), meeting TheFullNelson for a moment, the great line "I'm the perfect blend between sweetheart and asshole... you ate my fucking apple!". Yeah, you people are twisted, and I fucking enjoyed it. I'll hit up another event sooner or later. Because the drive down and back eats up gas like a motherfucker. Add in the fact that I got to see Match Point again and then see Melissa for the first time since the preview night for Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, just added to the overall awesomeness.
I feel like I should bring Aislin... but she's all the way over in Western Mass. Farther from Boston than zombiesdontrun and I do.
Hilariously enough, despite murkling's pressure, we actually didn't meet. Although he did meet Josh and talked about how Windham sucks as a theater.
That was awkward, too... trying to say your real name, and then your SG name. At least mine is like a real name.
Anyway, tomorrow. Work. Then Wag (The "We Were Never Gonna Do This, Fuck You Ian" edition: Fantastic Four). Then Monday, Munich again. At some point, I have to see Brokeback Mountain.
Konichiwa, bitches!
(don't ask.)
Click Here To Read My Sophomore Year "Memoir".
Click Here To Read My Junior Year "Memoir".
Senior Year: Kinda Like A Movie Everyone Rushes To See...
... No one understands it, sitting in their seats. ~ The Replacements, "Achin' To Be"
If that doesn't describe senior year for any high school student, I don't know what could otherwise. Mine began in June, not more than a couple weeks out from school; I was in need of a job, and it was Aislin who helped me, telling me about the movie theater she worked at. I figured "free movies", and took the chance. I filled out the application, went through the weirdest job interview ever, and ended up starting the following Wednesday. I'm actually typing this from here, today, some three and a half years from that day. There's the rumbling of projectors all around me, and I'm comfortable here, like no other place really has made me comfortable.
There's not much that sticks in my mind from that summer; I remember my first "preview" (checking out movies the night before they're shown -- actually encouraged by studios, distributors, and corporate offices in order to make sure the film is properly spliced together) being Signs. I remember not really going to another one for a while; it was The Two Towers, actually. That was the follow-up. I remember taking Liz to that.
Liz was a constant source of confusion around me. Sometimes flirty, sometimes moody, a girl who really couldn't take any criticisms, felt she was more grown up than most people, but could act so cute and sweet and showed enough genuine care for people that you couldn't help but at least enjoy her. Compared to me -- a slightly anti-social kid (I still don't always know what to say in some social situations) who just had stopped caring about high school and seemed cold and indifferent, she must've seemed like an angel to many. There were paradoxes in her character, though; a straight-edge kid who drank and had sex more often than she would ever let on -- a girl who "didn't care about categories" but tended to put herself into several of them by self-proclaimation.
Like I said, a source of confusion.
I had met Liz sometime in junior year, well before Grease. In senior year, however, she recieved a large closet with a desk in order to work during her lunch period study hall (seniors had the right to take fifth period -- lunch time -- as a study hall and not have to technically report to a teacher during that time). I would spend many days just sitting there and talking with her. She lost that privilege about halfway through the year, though.
I still remember my schedule pretty well. First period was Business Math (I had to make up the math credit I had lost by not showing up to Algebra the previous year somehow), followed by Critical Writing (which I got, I believe, a C+ in, mostly because I found the work very restrictive and unenlightening), British Literature, a "rest" period, lunch (two hours -- sometimes four -- of nothing but sitting and talking? Sweet.), Business Law, and finally, Sports History. I got through Business Math easily with a B+ average, managed an A- in British Literature (which was more than boring enough until we got to Shakespeare), a C in Business Law, and I stopped showing up to Sports History about halfway through the term, so I flunked that.
Second term, Business Math was still first period, while my rest period went from four to two; music industry became my third period, and Recent US History was my fourth. Fifth period was still a study hall, and I would end the day with Journalism II and Mythology as periods six and seven. This was a much lighter affair than the drudgery of the first half of the year; and because I had sorted out that I wasn't going to bother with the SATs or with college immediately after high school, I had none of the worries that everyone around me was having. The only thing I would've considered was journalism; it was, back then, a dream of mine to work at Rolling Stone. Which is much more of an obvious statement when one of my heroes (somewhere around Hunter S. Thompson, Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan) is Cameron Crowe. Music Industry turned out to be a class that was much unlike what it stated in the Program of Studies; instead of learning about the way the music industry works, it was more like a fifth-grader's workshop, where we had to "design a Hard Rock Cafe", "make our own music magazine", and what had to be the least industry-related project of them all, make a soundtrack to some event in our life, or make a "musical autobiography" using other people's songs. Of course, being disallowed songs that contained swear words (when you're talking to seventeen and eighteen year olds, it's sort of self-defeating to try to hold that type of rule down by degrading a person's score for every one you hear in a song) helped to hamper things. It was perfectly ridiculous -- and I don't think I actually learned in that class -- and was never actively taught anything. I think that was the only class where there wasn't even really an attempt to teach.
Oh, wait, never mind; Journalism II was a semi-chaotic attempt at running a school newspaper. With no proper editor-in-chief, a class that severely misunderstood semantics and could barely understand grammar, and a teacher that was less concerned with having a class than sitting back and relaxing for most of a period (this was my Junior English teacher), it seemed to implode. I took it upon myself to write the movie reviews, an occassional music review, and typed up a few main articles. However, the lack of interest for the class was astounding; for most people, the class was a gimmie. You heard about a million different instant messenger sounds when you were inside the computer lab, and there was no getting away.
Comparably, Recent US History and Mythology were rigid and unforgiving. However, they were also interesting and worth taking the time to enjoy. My Crime & Justice teacher (the half a screwball?) was also the Recent US History teacher. We spent quite a bit of time on Nixon, on the Korean War, on the 80's. We had valid discussions during class -- I remember that being how we ended the very last one we had, where we discussed the death penalty. Mythology was something like British Literature, but it was much more involving. Starting with Greek heroes, we worked our way up to Kurt Vonnegut in quite a hurry, and that's where most of us (there was a couple of dumb jocks in the class) fell in love with the class. And with Vonnegut. Slaughter-House Five became one of the few things one actually enjoyed discovering through the system. The class itself was very loose-leaf; when our teacher meant Mythology, he managed to somehow include "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" as an example of mythological statements and the keen eye of a storyteller and how best to convey the message to the audience. It also allowed me to spread my wings a bit more for writing; given to creating a mythological story which taught some simple moral, I wrote about Judas's first day in Hell (this, from a Buddhist, is quite humorous). The teacher actually loved it, read it in front of the class and everything. I got to do my project of a universal theme on A Clockwork Orange. I got to read up on Norse Gods. It was much, much better than most classes I had taken my entire school career.
Halfway around the year also brought a whiff of love. I met a girl; her name was Anisa. One of my old friends was actually interested in her, but his steps to actually be with her backfired when she began sitting at the lunchtable I sat at and got interested in me.
This, to say the least, was a shock. Girls don't tend to be very vocal about liking me, but she was. At least after a couple weeks of hanging around, I started to get more than a little hint about her. Mostly because friends were telling me left and right that she was asking questions, the questions any person to shy and unsure of how to approach the other person would ask. I asked a question of my own through Liz, who betrayed the secrecy of the deal and basically said that I had asked the question. If she hadn't of done that, though, things probably wouldn't have gone the way they did. We ran into each other at Mr. MHS (is it just Maine, or does every school have a "Mr. Universe" type of event?), and the school talent show. Things were starting to get strained as it was obvious we liked one another, but were clueless on how to tell the other one.
Finally, after watching the school's adaptation of "Anything Goes", she gave me a lift home. Pulling into my driveway, we talked. Revealed (oh so little a reveal of such a non-secret) that we liked each other. An awkward situation with an ex-boyfriend prevented us from actually doing anything, though. So I decided I'd let her decide which way to go. A friend simply told her, "If you like him, why not end it completely with the ex?"
She followed this advice. And it was the second day of April vacation when I got a random phone call and became her boyfriend, without me really catching it.
I remember her car; a manual transmission that barely ran. A Saab from '85 or so. It spent a couple of days in front of my house, stuck and leaking oil. Luckily, I was able to get people from place to place with my car, so I did get her home a few times. We never consummated; she was saving herself for marriage. I respect that. Don't care about the idea either way, but I'll respect a person's wishes. We did pretty much go with everything else, however. Hoocha!
This led to an interesting situation; it was May 14th, 2003. For those who came of age in that time, you might remember it was the day before The Matrix Reloaded was to premiere, smashing box office records and completely confuddling the audience along the way. And there was a double-date for this night! Anisa and I and Melissa and her boyfriend. Four people packed into my cherry-red Grand Am, hitting up Olive Garden, the movie, and then from there... whatever came to mind for us. It was the best memory I think I have of high school, and most of it was possible because I work at a movie theater. We enjoyed the food; we enjoyed the movie. We enjoyed going to the Nubble Light lighthouse and, well... I'll leave that to you to figure out. Melissa has a note in her yearbook for that year that basically will force her to remember.
Senior Banquet came; I wanted to dress like Lou Reed. Motorcycle jacket, aviator shades, white tee shirt, jeans. My mother forced me to wear dress pants, which threw off the entire outfit. I felt like a tool that whole night, and given that others were more underdressed than I was, I felt especially stupid. Not that the whole banquet helped; I got stuck next to Anisa's friend's obnoxious and loud 22-year-old boy toy.
To interject, ladies: remember, just because a guy's in his 20s doesn't mean he's any more mature and smart than an 18 year old. I like to think Anisa and I had more interesting conversations about her Ba'hai faith and our differing philosophies on life (which actually broke us up) than her friend and the 22-year-old probably ever had. But, I'm shallow.
Graduation was a trip. It was Friday the 13th, it was 90 degrees, and it was raining. We were inside a packed gymnasium, stuck wearing dark purple gowns and caps. The only source of refreshment was the bottle of water the school had given for each of the graduating students. Getting outside in the rain to toss the caps was something I believe I looked more forward to than anyone else. Or perhaps not; there were a lot of people that were complaining more... I could recall graduation moment for moment right here, but to put it simply: it was long, hot, boring, and generally more for the parents than for the actual students. That's a graduation in a nice, simple, tied package.
Going into the summer, Anisa and I broke it off a week later; she started dating the boy she would marry and concieve with a couple of weeks later. And I would actually sleep with a member of the girl's soccer team. But those are stories that are merely epilogues to my high school experience, the last lingering effects of four years that I barely knew how to take when they were occurring.
I'd like to blame "Here Is Gone" for the initial stirrings, and myself six years younger for making those mix CDs that really pushed me to write this down.
Fucking A, it seems so stupid now.
***
So B&B was loads of fun for the hour or so that I was able to be there. boundcreature's interrogation of my love for U2, Mylf's story about breaking a Chuck E. Cheese skeeball machine at her son's birthday party, eating TheRedBaron's food (hey, people -- 10 minute rule; you disappear for ten minutes, your food becomes public property), meeting TheFullNelson for a moment, the great line "I'm the perfect blend between sweetheart and asshole... you ate my fucking apple!". Yeah, you people are twisted, and I fucking enjoyed it. I'll hit up another event sooner or later. Because the drive down and back eats up gas like a motherfucker. Add in the fact that I got to see Match Point again and then see Melissa for the first time since the preview night for Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, just added to the overall awesomeness.
I feel like I should bring Aislin... but she's all the way over in Western Mass. Farther from Boston than zombiesdontrun and I do.
Hilariously enough, despite murkling's pressure, we actually didn't meet. Although he did meet Josh and talked about how Windham sucks as a theater.
That was awkward, too... trying to say your real name, and then your SG name. At least mine is like a real name.
Anyway, tomorrow. Work. Then Wag (The "We Were Never Gonna Do This, Fuck You Ian" edition: Fantastic Four). Then Monday, Munich again. At some point, I have to see Brokeback Mountain.
Konichiwa, bitches!
(don't ask.)
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
i'll try to plan something soon to entice you guys down again. if it's a big thing, plan on an overnight and you're welcome to crash here with me and thepants.