Monday, November 05, 2007

Digging Deep into the Muck of Life

A couple of weeks ago, I had to re-pack some boxes so I could move them from one end of the house to the other. That has been one of my many jobs during the re-model, besides fretting and yelling a lot and subsequently weeping while I try to install tile. Put all the stuff we own into boxes and then shuffle the boxes around. It’s hard work for a couple of reasons: A) I’m a wimpy, wimpy man and the boxes quickly become heavy and I have to have our four year old help me lift them, B) once I start going through a box, I tend to wallow and just gander at all the crap we’ve accumulated.

To wit: I found my yearbook from junior high. Carbon dating places it sometime in the Paleozoic era (the early 80s), so you just know there are going to be some monumentally wonderful photos in it.

Let’s start with our hero (me!).

This is my eighth grade photo:

Yes sir, that little stud muffin is ME in eighth grade. The hair was an experiment in feathering and parting it down the center that went horribly awry. Sadly, it took about five years for the scientists at the lab (i.e. middle and high school) to figure out that my hair doesn’t really want to do that. Back when I had hair, parting it on the side really was the only viable choice, but I was stubborn and just had to try and be my own unique snowflake with my flowing blond locks flashing to the sides, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.

This is me, doing my thing on the tenor sax. The guy not playing there? With the cool white mouthpiece on his alto? Total a-hole and my nemesis during all of 1979-83. I’m not going to mention his name here for an extended and lingering fear that he might Google his name and land here and then come beat me up, even though we are both in our 40s, so you’d think we’d be over all that, but instead leave that whole drama for a later post. Seriously. Dude was a bully and evil and made me all sad inside. Though my vindication was sweet. Later, children, later; you’ll get that story. And the scribbling on the photo that I refuse to take the time to remove via my mad photoshop skillz comes from the signature of one of the trumpet players, who must have had a huge inferiority complex, because he signed his name ENORMOUS and OMNIPRESENT on everyone’s yearbook on that same page. Which means that my face probably has writing on it in a LOT of people’s yearbooks. But I’m not bitter; no, not me.

Finally, we have my very first real, live girlfriend. Laurie Sousa. This picture does not do her justice, trust me. She got her braces off by time we were “going together” and was, to my eighth grader eyes, hot beyond belief. Plus, she was very smart and laughed at my jokes.

“Going together” is a ridiculous term for what we were and did. We were 13ish, so we didn’t go anywhere. I walked her home until our paths weren’t going in the same direction anymore and we hung out together at lunch. Junior high is a weird place.

This is the story of my very first kiss, which happened to be with Ms. Sousa, may she forever be remembered for something other than this, I’m sure she would hope. In any case, it gives you something of a deep understanding of why my life turned out the way it has.

Programming Note: During this month of NaBloPoMo, I will be mining this junior high yearbook every Sunday. Something to look forward to! Though in all honesty, I could tell stories out of this book EVERY DAY of the year, that’s how traumatic, funny and weird my junior high experience was. And I’ll be mercilessly mocking the hair and clothing from that period of all the people I didn’t like. Golden!

1. But you and White Alto never got into it after band practice, right? Because I’m sure you followed the old adage, “no sax before a fight.”

   Just seemed like someone should say it, is all.

   Posted by Radioactive Jam  on  11/05/07  at  02:39 AM

2. Very interesting that the boys made eachother weepy and sad on the inside...! thought this was only a characteristic of the girls. Seriously, the girl that I was afraid of had those bad ass jeans in every color of the rainbow with the high hair-sprayed bangs.

   Posted by Anitra  on  11/05/07  at  06:08 AM

3. You should look your nemesis up now and see if his life is in shambles now...that would make you feel better. 

   But, if he is having a great life, then that would probably just make you sad and weepy again.

   Posted by Killer  on  11/05/07  at  09:03 AM

4. I might be as pissed as your junior high nemesis, too, if I had to walk around sporting a Nicholas-from-"Eight is Enough” haircut.

   Posted by tortoiseshelly  on  11/05/07  at  10:23 AM

5. he does look mean.

   Posted by sarah bean  on  11/05/07  at  07:30 PM

6. sarah He was a total jerk. Wait ‘til you read the story.

   killer I did try to look him up once, but his name is somewhat common. I started wading through google results, but then got distracted by something shiny out of the corner of my eye.

   shelly Sadly we had had that same haircut.

   Anitra I’m a sensitive and caring fellow. I cry at grocery store grand openings.

   RaJ NO COMMENT. :-]

   Posted by jon  on  11/05/07  at  07:42 PM

7. My question is why does a Google ad for clergy sex offense cases pop up on this page?  Just curious is all.

   I hated 5th and 6th grade.  HARD YEARS.  It got better in 7th, thank the Lord.

   I have to go read the first kiss post now though, b/c they are always terribly awkward and outlandishly hysterical.

   Posted by OMSH  on  11/05/07  at  08:59 PM

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Holy Crap! Look at all this STUFF down here. It's awesome!

 

Really, I'm glad you made it down here. Almost no one ever comes down here. I'm like in a freaking dungeon down here. I get lonely. But not you. YOU made it all the way to the end of the page. For this I think I've a little crush on you. I don't know, is "love" to strong a word to use in this situation? Well, if it's not "love," then it's very strong "like." I'm totally in like with you for coming down here. You are awesome. Please love me back! I know, I know, I shouldn't be all needy, it's not attractive at all, but you don't know how it is to be stuck down here. Who scrolls all the way to the end of a page anymore these days? Anyway, thanks for shedding some light down here in the depths. I appreciate it. Shoot me an email and I'll send you a dollar, OK?

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