Class of 2000

So my ten-year high school reunion is tomorrow. I suppose this begs the question: Do I plan on attending said high school reunion?

No.

Or should I say, Hell No.

My opinion of these gatherings are, I suppose, somewhat predictable, given my nature. But there's also a healthy dollop of common sense thrown in there, too: If high school was a generally intolerable experience for me, why in the hell would I want to go to the reunion? My desire to see the classmates of yore who annoyed me profoundly, is nil, and although I can admit that I'm a functioning hermit with trifling social skills, I also know enough about basic human nature to discern that the Scroogeian "change of character" is rare. Simply put, if you were an ass a decade ago, you're probably an ass, now. Only now you've married another ass, and have procreated assy little children. Back then I didn't have a choice - in order to graduate, I had to subject myself to 8-hours of dumb jocks, vapid ninnies, nauseating relationship drama, spacey potheads, and juggalos. However, this is no longer the case. There is no requirement for me to be there, although I'm fully aware that I'm betraying some kind of American institution by opting to be a no-show. But, I've never exactly been what you'd call traditional. So why start now?

To be fair, my BSHS experience wasn't bad. But I was (and still am, to a lesser extent) too much of a mini-misanthrope to love the forest for the trees, in a manner of speaking. I was a sigher. An eye roller. Quiet and perpetually annoyed. And I suppose the irony lays in the rather naked fact that I too was a high school stereotype, though at the time I believed myself to be a One Of A Kind. Regardless, my attitude made me unapproachable, and thus somewhat friendless. (well, "friendless" on a teenager's level - I had small circle of malcontents) And because I stepped aside and missed the wave 'o teeny bopper bliss, entirely, I was able to look at my peers through sanctimonious eyes. And what I saw made me snicker..probably a little more than was necessary. With my age and experience as a mother, I've reached a small level of self-actualization: I'm far from perfect, and I know I've judged these people too harshly for too long. Still, it doesn't nullify the fact that I don't care to see them. Any of them, really.

I'm not really sure what makes me the way that I am. Not quite sure why I've never been able to enjoy the company of my peers, at least without all kinds of conditions. In my brief time in this world, I've found the only people I can seem to tolerate are people like me, and people like me stay concealed in corners like picklocks, or burrowed in their homes like funnel spiders. People like me tend to not like people like me. The term "vicious cycle" can be aptly applied.