High School Nostalgia

This is not an official invite, just something I whipped up with the information provided.

So there have been talks on Facebook about a 10 year reunion for my graduating class, and my initial reaction took me aback. I was interested and eager. What the hell is wrong with me? I absolutely hated high school! I was so adamant about never going back, I put a skull and crossbones on my graduation cap, I walked out of my graduation without any tearful goodbyes because I knew the people I cared about would still be involved in my life years later, and yet, here I was. I was excitedly putting my contact information into an online form to be invited.

Who am I? This isn't me.

I got caught up in the nostalgia, but I quickly came to my senses.

Without being petty and mentioning specifics, the reunion planning got ugly really fast and I had a wake up call. What was I doing? I barely knew these people in 2005, and here I am about to pay money to awkwardly stand around in a hotel with them in 2015? I almost volunteered to help plan the thing! (Or at the very least do some design.) The me from 2005 wouldn't recognize the person I have become. (Only in regards to my sudden nostalgia. I am a bitchin' person and proud of who I have become. Also I still like the word bitch'n.)

Even in high school I was teaching youngsters about art.

During my short lived nostalgia trip, I whipped up this postcard-styled invitation (seen above.) This event is a year off, so maybe I'll change my mind, but right now I feel like the me from 2005 slapped me across the face. Fuck reunions.


Some schools have a great student body who may enjoy such an event, like the students I worked with during my student teaching semester, but my high school was not that type of place. I would love to see my teachers again and talk to them like the little teaching fan-girl I am, and see a few friends who I haven't seen in a few months, but that is something I can do on my own.

Right now, I need to get my butt in gear and start working even harder to achieve what I want. The me in that photo would be proud of who I have become, but I'm not satisfied yet. Look out 2015, here I come. (That was cheesy, but I needed a little slap in the face and a pep-talk.)

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