The days of yore.

But first, an unrelated story about today.

My first period class today was a design class. It’s an elective in high school which ┬ámeans the majority of people are taking it for an easy credit and not because they have any kind of interest in design. I’m not one of those people. I sit with a friend of mine, a fellow senior who I have worked with for the past year and a half or so on our school newspaper, and today our new project was to cut a bunch of shapes out. We’re imitating Henri Matisse, I believe his name is. In any event, in the scrap box, there were copies of a 2002 edition of our newspaper. I took two, not actually realizing that they were OUR newspaper, just thought I’d have fun with newsprint as I am a budding journalist. (Don’t tell Mom that!) While talking, we came up with the idea to have a group of us go to the movies once a month or so and come up with blurb-like reviews of the movie. That way, when Deadline Day came, we’d have a variety of movies reviewed by a variety of people. Boost our social lives, strengthen our bonds, etc, etc. Our editor in chief loved it, a couple of other members heard it and adored it…

… Then I get home and feeling distraught for other reasons already, a member who was present when I discussed the idea with our editor (and loved it then, might I add?) texts me and tells me that two people who’ve never been interested in joining newspaper wanna do a movie and TV column. Oh … okay.

And our editor in chief doesn’t seem to care. Oh well. I went for it.

 

Moving on, I thought (for some reason I can’t recall now) about when I was younger and had more friends. There used to be a girl who lived next door to me named Ashlyn. She sprouted my social life, really. I’d had sleepovers before, but that was nothing. She took me to the skating rink on a Friday night and we didn’t get home until eleven or midnight. We went almost every weekend. I used to go to Central Market on Thursday and Friday nights; there was live music and organic food and classic sodas and all of those things were fantastic, and I didn’t stop going completely. But Rollerland West had skating, Monster Energy and dozens of people my age. And I stayed out late. It was a beautiful time. In a couple of months I stopped using baby skates and learned to inline – to really rollerblade. It was a great feeling.

Newspaper is my only honest source of social interaction aside from my boyfriend, who I love dearly and enjoy spending time with but … one notices the absence of others. I was hoping this would be a fun way to hang out with people. Shot down, I am discouraged. So easily negated from a friend who I thought enjoyed the idea as well as I did, I am not exactly the assertive type to fight for my position.

This post is equally strong feelings about missing having friends to do stuff with and about the feeling of rushing around the rink, over and over again, drinking too much Monster and getting nervous about talking to the cute boy, singing in your head or at the top of your lungs as loud as you could manage to every song you knew.

You read the paper or the e-paper and you hear about these kids partying or doing something crazy or stupid and you wonder why they do it, and some of them say they love the rush. Monster’s not healthy for you, but oh, what it did for me. I miss everything. But it’s good to remember, anyway.

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