Long Live Livlife

My friend Elena recently had someone reach out to her on Facebook. As most of you know, I don’t do FB. But this person, Katie, reached out to Elena asking for my contact info because they wanted to send a yearbook.

Um, what?

Elena asked me and I asked who this person was. You see, I don’t really remember high school.┬áBut Elena does. So I figured she would know who this was and if it was worth sending along my contact info. She said, “I think she went to HS with us.” Well that’s strange. If Elena doesn’t remember her, then who is this person? More importantly, how does this person know that Elena and I are friends?

So I gave Elena permission to pass along my contact info, but not my regular email, my junk email, the one I use to sign up for stuff, and, apparently, pass along to people I may or may not know from Elena’s FB page. Obviously, I was curious. Then, Elena emailed me, “there is more to this story.” GAH! Tell me. Tell me NOW. She said she’d tell me in person, fortunately, we were seeing each other last night.

We went to a concert and Elena slipped in just as the lights were dimming, so there was no time to talk. After the show, after hours of waiting, she gave me this.

Katie Whatsherface reached out to me on FB about a yearbook. Apparently, she learned that you had died and wanted to send a copy of the yearbook to your family.

WHATTHEEVERLOVINGWHAT?!?!?

I’m not dead.

I’m really not. This is not a ghostly memoir. I’m a real, live girl, who reads a lot of books.

Now, of course, I have so many questions, so.many.questions, and I am just waiting to see if Katie Whatsherface reaches out. She’s had my email for two days and I’ve heard jack, with a side of squat. I’m wondering if she’ll even bother now that Elena confirmed that I am, indeed, still among the living.

Also, if I were dead, why would my family want my high school yearbook. Which is especially weird because I have a high school yearbook. One from every year (which I plan to use to look up Katie Whatsherface tonight, I forgot last night after hearing the story.) Junior high as well. And one from sixth grade. All on my bookshelves. So if my family wants them they are free for the taking when they clear out my house.

So odd. So, so, SO odd.

But I am here to state, firmly, that despite the fact that I am not a member of the Facebook community, I am, as a matter of certainty, alive and kicking. (I even just did an air kick just to prove it.)

I am alive.

Long Live Livlife.

“Many Years From Now, When I’ve Lost My Looks A Little”

This June, it will be 15 years since I graduated high school. That is not really that long. Not so very far away.

Yet, somehow, I remember almost nothing. High school, to me, comes across like a story I read. I read it, digested it, and promptly forgot about it. If you remind me of some of the plot, I may be able to dredge up memories, but mostly, there’s just nothing there.

It’s not that I hated high school or that it was particularly hard or damaging. It just didn’t matter that much to me. Maybe I felt like I never belonged there, like there was something else, something more, waiting just outside those walls. I certainly remember everything that happened since in finite detail. I’m known among my friends for my incredible detail. But when it comes to high school…

That is not to say I have no memories. Just few. The ones I have are distinct. Like a snapshot. Just a specific memory, taken completely out of context. For example, I remember quite clearly that the first time we nicknamed my high school crush (to this day, he is still referred to as Island Boy) Elena and I were on a bus.

She mentioned, in an email about us visiting the Walker. I flashed on that moment and thought we must have been taking the bus to the Walker–way back then. She said no–we were visiting the Guthrie. I don’t remember ever going to the Guthrie in school. I’ve been, several times, but don’t remember it being for school. I said, “what did we see”? She said that we saw “A Raisin in the Sun” and “A Doll’s House”, but that particular time, the time of the nickname, it was to see “A Doll’s House”.

And, as soon as she said it, I remember it perfectly. Riding the bus, it was winter [Edit** I just looked it up and “A Doll’s House opened at the Guthrie October 16, 1996 and ran through the end of the year. So it really was winter], I believe, and very cold. That, perhaps, is how we got on the subject of traveling to islands–the conversation that forever sparked the nickname. I remember that play. I still don’t remember seeing “A Raisin in the Sun”, but, if I’m not mistaken, we also saw “Playboy of the Western World” [Edit**I can’t find a listing for “A Raisin in the Sun, so either Elena is mistaken, or it wasn’t at the Guthrie, however “Playboy of the Western World was there in 1997. I also saw a listing for “She Stoops to Conquer” and I’m pretty sure I saw that, too! That’s a lot of Guthrie plays]. But, none of that was there until Elena told me about it.

She, my friend, remembers everything. She knows the names of people we went to school with. She has stories about them, or at least can describe them. At graduation this winter, a man came up to me and said hello. He recognized me when I was on stage. He checked the program, saw my name, and was confirmed. He introduced himself and told me how he knew me. We went to junior high and high school together.

I don’t remember him at all. AT ALL. His name sounded vaguely familiar, but that is it. After graduation that night, I called Elena and said, “who is Matt T___?” And she knew, right away and talked about him.

Just so we’re clear,I remember that time in my life. I remember the jobs I worked and places I traveled and friends I had and things (stupid and fun) that I did, but I don’t really remember much about high school. The people. The events. Just my few significant memories, like I’ve pushed out everything else that once existed there. Who knows? Maybe it was because a brain can hold only so much and mine is pushing the limits of its storage capabilities. But, when I hear people talk about high school, friends, family, etc. I wonder why everyone else remembers that time and I really don’t.

It’s an odd phenomenon, for sure. Maybe it might be worth my time to attend my 15 year reunion. Of course, if I go, Elena will have to go with me, or I won’t remember anyone.