percy sledge reminisces

Death is fascinating.

Work story:

An email is sent out from the building supervisor, telling all employees we must be out of the building by 5:00 on August 1 because they will be X-RAYING the first floor and this could HURT US. I am brimming with curiosity. Why would they want to x-ray a floor? I think it has something to do with having to drill a hole for electrical wiring, but I am still confused. Also, even if I’m on the fifth floor, an x-ray on the first floor could effectively render me barren? My ovaries hurt just thinking about this. That must be a MOTHER KRYPTONITE x-ray.

Also, K. sent me a link to http://www.pinstruck.com. Go visit. Good Wiccan fun. Or whatever. This best part about that site is it’s FAQ and disclaimer page. I bet they deal with some seriously worried people who think they’ve been marked by the Devil himself. And I love anything anonymous. Mostly because I am a pussy. I still go to pay phones to prank call people. It’s harder to track down.

Did I just say that?

Also, a gift from daniel: http://incaged.com/

Awww. I’m glad to see some Jersey boys pushing death Metal to world domination. Its been too long since they tried a successful coup.

South Hillbilly/Canadian Deathmatch 2001

Hootie and the Blowfish vs. Sarah McLachlan
Rhett Miller vs. Bryan Adams
Tommy Shaw (of Styx) vs. Alanis Morrisette
Priscilla Presley vs. Toronto Blue Jays
Shania Twain vs. Shania Twain

High School Girls

I haven’t even seen him in 5 years, maybe 6, and even then it was a matter of coincidence that resulted in five minutes of awkward discussion. I do think about him a lot, especially now that rumor has it we are living in the same town. I think about him when I see high school girls at the movies, I think about him when I read references to news and happenings of the early 90s, I thought about him when I bought my fish, because of his aquarium. I think about him when I am trying to organize old desk supplies, and his high school graduation photo will fall out from a package of old stationery. I think about him when I go out for Mexican with old high-school buddies, people we once both hung around. I think about him when I see men wearing rugby shirts. What I don’t think of is all the things we talked about, or had in common. Were there any? I don’t know. I really don’t even remember what we did, but it lasted (on and off) a few years, whatever it was. I don’t even remember his voice anymore. I do, however, remember his laugh. I guess that’s the best memory of all to retain.

There are very few, if any, people who know me as both a child and a woman, for a short period of time he had exclusive entry into both worlds. We sat one Saturday night, during one of several (the final and successful? I can’t recall) breakups, therapeutically taking turns listing one good, and then one bad thing about being “us”…(good thing, driving around aimlessly- bad thing, my mother; good thing, furtive kisses after geometry class- bad thing; his messing around behind my back; good thing, his class ring…). A year or two after our break-up he sent me a Christmas card with bunnies on the front, written inside in his neat boy-handwriting “You’ll always have a special place in my heart.” I have shorter hair now. It was long then.

I think there were 4 or 5 emails and phone calls throughout my years in college, 3 paragraph notes with updates on school, job searches. For a few years I would send him a birthday card, but that was a nice gesture that kind of faded away

I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if we had never known each other as children, but had met now. Knowing someone as both a child and an adult is horrendously confusing – we had adult bodies that were in constant conflict with still-child brains. Now that we are both adults, would we even be acquaintances?

Like many people I grew up with, I partially think the interest in seeing him is an ego boost for myself. I am competitive. And, I want to brag- I have done things, I have seen things, things the child me never even considered when I was 16, 17 years old and with him. I am much more fun now. I have changed and evolved and bettered. He is getting married(!), I am not. He has a business, I have a job and a life and wonderful friends and more things to do and see. I have had more relationships than he has. He is probably very happy with his finacee. Life is good for both of us.

After a frisbee game the other night, Sig Other and I were walking back to the car and passed a couple leaning up against a car. She was in cutoffs and a ponytail, he was in a black teeshirt with tipped, spiky blond hair. I’m guessing they were 15 or 16, although it was hard to tell since they were making out with a furious abandon. Sig Other grinned. “Don’t you wish sometimes you had that kind of passion again?”

I grinned to and took his hand. “Not really,” I said.

“Me either.”

I would never want to do 17 again. I kind of like being an adult. Or at least faking it.

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