Sad today
Jason posted a few days ago stating that You Can't Go Home Again. He wrote about his old life in another town and how now, when he visits, it's not the same at all--that the people he used to surround himself with are for the most part tragic.
I woke up from dreaming about that this morning, and then by chance found his entry. I woke up missing my old life and old friends. I do romanticize my time in Baton Rouge, I guess. Well...not really. It was a blast, and I love(d) those people. I know I'm remembering it accurately. The problem is that sometimes I wish I could be surrounded by that group again, and I romanticize their current lives, polish them into something better. Some of the old crew have turned out nicely, but so many haven't. Why? Why do some people recognize the point of no return and turn away, and others just blithely sail right on past it?
The last time I saw those people it was our own little version of The Big Chill. Why'd it have to turn out so? Does anyone have friends and lives past that are not now tragic?
I am disturbed, you see, because my high school reunion is this coming weekend and I'm nervous (I guess) about the questions that may be posed about Jason's and Josh's deaths last year. I am also nervous because I know that I have to visit Josh's mom and give her a packet of things, and I'm also nervous because I need to visit Jace's grave and leave something for someone there. I really don't want to do that--I hate hate hate cemetaries and avoid them when I can--but there's a girl there who needs me. She is there at his site every day and I have to bring something to her there.
All of this is leading me to think about the past, and how awful the present has turned out for so many of my beloved friends.
In other news, I have sweat rings today in my white shirt. Something about this shirt today...It glued itself to my pits and I have these huge nasty rings. I'm in my office right now, with the shirt off, laying on the chair next to me. But I'm not topless in the office--I had a grungy shirt here that I'm wearing now. I might just teach my next class in my grungy shirt and nice pants.
Jason posted a few days ago stating that You Can't Go Home Again. He wrote about his old life in another town and how now, when he visits, it's not the same at all--that the people he used to surround himself with are for the most part tragic.
I woke up from dreaming about that this morning, and then by chance found his entry. I woke up missing my old life and old friends. I do romanticize my time in Baton Rouge, I guess. Well...not really. It was a blast, and I love(d) those people. I know I'm remembering it accurately. The problem is that sometimes I wish I could be surrounded by that group again, and I romanticize their current lives, polish them into something better. Some of the old crew have turned out nicely, but so many haven't. Why? Why do some people recognize the point of no return and turn away, and others just blithely sail right on past it?
The last time I saw those people it was our own little version of The Big Chill. Why'd it have to turn out so? Does anyone have friends and lives past that are not now tragic?
I am disturbed, you see, because my high school reunion is this coming weekend and I'm nervous (I guess) about the questions that may be posed about Jason's and Josh's deaths last year. I am also nervous because I know that I have to visit Josh's mom and give her a packet of things, and I'm also nervous because I need to visit Jace's grave and leave something for someone there. I really don't want to do that--I hate hate hate cemetaries and avoid them when I can--but there's a girl there who needs me. She is there at his site every day and I have to bring something to her there.
All of this is leading me to think about the past, and how awful the present has turned out for so many of my beloved friends.
In other news, I have sweat rings today in my white shirt. Something about this shirt today...It glued itself to my pits and I have these huge nasty rings. I'm in my office right now, with the shirt off, laying on the chair next to me. But I'm not topless in the office--I had a grungy shirt here that I'm wearing now. I might just teach my next class in my grungy shirt and nice pants.
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