Comments:
I've never had a proper job. I've got no marketable skills, and I spend much of my day handling excrement (usually not my own). My life has turned out pretty much exactly the way many at CCHS suspected it would...except that I'm very happy.
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Guy Parola says that time has had a homogenizing effect on our class, in that our differences, which seemed oh-so significant 20 years ago, and by which many of us defined ourselves, have been worn away, and now, "everyone is like everyone else." That's not exactly what he said. He's not that eloquent. He said, "I feenk eveewonziz wike eveewonz elves." Over the years, I've learned to translate the crude grunts and squeaks Guy calls a language into proper english, much like Jane Goodall knows what a chimp means when it smacks her with poo. "So like us."
Anyway, it's a nice thought, that we've all outgrown the naive prejudices (is there another kind?), that afflicted us as kids, and now, we're all up to our middle-aged asses in empathy and respect for one another. Call me cynical, but I bet that, if we once again found ourselves locked in a school together day after day after day, we'd clique ourselves up pretty quickly. I like to think, however, that the blocs we would carve ourselves into now would be more like clubs than the hostile tribes we formed in school. Also, I suspect that the borders between each group would be more porous and defined by concerns more consequential than hair styles and interests in water sports.
I think that I, and the other soccer moms, would stake our claim around the nearest coffee maker. There, we'd swap recipes and vent about how our spouses are busting our ova because of our spending. I'd probably be the only one catching heat at home about both fancy cheeses AND comic books. I'd also be welcomed by the small sect of parents who have taken on that messy, stinky, sleep-depriving role without spilling even a drop of our poshness. Based on the profiles so far, Elizabeth Brown (Butler) would be our leader. Mike Yudhishthu would try to hang out with us, but his khaki Dockers, corporate golf shirts and square-toed Steve Maddens would exclude him from membership.
The DINKs (Dual Income No Kids), like Dennis and Tiffany, would convert the cafeteria into a 5-star restaurant...one of those really quiet ones where, if you ask for a highchair, the maitre d' looks at you like you just took a dump on his shoes. They would drink themselves stupid, because they could, and make plans to do the same thing after work the next day, because they could.
The single people would take over the gym. When they weren't working to make themselves physically marketable, they'd walk around talking loudly about how much they're enjoying all the casual sex they're having. The rest of us would know that they are really unfulfilled, and they envy our sensible lifestyle. That would, at least, be our hope.
I hope those of you who don't know me will take this in the playful spirit in which it is intended. If not, I'll come off like a real douche.
[Note to editor: If you don't think the word "douche" is appropriate, please replace it with the synonym "zabaglo". Thanks.]
