I'M GOING.

Whether I want to or not. I figure I would eventually regret not going to my 20th High School reunion.

You see, I don’t like who I was in High School. I was pretty much a dork and a poseur. The kind of guy who was vice-president or secretary of every club I could get into because it would look good on a college application. I was self-absorbed in that annoying, obsequious “How can I get you to like me?” kind of way. Not a pretty picture. Dork to the core.

And I don’t relish being confronted with that picture and reconciling my current self to the dork I was in high school. Maybe I’m afraid that I am still just that dork with a more sophisticated outer presentation.

But I’M GOING anyway, painful as it may be.

I’M GOING — to renew whatever connections I can with people in my past.
I’M GOING — to cheer on the geeks, nerds, and invisibles who languished in the shadow of the A-list crowd and who have since made it good and are coming back as well-rounded, successful people.
I’M GOING — to coo at pictures of babies I’ll never meet.
I’M GOING — to swap ironic snarky comments on 80’s pop culture nostalgia.
I’M GOING — to share in mutual congratulatory thanksgiving for having successfully negotiated that psychological minefield of adolescence we called High School.

I figure they key to survival of these things is the list of things I am *not* going for.

I’M *NOT* GOING — to impress anyone with what a cool guy I am. (As if!)
I’M *NOT* GOING — to validate myself by comparing my kids, job, wife, toys, or car with others.
I’M *NOT* GOING — to smugly chuckle at how all the glamorati of my High School days are fatter, wrinklier, and balder now. (Well, not too much, anyway. Hee.)
I’M *NOT* GOING — to talk about my blog, my art, my futures work, etc. in order to paint my ordinary suburban existence as something interesting and extraordinary. I’m ordinary and proud of it. I’ll let my happy frumpy life stand on its own merits.

And I guess I have to come to terms with the dork that I was back in 1983 (and still am to some extent). He wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Bless his nerdy, approval-craving, poseur wannabe heart.

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