Setaú úta (setauuta) wrote,
Setaú úta
setauuta

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My ten-year high school reunion is apparently in the planning stages for next year. Through the beauty of Facebook, I've found/been found by several of the people who actually remember who I am (well, was). Sadly, as is usually the case, this kind of event is bringing back memories. I was not someone who particularly enjoyed high school, and so I was pretty damned pleased to graduate and get the hell out of Dodge (or Pasadena, as it were).

I spent most of my time in high school in the theater, or in Spanish class. Those were my passions, and they were what kept me sane (well, ish) through those four years. The summer before my senior year, life as I knew it fell apart when my father died suddenly. To try to keep myself in the game, I threw myself in every theatrical production my school did, and I spent my spare time with my Spanish teachers. Hell, my two Spanish teachers were the first people I told about my father at school. I admit, I still had some major problems with depression, but I managed to graduate. I applied to only one college, and it was the one farther from high school that I could find.

Everyone expected a lot of me - I was salutatorian of my class, and was considered one of the "smart ones" in my class. Everyone figured that, after I finished my fancy, far-off college, I would do something...important. Something big. Something that would validate their faith in me. I can't tell you how many people told me that they expected big things from me.

I went to college. I ended up surrounded by the "smart ones", and realized that really, I wasn't all that smart. I still spent time with the theater and Spanish departments, because the longer I studied them, the more excited I became by all their many facets. My senior year, I started losing my battle with depression again. Fortunately, this time I had a thesis to throw myself into, along with every theater production I could con my way into. it wasn't perfect, and it didn't always work, but it got me through to graduation.

To be honest, by the time I graduated I was so happy to be alive that I didn't even think about grad school at the time. (I wish I could say I was exaggerating, but...not so much. Not something I'm proud of.) I decided to take a year off, let myself sort of release the tension of that senior year. I got the first job I could (with SMART), and then...

Somehow, it's been five years since college. I haven't been on or near a stage in five years. I haven't used my Spanish since working for WaMu three years ago. I applied to graduate school, and didn't get accepted. I've learned to love gaming, and I've developed a more discerning taste in food and tea (read that: I've become a foodie and a tea snob). I've gotten married. And...yeah. All those big things I was supposed to do? All those great expectations? Not so much.

I don't know that I want to go all the way back out to Maryland just to show everyone what a disappointment I am. How can I face my Spanish teachers again? Sras. Watson and Beaver believed in me more than anything, and were certain that I was going to change the world.

Change the world. I can't even keep an apartment clean.
Tags: ponderings, whine
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