Tuesday, November 21, 2006

Old Photos

I just got to my parent's house this evening for Thanksgiving break. My mom has the usual in a pile in "my" room, random newspaper clippings of people from high school that are married or engaged, more random things that she is saving for me in case I need them, something that my dad wants me to like even though I don't. All this and an envelope addressed to me from one of my best friend from high school's moms.

Is it sad that I automatically knew that 11 years ago I must have left the 6th grade yearbook at her house from a sleepover that my friends had? I vaguely remember wanting to see how those oh so attractive high school boys had looked like when we were in middle school.

As I looked through the yearbook a lot of things hit me: "Man, look at that hair," "I thought those teachers were so cool!" along with much other randomness. What amazed me, however, was the emotion that clenched at my heart when I saw some of those faces: That boy was so-o-o-o-o cute!, Oh, yeah - that girl was really sweet - we had that one class together where we did that one project. Oooohhh! That's the girl I was best friends with that one year. All of these seem to be normal reactions to a middle school yearbook.

The one that got me was the "Mean Girls." I know that the whole Lindsay Lohan flick was satirical. But I looked at some of those girls and my emotions went - ick - she was MEAN! There was that girl that I got into my one and only girl fight with (I liked her boyfriend (a lot), he didn't like me, he was dating her, they both fit into that "bad kid" persona and then there was nice little Lisa)(She ended up pulling my hair or something by the 6B hallway when our class was moving for something. All I remember is a lot of hairpulling (I wonder if I pulled her bangs - this was back in the day when they were sprayed 7 inches on top of your head . . . hmmm)

I thought it very interesting that I still remember the "mean girls" of my middle school - they seemed so vicious back then. I wonder if they were . . .

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