more than a record of awkward signature signoffs

kat and i aimed to make yesterday night a movie marathon, but we succeeded in only watching one film through to the credits. when erik left, i resigned myself to my room, leaving kat and brian to doze off to season 5 of "friends."

i was tired, but not tired enough to go to bed. so i flipped kat's new mix into my stereo and opened my journal. i intended to write about the day, but the music got to me. i'm not sure if i quite understand what kat was trying to say with her compilation - if anything - but it moved me to high school in a way i haven't been transported in years.

i'll give particular thanks to mariah carey for this (though tlc's creep did lend a hand) . it wasn't the old school "someday ... oooh, oooh, someday, boy you're gonna pay cause baby i'm the one who's keeping score" mariah. nope, it's her new stuff - "we belong together" and "don't forget about us." i wasn't sure how much i'd like it, but wow. kat's right. mariah has defintely made a comeback.

this is not a joke. i love folk music. i really enjoy led zepplin. and wilco is excellent, too. but mariah. man.

i hit repeat.

welcome to the fall of '96 and my crushes.

i let the memories overtake me as i skimmed through my '97 yearbook. i tried to name as many people as i could in my class without looking at names. i probably could have averaged 40%. i flipped through page after page of smiling, awkward teenagers, taking special note of how it always seems that the youngest, gawkiest-looking senior always has his snapshot next to the GQ guy who appears more or less 37. and i read through old yearbook passages, laughing at how weird yearbook signings really are ("i love you! don't lose your spunk!" "have a great summer and please call me!" "you are the light of my life! don't forget to call me!") noting this one from my friend erika in particular:

mary, bon matin. alors, je vais ecrire quoi, tu demandes. alors, donc, alors je vais ecrire pourquoi je t'aime. j'aime how you make so much noise when you walk, j'aime how you hug yourself when you talk about your dog, j'aime how you finish your hot chocolate before i've even finished mine, j'aime your weird t-shirts and your hour and our fleures de cerises movie in the making and i even like your BabyPoopyDog sometimes. Je t'aime parce que to bring out the rebel in me. Alors, je t'adore. Eh, enough. Remember, un bon rire, c'est le soleil dans la maison. love, erika

i don't think i've seen erika since we graduated 8 years ago. we might have spoken a few times on the phone or sent a couple e-mails, but last i heard she had married a former professor and went to law school at stanford. i'd love to see her again.

but i'm digressing.

i guess the thing that struck me most was that i had forgotten those things about the highschool me that erika had considered memorable enough to mention: my little rummage sale t-shirts in bright yellows and blues, my big jeans and sandals that i used to shuffle around in as though gliding through the hallways, my hair i used to wear down and curly, how i used to talk about my dog as though she were the most precious thing on the face of the earth until erika would sigh and roll her eyes.

i'm thankful that our friends see in us things that we don't. i'm glad that there were only a handful of people who wrote about the crushes i'd harbored for months (ok, ok, or years). our friends remember the little things that were projections of what else was going on in our hearts. i look back on high school and remember dances and conversations in the hallways and basketball games and joyriding in the car with newly licensed drivers. i remember my feelings, but i can't remember my specifics; i remember my friends' specifics - shelly's pretty-in-pink sweater, beth drinking the half and half at perkins, kate's man hands, or car dancing with kari to deafening loud music from kdwb while she drove like a maniac back home trying to meet curfew.

i don't want to go back to high school, but i'm so thankful for those experiences. i'm glad i had crushes that crushed, and a best friend who remained my best friend. and i'm glad that we have yearbooks to remind us of where we came from anytime we forget.

alright. time to close my yearbook now, turn up mariah carey, dance with my roommate, and be 16 for a moment.
lylas,
mary