This page has moved to a new address.

Old Lang Syne

body { background:#aba; margin:0; padding:20px 10px; text-align:center; font:x-small/1.5em "Trebuchet MS",Verdana,Arial,Sans-serif; color:#333; font-size/* */:/**/small; font-size: /**/small; } /* Page Structure ----------------------------------------------- */ /* The images which help create rounded corners depend on the following widths and measurements. If you want to change these measurements, the images will also need to change. */ @media all { #content { width:740px; margin:0 auto; text-align:left; } #main { width:485px; float:left; background:#fff url("") no-repeat left bottom; margin:15px 0 0; padding:0 0 10px; color:#000; font-size:97%; line-height:1.5em; } #main2 { float:left; width:100%; background:url("") no-repeat left top; padding:10px 0 0; } #main3 { background:url("") repeat-y; padding:0; } #sidebar { width:240px; float:right; margin:15px 0 0; font-size:97%; line-height:1.5em; } } @media handheld { #content { width:90%; } #main { width:100%; float:none; background:#fff; } #main2 { float:none; background:none; } #main3 { background:none; padding:0; } #sidebar { width:100%; float:none; } } /* Links ----------------------------------------------- */ a:link { color:#258; } a:visited { color:#666; } a:hover { color:#c63; } a img { border-width:0; } /* Blog Header ----------------------------------------------- */ @media all { #header { background:#456 url("") no-repeat left top; margin:0 0 0; padding:8px 0 0; color:#fff; } #header div { background:url("") no-repeat left bottom; padding:0 15px 8px; } } @media handheld { #header { background:#456; } #header div { background:none; } } #blog-title { margin:0; padding:10px 30px 5px; font-size:200%; line-height:1.2em; } #blog-title a { text-decoration:none; color:#fff; } #description { margin:0; padding:5px 30px 10px; font-size:94%; line-height:1.5em; } /* Posts ----------------------------------------------- */ .date-header { margin:0 28px 0 43px; font-size:85%; line-height:2em; text-transform:uppercase; letter-spacing:.2em; color:#357; } .post { margin:.3em 0 25px; padding:0 13px; border:1px dotted #bbb; border-width:1px 0; } .post-title { margin:0; font-size:135%; line-height:1.5em; background:url("") no-repeat 10px .5em; display:block; border:1px dotted #bbb; border-width:0 1px 1px; padding:2px 14px 2px 29px; color:#333; } a.title-link, .post-title strong { text-decoration:none; display:block; } a.title-link:hover { background-color:#ded; color:#000; } .post-body { border:1px dotted #bbb; border-width:0 1px 1px; border-bottom-color:#fff; padding:10px 14px 1px 29px; } html>body .post-body { border-bottom-width:0; } .post p { margin:0 0 .75em; } { background:#ded; margin:0; padding:2px 14px 2px 29px; border:1px dotted #bbb; border-width:1px; border-bottom:1px solid #eee; font-size:100%; line-height:1.5em; color:#666; text-align:right; } html>body { border-bottom-color:transparent; } em { display:block; float:left; text-align:left; font-style:normal; } a.comment-link { /* IE5.0/Win doesn't apply padding to inline elements, so we hide these two declarations from it */ background/* */:/**/url("") no-repeat 0 45%; padding-left:14px; } html>body a.comment-link { /* Respecified, for IE5/Mac's benefit */ background:url("") no-repeat 0 45%; padding-left:14px; } .post img { margin:0 0 5px 0; padding:4px; border:1px solid #ccc; } blockquote { margin:.75em 0; border:1px dotted #ccc; border-width:1px 0; padding:5px 15px; color:#666; } .post blockquote p { margin:.5em 0; } /* Comments ----------------------------------------------- */ #comments { margin:-25px 13px 0; border:1px dotted #ccc; border-width:0 1px 1px; padding:20px 0 15px 0; } #comments h4 { margin:0 0 10px; padding:0 14px 2px 29px; border-bottom:1px dotted #ccc; font-size:120%; line-height:1.4em; color:#333; } #comments-block { margin:0 15px 0 9px; } .comment-data { background:url("") no-repeat 2px .3em; margin:.5em 0; padding:0 0 0 20px; color:#666; } .comment-poster { font-weight:bold; } .comment-body { margin:0 0 1.25em; padding:0 0 0 20px; } .comment-body p { margin:0 0 .5em; } .comment-timestamp { margin:0 0 .5em; padding:0 0 .75em 20px; color:#666; } .comment-timestamp a:link { color:#666; } .deleted-comment { font-style:italic; color:gray; } .paging-control-container { float: right; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; font-size: 80%; } .unneeded-paging-control { visibility: hidden; } /* Profile ----------------------------------------------- */ @media all { #profile-container { background:#cdc url("") no-repeat left bottom; margin:0 0 15px; padding:0 0 10px; color:#345; } #profile-container h2 { background:url("") no-repeat left top; padding:10px 15px .2em; margin:0; border-width:0; font-size:115%; line-height:1.5em; color:#234; } } @media handheld { #profile-container { background:#cdc; } #profile-container h2 { background:none; } } .profile-datablock { margin:0 15px .5em; border-top:1px dotted #aba; padding-top:8px; } .profile-img {display:inline;} .profile-img img { float:left; margin:0 10px 5px 0; border:4px solid #fff; } .profile-data strong { display:block; } #profile-container p { margin:0 15px .5em; } #profile-container .profile-textblock { clear:left; } #profile-container a { color:#258; } .profile-link a { background:url("") no-repeat 0 .1em; padding-left:15px; font-weight:bold; } ul.profile-datablock { list-style-type:none; } /* Sidebar Boxes ----------------------------------------------- */ @media all { .box { background:#fff url("") no-repeat left top; margin:0 0 15px; padding:10px 0 0; color:#666; } .box2 { background:url("") no-repeat left bottom; padding:0 13px 8px; } } @media handheld { .box { background:#fff; } .box2 { background:none; } } .sidebar-title { margin:0; padding:0 0 .2em; border-bottom:1px dotted #9b9; font-size:115%; line-height:1.5em; color:#333; } .box ul { margin:.5em 0 1.25em; padding:0 0px; list-style:none; } .box ul li { background:url("") no-repeat 2px .25em; margin:0; padding:0 0 3px 16px; margin-bottom:3px; border-bottom:1px dotted #eee; line-height:1.4em; } .box p { margin:0 0 .6em; } /* Footer ----------------------------------------------- */ #footer { clear:both; margin:0; padding:15px 0 0; } @media all { #footer div { background:#456 url("") no-repeat left top; padding:8px 0 0; color:#fff; } #footer div div { background:url("") no-repeat left bottom; padding:0 15px 8px; } } @media handheld { #footer div { background:#456; } #footer div div { background:none; } } #footer hr {display:none;} #footer p {margin:0;} #footer a {color:#fff;} /* Feeds ----------------------------------------------- */ #blogfeeds { } #postfeeds { padding:0 15px 0; }

Monday, February 21, 2011

Old Lang Syne

Talking with an old high school classmate on Facebook has got me thinking about...girls.  Specifically, high school girls.  Not high school girls now.   I'm 40. That'd be creepy.  I mean, the ones I went to high school with.  I don't want to embarrass anyone by calling them out by name.  Oh, what the hell?  Who reads this fucking blog anyway?   Melissa Cote.  Tracy Bartlett.  The Hodgson sisters. Heather Richotte.  Jodi White.  Jen... Listen, basically, if you were an attractive female who attended Berlin High School between 1984 and 1988, there was a good chance I was in love with you.  There's a good chance I wrote shitty 52-page poems about you with obscure pretentious references that made no sense, and that you, (through no fault of your own, other than your being really really pretty) made my heart hurt.

I am going to do something one should never do: quote Dan Fogelberg.

There's a line in "Old Lang Syne"--y'know, that Delilah after Dark classic, which starts, "I met an old lover in a grocery store..."

I'll admit it; the fucking song tears me up.

On the off chance you haven't even found yourself listening to lite rock after midnight on a lonely V-tines Day eve horking back a burger through the tears, it goes something like this.  The narrator is hanging out in the grocery story on Christmas Eve, looking for frozen peas or some shit, when he comes across an ex-girlfriend (here called "lover" because it's Dan Fogelberg, further adding to the shame).  So they start talking, decide to go somewhere to catch up.  All the bars are closed.  It's Christmas Eve.  So they grab a six pack, sit in her car.  Her life is shit. She's married to some limp dick architect.  He has it better, because he's Dan Fucking Fogelberg, but clearly she was something special, and her absence has left a void.  Then the conversation hits a wall.  They're older, different people, not young anymore.

Here's the part that kills me:

  The beers were empty and our tongues grew tired
  and running out of things to say
  She gave a kiss to me as I got out
  and I watched her drive away
  Just for a moment I was back in school
  And felt that old familiar pain
  And as I turned to make my way back home
  the snow turned into rain...

I can still feel those nights, man.  The quiet minutes where you were fortunate enough to be left alone with her.   The school dances.  The...drop ins.  The movies. The fair.  The games or buses or parties.  Doesn't matter.  You can feel every atom on your skin tingling in anticipation...for...the something big that may happen. Really, is there anything like the desperation and urgency of a high school crush? It's all you think about, pining all hope on its coming true.  Like Bogart getting his guts kicked out when it doesn't go the way you wanted.  And does it ever?  Because nothing does.  Not the girl.  Not the life you dreamed you'd have.  None of it.

Not that it's awful.  Far from it.  It can be terrific.  But it isn't through the unfettered, optimistic eyes of your sixteen-year-old self.  It is, at best, compromised.  And you miss that pain when it's gone.

The fucked up part, I mean unless you were a senior on the football team, or one of those self-assured types (and I wasn't friends with any of those), if you were a boy, you didn't have a chance.  You might get a girlfriend from the lower grades (a two grade drop off seems about right), some pimply flat-chest, but the hot girls in your class?  Forgetaboutit.  Me?  I was a fucktard, a creep and a weirdo.  I could barely walk straight with my stupid bowl haircut, drawing my goofy pictures and talking to myself.  Melissa Cote wasn't going out with me! (although she was my first slow dance).

Oh, to be cool in high school...

It's one of the injustices of this life, getting older and finally getting your shit together.  You hit 40 and you've got some shit figured out (and if you're lucky, you've even kept your hair).  It's good to have shit figured out.  You have decent credit, own a house, have a kid, a wife, some money, investments, a grasp on your mental, financial, and spiritual well-being.  You don't fall apart when a girl doesn't respond to your note by fourth period.  You are strong, sturdy, a right on holy roller... But, man, what I wouldn't give to be a lite rock song for a night, a night where you drive with no destination in mind, summer, winter, fall, doesn't matter, it's the boys packed in the car, it's blood on blood, and you're hearing "Wish You Were Here" for the first time, everything new, bursting with possibility, because what's-her-name might be there tonight, and you don't have to be home for another four hours, and you'll feel that nervous excitement just to be near her, for the chance to talk to her, and who knows?  Maybe, just maybe, this life will turn out just the way you are dreaming it...

I guess that's why we have high school reunions and fucking Dan Fogelberg.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home