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You have made it all the way here, so you may as well sit down, take a minute to look around, and enjoy. What you will find, depends on the day and my mood. You just never can tell.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Reunions and the Past Revisited - Last in the Series of Moments that Shape.

The timing of this post is kinda funny to me.  My high school reunion (I’m not mentioning how many years, just cause) was this past weekend.  I intended to go.  No sure why, but I thought it would be entertaining.  Then the time came up and I kept putting off RSVP’ing and paying.  Then the day was here and I hesitated and balked, and in the end didn’t go.  Today I went online and saw many photos of everyone that had attended and realized something, I could not figure out who ¾ of the people were.  They are not in my current circle.  They don’t talk to me.  They don’t support me or I them in anyway.  Why did I want to go and spend some of my coveted free moments with them?  The answer…apparently I didn’t. 

So onward with my life lessons and shaping moments, maybe you will understand why I am a bit ambivalent about the whole reunion thing.  Maybe you wont. 

When I was in the 6th grade, I was told we would be moving, yet again.  Where this time?  How far away?  In this case, FAR.  So I would have to say goodbye to my friends, the small amount that I had gathered, yet again.  I was ticked.  I don’t deny it.  I was that 12-year-old hell on wheels, when I was informed of this change.  I pouted.  I was mean.  I was quiet.  I made the lives of my parents hell, just because I didn’t like their choice.  I was a typical pre-teen. 

We moved to Sunbury, Ohio.  From inner-city to a po-dunk farm town, this was a culture shock for me.  I went from being first/second flute in the band, to not having first or second anything.  It was just a flute section.  I went from struggling to keep up in math to being so far ahead that I was bored.  I went from finally have a small group of friends, to having nothing, and no one but a sister who hated me, and a brother too young to understand.  It was not a great time in my life. I think my graduation class was under 100 kids.  Yes, that small.

Then you had the whole small town mentality.  First, if you didn’t eat, sleep, and breathe football, you were not in the accepted group.  I didn’t give a rats patootey about football.  I was a girl.  Second, if you weren’t conceived there in that little town, you would forever be known as the new girl.  I think when I graduated from that high school, they called out, The New Girl, Courtney Rene (just kidding, a little sarcasm there, but they may as well have).  So to say I didn’t fit in was the understatement of the century.  I tried.  Lord, did I try.  It just never really worked out.  It’s not that I didn’t have people who liked me.  It was that I didn’t have any real, close, friends.  I went several years like that. 

Of course since I was completely miserable there, we stayed.  My parents never moved again.  Talk about, it figures.  Finally when I wanted to move, we didn’t.  Then middle school and high school hit.  Let me paint a little picture for you.  At 18 I weighed in at 95 pounds soaking wet.  So, yeah, skinny.  Not thin, skinny.  I worked almost full time, went to school, and took part in the Flag Corp.  I was introverted like you wouldn’t believe.  My nickname from the girls in the flags was, Hermit.  I spent my time in class reading books under my desk.  If there happened to be a boy that I thought was cute, I made sure to never ever look at him for fear that he would talk to me.  EEEK!  I was teased within the halls, called stupid names, or groups would suddenly laugh hysterically when I walked by.  It was not the best time in my life.  I hated those years.  I hated most everyone there, whether in my grade or above or below.  Oh, I smiled when necessary and most everyone would be shocked at how very much I loathed them all.  They were mean, they were clicky, and they were horrid to me.  Yeah, I hated them.  My sister was the ringleader at some of these haunting moments of my life.  I could go on and on, but you get the picture. 

Then, at about 16, I stopped caring.  It was like I woke up one day and took a good look at me and realized, I was part of the problem.  The big part.  I am very good at internal research. I was honest with myself and realized it wasn’t my hair or my clothes or my house.  It was me, and the waves of hate and depression I emanated like perfume.  Once I stopped caring about what they thought or didn’t think of me, I was quite a bit happier with myself and my life.  Not overnight.  I don’t blame the kids I went to school with.  They were just kids, like me, trying to get through a rough section of time. 

How did this help me as a writer?  How did this shape me?  Those years were very good for me it turns out.  The darkness I was fighting within myself, manifested into great and dark stories.  One dark enough to garner the attention of my writing teacher and then a meeting with my parents.  Oopsy.  It’s funny now, but not so much, at the time.  Trying to explain to adults that my stories were FICTION didn’t go over all that well.  I even had to have a meeting with a pastor regarding my suicidal thoughts.  Ha!  Oh my. 

I learned something that day though.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I know it now as an adult and progressing writer.  If you are going to get to the reader; if they are going to feel what you are feeling; you have to put yourself into the event you are writing.  Really stick yourself into the feelings and emotions and write from that place.  That gets peoples attention.  That makes a good story.  Would I have learned that without the suffering of adolescence?  Doubtful. 

So back to my reunion.  Did I not go because I still have ill will towards them?  Nope.  I wish every one of them happiness and prosperity in life.  I just didn’t care enough about any of them, to take time away from the ones I love most to see them.  The photos were fun.  Just silliness of strangers, but fun to see nonetheless.  They didn’t miss me.  They don’t know me, the same I didn’t miss them and don’t know them.  That’s what growing up is all about.  Finding out who you are, not what you think you are. 

What will I write about next week?  I don’t know.  This pretty much ends my section on events that shaped me into a writer.  I will have to think up another series though.  I had fun traveling down memory lane. 







8 comments:

  1. Courtney, this series has been very interesting. It has sparked many memories of my life as a child..one who lived from one military base to another, one state to another, one foreign country to another. One of your posts initiated a similar post on my blog, how my life as a military brat made me become a "child secret writer," and how that probably
    shaped my interest in writing from then on.

    I too was always the outsider. Military life can make a real snob of you, also, because in those days ( probably not so much today), children of officers, as I was, were not allowed to play with children of ranks lower than our fathers. It taught a lesson, but not a very pleasant one.

    Best of luck with all your books!
    Mikki

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    1. Thank you, Mikki for stopping by. I will have to check out your post. Although I am familiar with the Military life and the ranking system, I was thankfully never subjected to it. My dad finished up his service before us kids came into the picture. The stories I heard though, I believe it.

      ctny

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  2. Life is so full of ups and downs. It's hard to realize at the time when we are hurting most, exactly why it's happening to us but things always happen for a reason I'm sorry your childhood was so sucky but look what all those experiences have done for you now! You've got all kinds of deep down and dark things to write about!

    Class reunions are really hard when you don't keep in touch with people. My 20th felt so weird because although I remembered almost everyone, I felt so strange and out of place. I really was miserable. However shortly after that, Facebook happened and now I talk to a lot of my old classmates through that. So my next class reunion was so much betterment but I still felt a bit strange.

    I know you don't feel the same, but I really enjoy talking to my old classmates and many of them have really supported me with my writing.

    Anyway I really enjoyed this segment of your blog and feel like I know Courtney just a little better! And your stupid stuck up classmates back then really missed out on getting to know a wonderful person. And an even better author!

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    1. Thanks Allyn for stopping by. My teen years sucked, but I think just about every ones does in some way or another. It just took me longer to figure that out. You I think were one of those lucky ones that actually liked H.S. I wish I could say the same.

      I'm so glad you enjoyed this series. It was fun and gave me something I could get into. I hope I can find something as entertaining to do again.

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  3. I have never been to one of my high school reunions. I never liked school and I don't want to do anything to bring back those unpleasant memories.

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    1. Is this a writer thing? Are we all just such introverts by the time we get to high school that is sucks so bad we can't imagine going back or reliving it?

      Thanks for stopping over Ruth.

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  4. i'm finally caught up on this series... wowwie zowwie! yeah, moving around doesn't help. (nor does changing accents! blaaah!) i would never go to a reunion, and i'm beginning to think that yeah, maybe it is a writer thing. i don't even go to the end of summer street party they hold here every year, and i barely make it to the in-laws. ;) fantastic series, Courtney.

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    1. Thank you! I had fun writing it. After all the comments and emails I have received on this, I have decided its a writer thing. So we are normal as to writers. It may be the only normal we have so I intend to hold tight to that little bit.

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