They used to be heroes.

I went to a thing tonight. Actually, let me back up. I began this morning with an Aleve at 730. If you don't know why, you were not meant to. I was in and out of sleep til about 10 when i thought to myself, wait til becky leaves and then get showered. It isn't good to get in that woman's way when she's busy. And she was. So I showered up, had class. 12-120. The soup kitchen thing was from 2-330. I came back, we ate. My mountain dew is flat. absolutely dead. thought i'd share. it went down the drain without a hiss. I had this thing. It was a Canadian consul at a house in Princeton thing where the office also is. The driveway was so long they needed escorts with flashlights. $75 bucks for three hours of being only kinda chilly and we even got a chance to try the chocolate fountain. It was amazing. Anyway, on the treck back down the driveway I remembered I had this thing tonight. I had to sit at a table for Women's Center and it was this get together for people who support Fair Trade. Thing. It was a bit of a coffeehouse of sorts. Bands played and people sang.
It reminded me of high school. The lock-ins where the cute boys (or not) would play their geetars. I'll tell you one thing; if they had long hair, it was gorgeous. I'm pretty sure Becky will agree that Roman had really amazing hair. There was the head of this one dude in my line of sight and it reminded me of the head of this other dude I used to know. The dude had a ponytail and his hair was parted. I still know him. He was a bit rude and at times crude but he had a head of hair. And he played. And he thought/still thinks he's hot stuff. I haven't seen him play since approx. sophomore year but boy did I have a crush on this terribly horribly mean rotten dude. Anyway, the dude who's head I had to look through in order to see whoever was playing, his head looked just like this other dude's. Becky knows the dude. And so does Frank. Frank is the one who I credit with having rescued me from this dude.
Other evidence it was straight off the visual memories of a lock-in:
Right up there with Zuttoli (*spelling) on bass and Flatley on drums, it was a band from Old Bridge. Amazing. No Becky, Mark didn't say hi. But I didn't expect him to. It was the same with people at the lock-in. You had the people who were trying to forget you and the people who never wanted to be away from your side. Shana and Mark fit in the first category, and this kid Eric from my sociology class last semester was in the second. I remember him telling me Zeppelin sucked because they were over-sexed. I maintain that was one or both of the following a) a terrible reason, b)a reason created out of jealousy. Regardless, he makes eye-contact with me all the time and makes a point of saying hey. Clearly a member of the second group.
Further evidence:
Angry music. Angry, frustrated, tragic sounding, screaming almost lacking purpose i mean it was obvious they were singing...if you want to call it that...about how Bush sucks some way or another but I was surrounded by angry sound that was too loud for our ears to comprehend. They didn't match either. I mean it was long hair and beards and I mean maybe they're old enough now to have considerably thick beards if they choose to and that's maybe not something that was easy for them in high school. You had beat up Chucks (the shoe not the person) and blond streaks in dark dark hair; checkered black and white patterns and rusty brown colors mixed with greens. The thing is, I saw the good looking, heavily endowed girl trying to get the attention of a certain 'activist' and that was totally the case at the lock-in. You had the girl who was friends with all the guys, and she'd bop around from cluster to cluster...just like in high school. Everyone seemed to know everyone and I don't know how. I mean, I do know how. They're all angry about something. I'm not as angry as they are. I think that's why Shana gave me a look because she knows I don't belong there. Tonight, little of me, my 'self', was challenged in a threatening way. I felt like a sponge in a way; a sponge in a good sized puddle with so much water surrounding me that I could only take in so much, and then the rest of it that wasn't absorbed would just exist around me. I took in all of the personalities and the fights and raised fists that were co-existing in the room and here it all is. It is convoluted but it is high school. it was the people who were once cool. The ones who didn't end up playing volleyball or watching the movies or hangin out by the dance floor or the cafeteria at the lock-in. It was the bandaids and the screaming moshing angry people who are the protesters of today. I used to idolize them. I still envy them to a certain extent, but it's cozy at times in the middle. Arguing with Nate and not seeing eye-to-eye with the ponytail dude in the previous paragraph makes me somewhere in between and I really think i'll be here for the rest of my life.

Note: Nate, I'm sorry but a lock-in, just in case you don't know, is something a high school would have for it's students. They'd lock the doors and have lots of activities inside 'til about 1 in the morning. They'd feed you, and you could dance, play different court sports, do weird stuff like climb a rock wall, they had movies sometimes, and then there were the live bands. The auditorium had the behind the scenes people who are excited at the chance of doing sound checks, and the band dudes who were pissed at the world but accepted any and all female bras that would go flying through the air. actually I only witnessed that once, and it was Katie's bra thrown at Roman. Apparently she wanted to have his baby?? I dunno. But yea that was lock-ins for me. You didn't miss much. Regardless of how involved that all sounds.

I'm sorry this post is so awfully long. And it goes along quite awfully. But I had it all in my head and I had to get it out. It was clogging the plumbing.