from the book of Tyler
Everyone say hello to Tyler. Tyler has not only revealed to me that a) it's enviable that he gets to take pictures from the cockpit of whatever zoom-zoom he's flying and b) he's not ~exactly~ the arrogant meanie I thought he was (though he did chastise me for not sewing my kids' Halloween Costumes and threatened to disown me if they came from WalMart) but he's a pretty keen writer, too.
Apparently, a couple of weeks after I wrote up the story of my really sad party experience, Tyler was passing through town and decided to go check out the junior high and high schools he went to, something I have decided I am WAY not brave enough to do (yet?) Tyler - thank you for letting me excerpt this.
~H.
Now I totally agree with you, Jr. High is a really tough age. Kids can be really really mean there. Everything "important" at that point is SO new and the hormones are exploding... makes for a few crazy years.
So I'm walking slowly through the school, marveling at how small everything looks. Our class photo from 1986-87 is still up on the wall! 20 years? Holy crap. Then the bell rings and I just kinda stand to one side and watch the kids for the next 10 minutes.
As all these kids go parading by on thier way to LA or gym or band, in groups or in pairs or alone, eyes glowing with excitement or laughter, or distant in pain or even scared. Watching them I could remember (like REALLY remember) being each and every one of them while there in that school. Two boys tearing down the hallways at a flat out run, dodging the other kids hollering and laughing at each other... yup, there's D and I. One girl walking alone, staring at her feet and you can almost feel her discomfort in her own skin... yup, been there too.
I wouldn't want to do it over again, but I think there were more good times then bad. At least that's how I remember it. And what I remember is how intense EVERYTHING felt. Both the joy and the pain. I hope you remember some intense joy from those years along with the hell.
What I am discovering is that the hell kind of eclipsed the heavenly bits. The deeper I dig and the more skeletons I confront, little glimmering bits are catching my attention: going on a band trip in grade 8 and sneaking into one of the boys' rooms to eat pizza and watch movies; sitting at a friend's house getting ready to go bowling while she burped the alphabet and rumbled farts agaisnt the tub and then getting kicked out for overhand bowling; sneaking into the Bronx and having to walk home in sock feet because I lost my Fluevogs in the mosh pit; camping out at HUB to buy Depeche Mode tickets, then driving to Calgary and laughing so hard at the snoring auntie that one of the girls peed on the carpet; watching INXS videos over and over and over again during lunch hour...
There aren't as many as I might wish for, but those happy memories are getting polished to a brilliant shine. And I'm loving every minute of it. Sage words, Tyler. Writers' block, schmiters' block - I still think this might be your next career...
Apparently, a couple of weeks after I wrote up the story of my really sad party experience, Tyler was passing through town and decided to go check out the junior high and high schools he went to, something I have decided I am WAY not brave enough to do (yet?) Tyler - thank you for letting me excerpt this.
~H.
Now I totally agree with you, Jr. High is a really tough age. Kids can be really really mean there. Everything "important" at that point is SO new and the hormones are exploding... makes for a few crazy years.
So I'm walking slowly through the school, marveling at how small everything looks. Our class photo from 1986-87 is still up on the wall! 20 years? Holy crap. Then the bell rings and I just kinda stand to one side and watch the kids for the next 10 minutes.
As all these kids go parading by on thier way to LA or gym or band, in groups or in pairs or alone, eyes glowing with excitement or laughter, or distant in pain or even scared. Watching them I could remember (like REALLY remember) being each and every one of them while there in that school. Two boys tearing down the hallways at a flat out run, dodging the other kids hollering and laughing at each other... yup, there's D and I. One girl walking alone, staring at her feet and you can almost feel her discomfort in her own skin... yup, been there too.
I wouldn't want to do it over again, but I think there were more good times then bad. At least that's how I remember it. And what I remember is how intense EVERYTHING felt. Both the joy and the pain. I hope you remember some intense joy from those years along with the hell.
What I am discovering is that the hell kind of eclipsed the heavenly bits. The deeper I dig and the more skeletons I confront, little glimmering bits are catching my attention: going on a band trip in grade 8 and sneaking into one of the boys' rooms to eat pizza and watch movies; sitting at a friend's house getting ready to go bowling while she burped the alphabet and rumbled farts agaisnt the tub and then getting kicked out for overhand bowling; sneaking into the Bronx and having to walk home in sock feet because I lost my Fluevogs in the mosh pit; camping out at HUB to buy Depeche Mode tickets, then driving to Calgary and laughing so hard at the snoring auntie that one of the girls peed on the carpet; watching INXS videos over and over and over again during lunch hour...
There aren't as many as I might wish for, but those happy memories are getting polished to a brilliant shine. And I'm loving every minute of it. Sage words, Tyler. Writers' block, schmiters' block - I still think this might be your next career...
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