Recently I was pulled into a group on Facebook for my 15-year high school reunion. In fitting style, my graduating class can’t agree on anything. I don’t have high hopes this reunion will even happen because:
- We had a six and a half year reunion. I’m not kidding. It was seriously like that episode of Wonderfalls (if you know what I’m talking about, I adore you automatically), although I didn’t attend, so not sure how far the similarities go.
- There may or may not have been a 10-year one. No clue. I ignored the whole affair. I think the majority of people did. Apathy. That was most likely the problem. Whatever. *brushes thought aside*
The pressure is on for the 15th. So far it sounds like everyone wants to hang out and drink. It’ll be like high school all over again!
Because of Facebook, I’m already connected to dozens of my former classmates. Assumedly they all know I’m living my post-graduation prediction that I’d spend my life attempting to sell my novels to strangers.
Assumedly some of them are also living their dreams.
Or I hope so.
I started thinking about this life dreams thing the other week when I went on my massive cleaning spree and found this “senior memories” book I’d half-assedly filled out when I was 18/19.
On one of the pages was the question:
My friends will become
The first is what I thought, while the second is what they actually do.
S – biochemist (sales)
M – photographer (works in some capacity for a non-profit)
S – photographer (vet tech or similar)
J – veterinarian (works in some capacity for law enforcement)
I was surprised that I didn’t remember my friends ever wanting to be these things. I guess because when you’re a teen, “real life” and everything that comes with it, just doesn’t compute. You’re so in-the-moment and life just stretches on and on endlessly. Anything is possible.
Then one day, it’s all “hello, adulthood” and your dreams change (or evolve or whatever) due to reality.
Some of them anyway.
Others (like writing for me) continue to cling, even though I am firmly in the land of adult – a job, rent to pay, a husband…
Although, I must admit that I still don’t always fully feel like an adult. I did when I worked 9-5, M-F, in an office. But since I’ve been contracting the past few years (flexible hours), it’s like I have the best of both worlds: money to live on AND freedom.
And it’s a great feeling.