In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Extreme Tale.”
When has the quote“ It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” applied to my crazy life specifically? That is a tall order to ask. I tend to envision myself as a glass half full (or a why do people ask unanswerable questions) kind of person. I make a conscious effort to remember the good times, and try to forget about the times that were tough, or markedly regrettable. However, among all the time periods of my short, and rather tumultuous lifetime, one specific span stands out. High School.
Yes, I said high school. And for those of you who have checked out, and are ready to click back to a site containing less teenage angst, let me assure you, my post will not be focused on the inevitable sorrow that comes with most adolescent stories. I now look back upon my years of schooling, and have decided that they really were not so bad after all. I have had to suck up my pride and admit that maybe (I said maybe, I am not ready for complete admission yet) my parents knew a thing or two about this whole adulthood situation. I could tell you woeful tales filled with the wonderments of endless homework for AP classes, and the stress of college applications. I could waste your time with anecdotes of social unrest, and failed romance. Or even spin tales of top quality family drama reserved especially for primetime network television. All of these stories would be uninformative, because all in all, I had life pretty good, and most peoples high school stories are quite akin to my own. So for that reason, I can skip the worst of times, and get right to the good stuff.
I now reminisce on my days of schooling, and wonder at how marvelous they really were. First and foremost because the only bills I had to pay in high school were for the the gas in my Jeep, my ticket to the prom, and the piles of food my buddies and I consumed constantly. Being a fiscally responsible member of society proves not to be as freeing as I thought that it would. And secondly, high school is the last time I was able to be a kid, and just have fun. My friends were only ever a “bathroom break”, and I could “chill” with them almost constantly. I was able to perform in a competition show choir, which is an opportunity only afforded to most people during high school (I got to dress up as Flynn Ryder from Disney’s Tangled, and if thats not epic, I don’t know what is). There were entire weeks that were essentially duplicate halloweens just to celebrate homecoming, or the end of a semester. I was woken up at 4 am and “kidnapped” by beautiful girls and taken out to breakfast before school (the catch you may ask: I had to wear a Mickey Mouse costume that consisted of black tights, red cheerleading shorts and red suspenders to school all day). My friends and I could spend entire weekends, week after week, sitting by the lake, fishing and drinking sweet tea. I could stand under those proverbial friday night lights, and be a hero for two hours. High school was the time period where anything was possible, and I was invincible.
Now, I am not so invincible, and I have duties,and responsibilities. Do I hate being an adult? No! Would I want to go back to high school? Definitely not. But high school was a time in my life where mistakes were encouraged, and exploration was praised. Maybe the lesson in all of this is that as we grow up, we make life too serious. I say we all do something crazy,and spontaneous every once in a while. It makes that whole responsibility thing way easier to deal with.