Today’s Prompt: I want you to think about someone that you went to high school with. It should be someone you’d say “hi” to in the halls, but not the person with whom you shared your darkest secrets. Or any body parts. Write about what that person might be like today. Construct a family or a lack of family. A job. A house, or maybe she’s living under a bridge. Start with your memories of that person (which will be shaded by how you felt about them), but let your imagination fill in the blanks.
This one is tricky, since due to the beauty of Facebook (okay, so maybe "beauty" isn't the exact right noun to use here), I already know what most people I went to high school with are doing. Even the ones I just said hi to in the halls. (Although did I really say hi to that many people in the halls? No. I picture myself walking with my head down, just surviving the walk to the next room. Although that is probably dramatic. And I probably said hi at times.) If there are people I'm not friends with on Facebook, it's because 1) your political/societal messages have pissed me off and I've unfriended you or I've yelled at you/your friends about your political/societal messages and you unfriended me; 2) I don't remember your name or your face.
That said, there are people who I'm friends with who I still don't KNOW. I mean, I don't really KNOW any of them, any more. But the ones who don't post pictures or don't post statuses regularly, I really don't know. So. I am Facebook Friends with the person that immediately for some reason sprang to mind when I read this prompt, so I know the tiniest bit about him, as he is as an adult person now, but I still wanted to write about him more than anyone and I don't know why but there it is. So due to the Facebook Friending, there is the tiniest possibility that he could read this, which would be embarrassing, but I feel like the chances are slim. He is not the type to really troll Facebook.
It wouldn't be embarrassing because I had a crush on him or something, which I never did. We sat at the same table in our creative writing class, and he was one of those kids who was always Different. Always slightly off, slightly strange; we were both Different but different kinds of Different, but because I knew in my heart we were both Different I developed some kind of kinship with him, at least in my head. We read each other's journal prompts all year, and I feel like we had this mutual respect of each other, like we sort of knew that we each felt we were smarter than most of the people around us, like we could both call out the bullshit, but we were still kind of amused at all the people around us, anyway. He had this face like he was stoned all the time, and people used to tell me they thought I was stoned all the time, too, even though I never was, so, there was that.
He was a good guy, which I didn't really know until that creative writing class, but then I knew it for sure.
Today, he's still in the area, but closer to Philly. There are a lot of people like that--people who are still in PA, but who have slowly inched their way closer to Philly. I mean, there's New York and there's Philly, if you don't crawl your way to one or the other from my hometown, I don't really understand you. Regardless. The only thing I know for sure is that he is really active in protesting against some environmental bullshit, and all the power to him for that. Because there is a lot of environmental bullshit.
But what do you do for a job, huh, when you're not protesting? What do you do in your everyday life? I don't know.
In high school, I think your older brother was into sound engineering, and you were going to go into that, too. I just remembered--we used to switch headphones, too, while we wrote our journal entries, or at least I remember you having me to listen to your music; I can't imagine making you listen to mine since it was just lots of Counting Crows and Tori Amos and Radiohead. Although I think you liked Tori Amos. You were one of those guys who liked Tori Amos. Anyway, I think you listened to a lot of industrial stuff that I probably would've never listened to otherwise but I pretended like I could while I listened to it.
So I imagine you doing that. I remember you saying that you didn't want to go to college, which was one of the ways you were Different, because saying you're not going to college when you're in high school is like saying you're planning on getting addicted to crack and having ten babies by the time you're 25. People give you the same looks. But you said you had no need to go to college to learn skills you could just learn from your brother.
You might, of course, be working in an office somewhere, although I really highly doubt that. But you might be doing something boring. But instead I'll imagine you in a sound booth, sitting in front of those boards full of endless levers and dials, big ass black headphones on your still thin, wimpy-ish blonde hair, still looking like you're stoned out of your head.
I imagine you have a girlfriend who is really cool. Like really nice and down to earth, pretty, someone I would like. I imagine you have beers together and have thoughtful conversations together about things. I imagine you go to lots of loud concerts but are overall still a pretty quiet person, outside and inside. Which is good. We need quiet people just as much as we need loud people.
I hope you're happy, and that life is treating you well. I probably didn't get into as much detail about your life as I was supposed to, and half of my memories about our creative writing class are probably made-up, too. But I think you'd be cool with that.