Twenty ‘kin years….

It’s my high school reunion tonight.  Twenty years since we left the not so hallowed halls of San Sisto Ladies College in 1988.  Yes.  😐  A private Catholic Girls school…. and nothing quite dates you like a high school reunion.  It also marks the exact 20 year (to the day) anniversary of our high school formal which was apparently a coincidence.  I being the strange little anal retentive nutter than I am was the one to point this out.  In my defense the only reason that I remembered our school formal was on 16th August is because it also happens to be the day that Elvis karked it in 1977…. whatever.

I was looking forward to going and I had hoped to be able to do my best Joan Cusack impression when I got home:  Marcella: Yes, I went. It was just as if everyone had swelled.

But I’ve been struck down with the dreaded lurgi and am unable to attend.  Thinking about about my high school years brings up mostly apathy from me.  I wasn’t the most popular kid in school (we never had enough money for running with the ‘in’ crowd) but I certainly wasn’t disliked.  I was a bit of a floater….  I used to frequently have lunch with different groups of kids depending on who I felt like speaking to that day.  I was friendly with the athletic kids because I was pretty good at sports.  I also used to hang with the art kids cos I was pretty good at that too.  I never really hung out with the smart kids – I never bothered working work hard enough at school to fit in there.  I was just the sort of girl who would talk to everyone had lunch with whomever on any given day and got along with everyone.

I didn’t really identify with any of the cliques and really didn’t go out of my way to fit in with them – quite the opposite in fact.  I remember on free clothes days (uniforms being de rigeur in Australian schools) where the ‘in’ kids frequently turned up in all their designer duds (Jag, Country Road and Stuart Membrey being the designers of choice in the late 80s in suburban Brisbane) and I would turn up in a denim miniskirt, studded belt and a black singlet top with “Jim Beam” splashed across the bust.  In my free time I was in the army cadets and hung out with boys who were into cars and guns…. so no I didn’t really try to fit in.  I was also not a fan of Michael Jackson, Duran Duran or Boy George so strike two on that count as well. 

I think from a very young age I’ve had a ‘this is me and if you don’t like it … fuck off’ sort of attitude.  I’m not sure where that came from?!?!  I’ve never been one to curry favour for some reason and mostly no one had anything bad to say about me (well not to my face after that time I rounded up on one chick for speaking out of turn about me).  I got in trouble a few times for wagging school to hang out with Edourardo on his RDOs but mostly I paid attention in class got fair grades in the 70-80% range with minimum effort and just floated through high school.

So the reunion?  Yes I was curious to see what the years might have brought everyone.  See who was skiting about their fabulous lives and see whether some people had changed.  But looking through an old school group photo… I didn’t see any faces that I missed having in my life these 20 years…

Looking at this photo reminded me of things….  Mr G the faggotty English teacher who was litterally hounded out of class by our laughter when he turned up to work with peach coloured trousers and sporting a new perm.  Mrs V the tyranical Vice Principal who seemed to ALWAYS catch me out when I wagged school (I swear that woman really did have eyes in the back of her head).  Sarah F who got up the duff months after finishing senior.  Rebecca P who used to skive out of swimming with girlie troubles every fucking week.  Katrina H who burst into tears when I got better marks than her for a book report on a book I never read.  Colleen M whose mother used to drop the two of us to the local pub on her way to work night shifts as a nurse (we were fifteen … eejit woman).  Linda B whose mother was killed in a car accident on the Cav Rd and Nursery Rd intersection when we were in Grade 10.  Kylie C who got suspened for getting a lopsided punk hairdo.  Catia B who demanded a recount when I beat her in a vote for House Captain.  Katie S who was disowned by her family for anouncing she was a lesbian (and who subsequently suicided in 1991).  Cassy B who I saw in the mid 90s in skimpy gear promoting Strongbow Cider at Fisherman’s Wharf.  Angela M who used to complain about her $20 a week pocket allowance (my family’s mortgage payments in the mid 80s were $90/month).   Celia T who talked about nothing but Bon Jovi for a year and a half.  Julie B who missed a year of school with agoraphobia.  Melissa S who had arthritis since she was kid.  Shannon M who was the snobbiest bitch of a thing in the whole class and who I understand is largely unchanged.

Nope.  I can honestly say I don’t miss any of them.
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