One of my good friends, who I happened to meet in high school, reminded me that there’d be some sort of reunion this year, and I thought to myself, “Whoa, has it already been five years?” (thinking that the default span between reunions) and then realized “Zomg! It’s been ten years since I graduated from high school.” Ten years never felt more minuscule than just now.

For most people that equates to four years of college and six years of life, and probably a good start on marriage, mortgage, and babies. I, on the other hand, extended my time at school by an additional three years, two in grad school, and one in what I refer to as “post-grad school” practically everything was the same (apartment, job, friends)—I just wasn’t going to classes. I’ve only recently felt on my own—after almost three years in California.

My feelings about high school are decidedly mixed (to put it mildly), but I wouldn’t want to be left out of the awkwardnessfest that is trying to remember the names of people I haven’t laid eyes on in ten years! And as Stephanie added, “Maybe we could parlay this into a trip down to Schlitterbahn.” I’m sure my parents would love to see me. I hope it’s not while we’re in France.

Update: I went.