Or why my plots always have a dark element in them.
My high school class just had its nth reunion. Big whoops. It brought back a whole flood of unpleasant memories. Unfortunately enough of the information leaked into my social media that I could not escape it.
I hated the place and could not wait to get out. University (Go Nittany Lions!) was a revelation and a blast. It was so nice to be evaluated on performance and not social niceties. I may have been an odd duck, but an odd duck who could read your paper in poli-sci (not my major) and help you get an A was an accepted odd duck.
My blues started when someone posted “Let’s party like it’s <some year> again!”
Yeah, right. I didn’t party then, being the fat unpopular kid. Why would I ever want to relive that?
I didn’t want to block the unending stream of pictures from social events and friends that weren’t. I should have.
I’ve gone out and done something with my life. There are people alive because of my real-world research. Better than selling f****ing cars, any day by any rational measure.
