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Ten-Year Reunion Week, part the second
OK, so not much of a "theme week" with just two posts -- sorry about that, dear readers. I tried to write a few things about how I've changed over the last decade, but nothing was really working. I mean, does anyone really care that, for example, I listen to a lot less Ani DiFranco these days? I don't even care about that.
And what I kept coming back to while trying to write was this: I've been obsessed with the fear that all the people I went to college with ten years ago will see me this weekend and notice only the external differences -- the unsatisfying haircut, the weight I've gained, the wrinkles -- and never discover how I've really changed since 1992.
I'm still, I guess, fundamentally the same person I always was: sarcastic, political, godless, funny. But ten years ago, I kept score, I held grudges, I exacted revenge. I wanted to believe I was the latest incarnation of Dorothy Parker, the sort of witty dame who's a riot at parties but who keeps a withering quip at the ready to chasten anyone who wounds her. To my considerable glee, several of my friends told me, "I'd hate to be on your bad side." Even with my closest friends, I memorized their weak spots just in case I needed the information later.
My emotional bank account back then was like the NASDAQ in the boom years -- I had feelings to burn, and I spent them lavishly. I rewarded my loved ones with utter devotion and punished my enemies with ruthless abandon. Then came the bust. I got my heart smashed to pieces, and for almost three years I felt nothing at all.
I threw myself into political activism and (stop reading, Mom) casual sex because the accompanying adrenaline rush was the only emotion I could muster. As my capacity to feel slowly came back, I could no longer shout in people's faces at protests or flame my nights away on discussion boards. I just couldn't see the point of being the mean girl anymore.
I still don't let people treat me like shit, but I don't go out of my way to be vicious these days. And I'm more proud of that than of being the chick with the scary "bad side."
I know the fun part of reunions is to snicker that "Kevin got fat" or "Kim got pregnant." But I'm hoping that someone, after this weekend, might say "Amy got nice."
Replies: 5 Confessions
I hope so, too, Amy. I think you've done a damn fine job at getting nice while still managing to stay funny, which I find admirable. Now if you could just lay off poor Jenna Bush. I shudder to think what my life would be like if people punished me in proportion to how much of an asshole my dad was.
elavil @ 10/18/2002 03:19 PM CST
Clare Booth Luce and Dorothy Parker after negotiating who should go through a revolving door first, Dorothy Parker ends up going first.
CBL: Age before beauty.
DP: Pearls before swine.
matthew @ 10/19/2002 07:24 AM CST
I know this isn't your fault, but do you know spammers are violating the sanctity of the confessional by grabbing email addresses from here?
matthew @ 10/20/2002 06:50 AM CST
Wow! Amy became really nice!
It was a blast hanging out with you, and I love the site.
michelle @ 10/20/2002 06:02 PM CST
Awww, thanks, Michelle! Hey, don't forget to check out the picture of you dancing on the bar!
amyc @ 10/21/2002 08:03 PM CST