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Metamucil... check
Crunchy peanut butter, Nutella and banana sandwich... check
Remote control... check
200 Thread count cotton poly blend sheets... check

And so goes the end of another day in the life of a 43 year old, putting every fiber of his being up on the internet for the world to view, most surely in disbelief.  When I look back at what's almost two years in January that I've been doing this blog, I am able to see where I was and where I am now, sometimes the same exact spot.  Fortunately, there are plenty of 'mile markers' (and you thought I pulled the blog name out of my ass) in life to keep you in check and provide a countdown as well.  Birthdays are the biggest bitch... and I'm sure, if I had kids (thanks to the baby Jesus that I don't), watching their birthdays would be even worse, let alone their graduations, weddings (etc., etc.). Another interesting, and probably most unnerving, reminder that your days are numbered on this earth is a little thing called 'the high school reunion'.  I don't know what sick, demented person thought this situation up, but they need to be the target of a line of dodge ball throwers... or need their head stuck in a toilet at recess again.

Next Saturday is my 25th high school reunion.  I went to the 5th one way back when, but didn't attend any of the other ones though.  Thanks to Facebook, I talk to more people from high school now than when I was in high school, which is kind of funny when someone friends you now that didn't even know you were alive then, except to make your life a living hell.  My high school made Beverly Hills 90210 look like an afternoon in Romper Room, with it's clicks and overload of suburban snootiness.  If you weren't a cheerleader, football player or, believe it or not, in the band... you weren't anyone.  So my being President of the choir held about as much weight as the rickety AV cart on social studies documentary watching Thursdays.  You had to be a member of the 'in crowd'.  It was pointedly clear that I was not.

In my twelve year tenure, I am able to come up with a few good memories... I remember one of the first Earth Days in the early seventies... I remember singing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial at District Chorus... I remember hitting Laura Pace in the back of the head with a chalkboard eraser (and it left a chalk mark) and, subsequently, getting paddled for that... and I remember that ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny, but don't ask me what it means at this point.  Then there are the moments that are burned into your mind, never to be forgotten... outside of my elementary school, there was this really cool jungle jim kind of structure made of railroad ties that we used to climb on.  It was on that structure that I first handled Rhonda Tusinski's left hootie.  In Pittsburgh, the public broadcasting station does a series called something like 'things that used to be'... and they'll talk about old buildings or trolleys and the like.... well, the structure is gone.... my fascination for girl's titties is gone... and, sadly, so is Rhonda... she suffered an aneurysm a few years out of school.  Forever gone is any proof of a young boy's supposedly greatest moment happening (aside from learning masturbation).

I think the movie Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion embodies the phenomena the most, enveloping all the anxiety that we go through... do we still look good, did we succeed, will this person still like me, do we make enough money, did we live up to our 'most likely to..." tagline... which spurs a whole slew of pre-reunion adjustments... crash diet, get a great outfit, tan, get a new job, rent a fancy car to pull up in.  It's all so ridiculous.  Not only were we judged for 12 years about our class and extra-curricular choices, clothing, hair, car, friends, girl/boyfriends, etc... we are also faced with the same thing so many years later, like any of that matters.  Sadly, your reputation throughout school is the most important thing, and can haunt you for the rest of your life.  Take for example the kid that stuck his wiener in a vacuum cleaner and earned the name "Hoover"... and the kid who supposedly stuck his wiener in his tabby cat and everywhere he went, all you heard were cat screeches...and you always knew when he was coming down the hall.  Those are things that stick with you.  Choices are paramount.  Reputation is monumental.  And the lesson is be careful where you stick your wiener.  My choice to be friends with a few people and my involvement in chorus forever labled me a gaybird... turns out they were spot on about that.  But let you be you because of you, not because of someone else defining you.

I've made some choices in my life that, if given the chance to do over, I would.  But I can honestly say that, at the time, they were the best solution to a problem... and I acted responsibly and kindly and don't regret any of it.  I feel very successful in my life, and although I started out my career trying to climb the corporate ladder, I am so much more happy for the path that I currently am on, both in accomplishment and the person that I have become.  I don't feel the need to go there and be anyone other than who I am.  I am lucky I feel that way.  I'm sure some are very nervous right about now. 

Incidentally, the theory of ontogeny recapitulating phylogeny is best described in that the embryonal development of an individual organism (its ontogeny) follows the same path as the evolutionary history of its species (its phylogeny).  In other words, we can all rest assured that future generations will be going through the same angst over all this crap.  Take comfort in that.