I'm actually glad I missed her call, for a number of reasons. First of all, it's disconcerting to realize that it's been ten years since I was a sophomore in high school. Ten freaking years! It's mind boggling, to think of all I've done since then. It's even worse to think about all the stuff I haven't done.

Which brings me to the other reason I'm glad I was working last night. I have vague memories of this time capsule assignment. I think we all filled out a questionnaire about what we thought we might be doing, in that far-off new millenium. But I have no idea at all what I said. That was back before I let myself turn into a slacker bum, after all.

I think I wanted to be a teacher. I might have said Writer. I was pretty heavily into the school newspaper, so I might have said I wanted to be a journalist. Now, understand, I do have very valid reasons for not following up on any of those. ( Uh-oh. Here it comes. Welcome to RationalizationLand! Please place your seats in an upright position before we begin landing...)

OK. I've already gone over why I'm not a writer, numerous times. I'll spare you that tirade today.

When I got to college, I made an important realization. I didn't want to teach people who didn't give a damn. I honestly love literature, and I don't think I could stand being forced to shove Shakespeare down the throat of someone who didn't want to learn it. It would bother me intensely to be surrounded by people who read things, not because they really wanted to, but because I told them they had to do it.

I'm also quite irrationally fond of proper grammar and spelling. People who can't be bothered to understand the basic mechanics of the English language really frustrate me.

Basically, I realized that high school teachers have to deal with a lot of stupid people, and people who just don't want to be there. I didn't think I could handle them.

I thought for a while that I could be a college professor instead. The college students who show up to class are usually there because they want to be. They have at least a marginal interest in what is being taught, or they would have taken some other class. Then, I realized that college professors need a lot more schooling. When I graduated college, I told myself I would just take a few years off, then maybe go back to school. This was in Dec. '95. (Guiltguiltguilt) OK, OK. When we get to Cowtown, I will look into taking classes at UW-Zenith. No, seriously.

The reason I didn't become a journalist is much easier to explain. As mentioned, I was on the newspaper in HS. I was a co-editor my senior year. But once I got away, I realized I didn't want anything to do with newspapers ever again. I spent most of senior year crying, mostly because of the newspaper. Nothing was ever done unless I did it, and I usually did it wrong. Looking back, I think my senior year of high school was overall the worst year of my life so far.

Besides, I have absolutely no interest in current events. None, zero, nil. It's shameful, really. I'm probably a bad person. Or, at least, I'm a person who's utterly unqualified to be a journalist.

So, anyway, D. told this sophomore who called that I'll be home Thursday and Friday night this week. She'll call then. I would feel strangely guilty just avoiding her (I'm obviously a homework assignment. I don't want some nameless kid to fail Biology, just because I'm afraid to face what I could have been), so I will make an effort to be home and offline tomorrow. I'm really dreading her call, though.

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