This entry was inspired while cleaning my room.
Way back in the day (back in the high school day), it was not uncommon for the graduating seniors to sign each other’s yearbooks, leaving messages wishing for a fun summer, good college experience and to keep in touch.
Now, I had a yearbook in 8th grade for middle school graduation, and also for 9th grade (since the freshmen were in their own building adjacent to the high school, it was pretty much it’s own entity and as such, recieved its own yearbook). Since I am a genius, I decided that I wanted something in which people would write me everlasting messages, but I didn’t want to pay the $75 for a yearbook and no one else in our grade was going to buy one until senior year. I had a cheap and effective alternative. I used a blue, plastic 1″ binder filled with looseleaf paper and asked all my friends (and aquaintances) to sign my “yearbook.” Looking back, this was a great idea simply because there were some people in the pre 12th grade yearbook that didn’t sign the actual yearbook.
While going through it, I found some noteworthy entries. One was from a girl that I knew through a mutual friend. She left her number in there, so I guess I was supposed to call her, but I never did (ball = dropped.) Another was from my 11th grade AP United States History teacher which reads as the follows:
Joe —
This is a great yearbook. It doesn’t contain any ugly pictures of students. Hope you have a good senior year + be sure to stay away from me.
— Tom Kane
An entry from a friend of mine that doubted the awesomenessisity of the fake yearbook:
Joey
This is stupid. Your (sic) a sophmore (sic). Get over it. Wait 2 years. That’s all I’m writing.
The ever-random message:
Flonase
I guess someone needed some allergy medication or something. Renee makes a cosmetic suggestion:
Yo Frankino!
We gotta dye your hair blue this summer! I can’t wait for your party! Have a kickass summer.
The other entries won’t be posted since they’re all funny-in-context or standard yearbook messages, but for the most part, people commented on attending my end-of-the-year party (10th and 11th grade only) or how smart and / or funny I was and that I should never change. The 12th grade yearbook follows along similar lines, except there’s actually more people in that one than in the 2 previous years combined. I guess that says something about my social development.
Truth be told, when going through these yearbook messages, I kinda realized some things: 1) If a girl leaves her number in the yearbook, it’s usually a good idea to call her. 2) People have been saying how funny I am 6 years ago. I still think I can make people laugh consistantly (even moreso than in high school). So, I figure, why not try comedy? If people say I’m funny, let’s see how funny I can be doing stand-up. There’s an open-mic night coming up at Govenor’s, a comedy club in Levittown; if I do well, it’s a step in the right direction. If not, I can try again or try something else. It’s an attempt at something new, which I’m always a fan of.
That last paragraph kinda trailed off the topic, but I’m just openly musing here. Being retrospective sometimes will yield new direction, and this is one new direction for me. Of course, if this doesn’t work then at the very least I’ll gain a new experience. “Carpe Diem” is a great mantra for life, and this is just another exercise in Carpe Diem. “Sieze the Day” was responsible for me running for a student government position I knew I had no chance of winning, but at least I can say “I did that” as opposed to “I wish I did that when I had the chance.”