Leaving. I can't say that there was a whole lot to enjoy about high school.
My senior year Prom. I went to prom all 4 years of high school but the senior prom was different. All of my friends were there and of course the after party was at my house. Now we didnt do anything too bad.......but it was great to have my friends around me and hangin out in the backyard shootin the breeze and just ending the best part of our high school years together. There were about 30 people there. Just wishing that we could go back even just for a little while....just to take a look and see how we all have changed from who we were to who we have become today!
Smoking in the girls bathroom, and never getting caught!
Senior year Spanish class. It was the only class I had with my best friend, and it was always fun lol. He and I stood out in the class for some reason and the teacher loved us. There wasn't anything really extraordinary about it, it was just a fun part of my life, and thinking about it now, it's probably going to be one of my favorite memories of my life.
It has to be the music class of '58. Brother Daniels was in a crappy mood, and I should have known better than poke the snake. My father was right: I'm a bloody smart-arse. Anyway, we started toodling away on our horrible little recorders and quite a din was generated. There had to be more to life than this, I thought. Being a trumpet pla
The mongrel was astute. Not only was I humbugging, but I was gold-fishing as well. He was on to me alright. That's when I must have lost my mind and any desire to go on living. 'So where do these stupid things get you in life anyway?' I asked him cheekily. The motion of the planet seized up and total silence fell. He was red-faced, and smarting from the insult. He lunged for a cymbal on a drum set next to him on the podium. I was aghast, open-mouthed, dumbstruck by what I'd unleashed.
I watched in slow motion as the cymbal left his hand like an Olympic discus. It came at me like a UFO, silent and deadly. Had I been less of a smart-arse, I would be decapitated by now. Instead, the submarine panic bells were sounding and my bodily survival mechanisms automatically activated. The murderous projectile soared just above my crew-cut noggin as I dropped to the floor like a shot beast. I heard a shreik from behind, and knew that one of the lads had copped the cymbal fair in the bonce.
Mahonny had taken the razor-sharp plate in the side of his head, nipping the top of his ear off and lodging, fixed, in the bone of the skull. His squealing made the sounds at a pig abattoir sound comforting. Down he went to join me on the floor, squirting blood all over the place, a-kicking and a-*******.
Now I know learning to play music is important, and that school was never meant to be just a childish lark. But I wondered at this delicate moment if something was being overlooked by us in that mournful music class at De La Salle Academy on that overcast Thursday morning in August 1958. Bro was taken away by the authorities and made to take a well-earned rest. I never ever got lectured to by anyone about my seedy part in the grubby, horrid little affair.
The biggest lesson I learned was that if the matter is serious enough, people will be more likely to just pretend it never happened. Within the space of a month, Daniels was back in class sitting on the window sill picking blackheads from that red bulbous hooter of his. Anyone for music? I thought, not game to make it audible to others.
You do learn some things at school. The really important things. And as a result, I've never taken my society seriously again after that. Why would you?
PS: What a pathetic society that censors a word I used above that had no reason to be censored. The programmed editing device assumed I was being smutty when I merely used a perfectly respectable English word to denote a sporadic movement I've seen dying animals do. What a pathetic society!!!
graduation. back then schooled sucked but now that am older am thinking it would be great to go back. but just for a week. maybe during skip week.
One memory that I really like is of a night I slept over one of my really good friend's house, before she died.
We were home alone (except for the cat). We were eating Ben & Jerry's ice cream and pizza, playing Snood, and then we got really hyper so we made up this game where we would hit each other with our hips and try to knock the other person down. We were so crazy, chasing each other around the house like that. It was so much fun.
Rusted - that was funny! :) I felt the same way. Although the most fun I had was in my freshman year. After that it ws down hill from then on.
Favorite memories were the Pep Rallies, Basketball and football games and the sound of the band on the field. I just loved spirit of excitement in the atomosphere and from the people.
The day my future wife (turned ex) walked into my Auto Shop class... Sept. 1996. For one brief moment, life had no flaws, and everything was perfect.