Which Blogger Am I?

Do you ever recall the people in your past who have left an impression on you, but you no longer have contact with? Do you ever wonder where they are or what they’re doing? Not because you really care, but just because you have a curiousity that needs satisfying.
In today’s world, you would think it would be relatively easy to locate people that you are no longer in touch with. In fact, there are countless offers on the internet which boast this ability. For only $29.95 you can be privy to a whole list of whats-her-names who live in a general range of where you remember her coming from. I have had this desire and I have occasionally wondered where certain people are and how they are doing. I wonder if they are still alive. I wonder if they died horribly. I wonder if they still wear Hammer pants and fly-net bangs. Here is a short list of the people who have, at one time or another, been a big part of my life and are no longer in it now, starting from childhood to recent times.

Dawn Booth- Where are you Dawn Booth? Do you still have warty hands and a pixie haircut? Dawn was one of my 1st grade classmates who always wanted to play with me but since I was a 6 year old snot I would avoid her as much as possible because Dawn was a Hand Holder. And as I’ve already indicated, she had warty hands. I didn’t even matter if we were being chased around the jungle gym by the boys, this freak wanted to hold my hand. I didn’t know if I was playing tag with the rest of the class or running away from the grasp of her knotted and bumpy dollhand. This was my first introduction into the act of snubbing. It didn’t matter how cool her Barbie’s were. I wasn’t getting anywhere near those hands.

Mrs. Lightheiser- This bitch was my 4th grade teacher and for some reason that I can’t explain, she hated me. She made my life miserable. She picked on me mercilessly. Embarrassed me, harrassed me and stomped on my tender little 9 year old soul. I want to know where she is only so I can be satisfied in the knowledge that she is decrepit and rotting away in a nursing home somewhere without a single former student to visit her frizzy old ass. Or maybe she’s dead, in which case I hope she is slowly turning on a burning stake in the bowels of the fifth level of hell.

Dawn Newton- I wonder where she is now because the last thing I ever heard about her is that she had discovered the wonders of hard core drugs and so I have to wonder if she’s still alive or if I’ve actually seen her in an episode of Cops and didn’t know it. She was the only rich girl I’ve ever been friends with and her life fascinated me. Her house was huge and ornate, her father was a vice president of Subaru Corp in Denver and her mother was a delicate genteel southern belle. They had all of the things I could never have and I wallowed in their richness like a pig in the proverbial mud. When I spent the night, I was assigned to the guest bedroom where I dreamt of unicorns and Liz Claiborne purses amongst soft blue pillows, underneath a gossamer canopy of floating ivory. It was a period in my life that fascinates me to this day. From my memories of her dollhouse bunk beds to the real carousel horse hanging in her room that matched the handpainted carousel horses on her wall, it was a home of decadence and place where my wildest dreams came true. The swimming pool with the waterfall, the gazebo set amidst the perfectly sculpted backyard, the spiral staircase leading to the rich wood-shelved library, the marble floors and the ivory and gold-trimmed pool table. I remember it all as if it were my own, and for a short time, it seemed as though it was.


Bobby Mothershed- The boy who gave me my first kiss, with tongue. It was Halloween night of 1985. I was in a midriff baring genie costume and he was wearing his customary skater apparel of Vision Street Wear and Bones Brigade. We met in a nearby parking lot while I was supposed to be trick or treating with my girl friend. The first tentative touch of our tongue tips was electric. I melted. It was a movie star kiss. Perfect and sweet and brief. I just wonder if he’s still skateboarding and if his freckles ever went away.

Alex Jessett- This guy was my first. Yes, my very first. I met him at the mall and we were star-crossed lovers. He attended Strake Jesuit Prepartory School For Boys and I was just a poor apartment dweller who attended a public high school. His parents were British and of course they had that fascinating way of speaking with lots of ahs and uhs incorporated into every word. He didn’t have that accent but he did pronounce things with a different flair, like “vitt a min” instead of “vite a min” and “bean” instead of “been”. These are the things that made me willingly give my virginal body to this boy and regret it for the next five years. Perhaps in payment for my virginity, he bought me a little golden ring with a diamond chip and asked me to marry him. After I moved I never called him again. I’m sure he is someone important somewhere. I wish him the best.

Jeff Shockley- This was my high school boyfriend and he broke my fragile fucking heart. Always the rebel, I dated a guy from our rival school in San Benito. I would spend my lunch hours cuddling with him in a park about midway between our two towns. He was tall with green eyes and soft, dark curly hair. He introduced me to Marvel Comics and I read his entire chest full of books one after the other. I was hooked on the Inifinty Gauntlet and the Legacy Virus…these were my soap operas and I was still at an age where I could fantasize about fictional characters and get hot over certain male mutants. Jeff and I dated for two and a half years before he dumped me unceremoniously one day. I cried like a little bitch and then I hated his guts. I ran into him about 8 years ago and he was still the same…at the height of the grunge period, wearing a flannel shirt with long tousled hair like Lestat’s Armand. My heart squeezed just a little and then he was gone. I don’t wish him well and I don’t wish him death. I just wonder whatever became of him.

I can say with honesty that my life is what it is because of my relationships with these people. For better or for worse, I am a product of the influences that they engendered. I can look back and feel at peace with their departure from my life. It was what it was and I can only give an occasional thought to wonder perhaps at where they might be at this moment and if they remember me in technicolor the way I remember them.

But if I never know the answers to those two questions, it won’t kill me.