Last night Stephanie and I went back to Ashland University for the homecoming comedy show, Colin Mochrie and Brad Sherwood. They did improv stuff, like on Whose Line, and frankly as a long-format show it wasn't very good. We left early.
We walked around campus and it was like going to a different place. I didn't bother going to the radio station since it was rebuilt. There's a new rec center under construction, along with a new education building, expansion of the science building and closure of a road they bought. There are also new parking lots, a new student center, new business building, new senior apartments. Basically, the place I went to school is long gone. Short of inviting myself into my old dorm rooms, it's a totally different place.
I ran into my roommate from my senior year. She's had a child, gained some weight, and it was, I don't know, weird. I didn't see anyone else. Even at the BW3, there were alumni from the last year or two, and then really old people that had been out 30 years. It has only been 10 for me.
I don't even know why I wanted to go. Maybe it's because Steph and I met there. I honestly haven't even thought about college in a long time. It annoys the shit out of me that the people I considered my friends would disappear into the world.
Since graduating, I've changed careers three times, been married, gone through layoffs, the Internet boom and bust, etc. I couldn't predict or control most of it, but it has been endlessly interesting, if not traumatic at times. No regrets at all, and I wouldn't trade in even the worst times.
I feel more than anything like there's so much potential for great new things, and I probably haven't thought of what those things might be. It's hard to get your head around that; that the next big thing in your life can't even be conceived. How cool is that? I realized that's the same feeling you have in college. That brings me a lot of joy because it means I still haven't been beaten down by the world, and I'm still hanging on to feeling young. That's awesome. I just have to reconcile that notion with one perfectly summed up by Janet in the movie Singles:
"I think time is running out to do something bizarre. Somewhere around 25, bizarre becomes immature."
Bah. That's nonsense!
Funny you should make this post as the same subject about change and growing up came up for me this week. Especially the "still hanging on to feeling young".
It was weird when Ian moved into the same apartment building in Ann Arbor that friends of both Gordon and I lived in when we were in college. It really hadn't changed much in 30 years, and that lack of change is what really made it feel especially strange...like time had stood still.
Now, 30 years later, after changing jobs several times, having made $100K in his last job, here is Gordon working in Guitar Center with all these young kids, spending his free time recording (CD is almost finished), and doing things at 50 that most people begin before 25. And he's happier than he's ever been.
And me? I still get a major kick when people hear my real age. I don't act my age, I don't feel my age. But there is still 51 years of experience behind me that comes in handy. I don't believe bizarre becomes immature even after 50. But then, I also don't fucking care what others think.