Oh, Them Halcyon Days

It’s funny. I’ve spent so long not thinking about home, and all it takes for me to feel a little pang of longing is looking at my old highschool’s website. Strange how memories of a place that is no longer the same for me affects me more than images and conversations with people from home. It’s as if the whole notion of home is overshadowed by that of friendship and camaraderie. Not that I see home is unimportant, that is. But home is something I…well…go home to. And hopefully will always be able to return to. On the other hand, highschool was different. Those were days of close-knit companionship, first loves, and thinking of little else. Back home, most thoughts were of either going abroad or looking forwards (or dreading) to a new day filled with fun and misadventures.

Yes, I do miss my highschool. Not so much the school and the studies themselves, but the people who were part of my experience. My friends, for sure. I found that friendship can be as thick as blood (though not as thick as my skull, at most times) and lasting friendships can be forged out of the fires of rivalry and hardship. My best friends, more like real brothers and sisters than simple friends. My juniors, those who saw me as less of a senior and more of a big-brother figure who was willing to lend a helping piece of advice or two. My film club comrades, people with whom I shared work, pain, joy, food, and the occasional bed. My teachers, who were there to teach and support me, in all their quirky little ways. Like Jacqueline Z. Cussen, the ‘Mother of the Revolution’ and year-level coordinator for the last years of my highschool. Truly a character straight out of a Shakespearean satire. And my principals…well, they were there, and they were always pretty fun to mess around with (like the time *some people* issued the fake announcements detailing uniform requirements…Ronald McDonald shoes, anyone?). In short, it was an entirely different world. And it still sticks to my heart like that piece of gum I stepped on earlier this morning stick to my shoe.

A testament to our glory days.

Alas, even if I return, it will never be same experience. My friends have gone, my juniors grown up, my teachers off to new horizons…even the buildings have changed and improved. And that was only a month after I graduated. So I can only look in longing at the photographs and smile as I read the online newsletters, all the while reminiscing the ‘good old days’ I once had. I certainly won’t forget them, but they’re just that; memories, and nothing more.

C’est la vie, shikata ga nai, and whatnot.

[End Transmission]