I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. About once every two or three weeks I make a new vow to myself that I will not scroll through Facebook ever again - particularly before bed - because of the abnormal amount of alarming, negative posts on the state of the world today, and the state of our country, and the state of families, and the state of the lives of people I once knew but haven't seen in well over twenty years.
However, there are just as many heartwarming and inspiring stories on FB that I love getting to see, particularly those of people I was close to once upon a time who are now experiencing milestones...or breakthrough...or victory in their lives. I love that. I get it. It makes me glad to know.
I'm obviously a conflicted facebook user.
But, I was caught off guard by the memories stirred up inside me this week when I opened my Facebook early Monday morning while enjoying my last cup of coffee (ok yes, sometimes I scroll through FB at the beginning of the day, too) and found several posts on this: Hell Week, people.
The jillion year-old rivalry between Amarillo High and Tascosa is on again - and it always will be - and it culminates this Friday night at the ballgame.
I live in Dalhart. And I am so glad this week that I don't live on Danbury Street anymore in Amarillo.
But I have stumbled upon a few funny Facebook posts by people from the past who are back in Amarillo, and they are getting to experience again all the wonderfulness....and eggs.... that hell week has to offer.
I can not stop chuckling.
Interestingly, these Facebook posts regarding hell week have me not so much thinking about the rivalry itself, but have reminded me most of my high school days in general.... when I had my whole life ahead of me, so to speak, and my biggest worry was whether my bangs would hold up under the extreme weight of the Aussie sprunch hairspray.
And oddly enough, my children have also coincidentally been asking me this week to tell them bedtime stories of when I was young, and so, much to my six year-old son's delight, I have had a chance to tell him about the "heck" weeks between AHS and THS....and that time my senior year that our guys got to play at Texas Stadium in the state quarterfinals. Being a Cowboy fan, he was very impressed.
I also mentioned to him that time I ran the mile relay at the UT stadium; however,the significance of it was totally lost on him the minute I said UT. (His daddy is a Tech grad.)
And then, my kids have cackled at the story of that time I put a hole in my neighbor's fence with my car. And didn't tell anyone about it. Until my mom got a call from the neighbor.
That story is a good lesson on not being a complete moron.
I will admit: I have a slight wistfulness for those carefree days, when my lungs and legs could sprint the quarter mile without needing an oxygen tank and a stretcher....and my parents' weren't divorced yet....and my dad was giving me driving lectures on how to coast through the alley to our garage instead of gunning the motor.
While those teenage years were a breezy time when my biggest stressor was studying for the dreaded Humanities practicum test, or trying to figure out how to get my butt out of advanced pre-calculus (good grief), it was also a period of great insecurity and angst amid that rose-colored, carefree life.
Truly, there are some memories back then of my immaturity and lack of just general common sense that I prefer not to recall. I wince at some of the things I said and at some of the ways I acted.
So, while I can nostalgically look back at the days of lunchtime runs to Taco Villa, and road trips to all the games of all the sports, and the dances and the parties and the fun fun fun, I can quite frankly and thankfully say right here and now........
I don't want to go back.
I'm looking at you 1991. You were great and fabulous with your Bryan Adams, and R.E.M. and the big hair and all the denim, but you've got nothing on this:
Each year gets better. I happen to really love 2014 right now, along with this man:
He conveniently left his T-bird jacket at home last year. Or maybe the ninja confiscated it. At any rate, God has blessed me.
Good luck Sandies. Beat the hell out of Tascosa.
Someday you won't want to go back either.