HIGH SCHOOL
I was in the very first class to ever attend Lake Highlands Freshman Center. Yes, they built a separate building and hired a separate staff for exclusively the ninth grade. I have no idea why this happened, but I went and had a pleasant enough time. By that point I was at least getting high every weekend, if not more often. I also think that freshman year marked the end of my church phase.
Random Memories: I wore a sweater vest the first day, got caught looking up cheerleaders skirts in the stairwell, experienced the cliche of a teacher recommending Catcher in the Rye to me, learned that I suck at Geometry, rocked a mohawk for a week, had a Spanish teacher who loved Sarah McLachlan so much that he had posters (plural) of her up in his classroom, started driving all the time
By sophomore year I was getting stoned every morning before school and every afternoon immediately after. Sometimes during lunch. We would hide joints within ball point pen casings. I was more of a fan of the early morning sessions because my first period class was art, unlike my poor bastard friend who had AP chemistry. I had been turned away from honors science in seventh grade and never went back. It was odd how most of the popular jock/prep kids were also in the AP classes, but I only hung out with them at school. In tenth grade, my social circle outside of academia consisted mostly of the drug kids. I had my first substantial crush that year, in that the girl knew who I was and we talked on the phone all the time. It may have been my first experience as the non-threatening kind of gay friend, but holy shit I'm just now remembering that those were the first breasts I saw in person that weren't in public... we didn't hook up or even make out or anything. Close to kissing once, lots of boner hugs and some cuddles. Okay, I guess I was that friend and it's sad, but I recently found out that she had a kid and moved to New Orleans and died last year, so now who's sad?
Random Memories: First time doing acid, first job (video store), first breasts seen & touched (different girls), first teacher I openly flirted with, second suspension for skipping school, favorite class ever: analysis of visual media, brought my video camera to school with me (yes, I was obsessed with American Beauty when it came out), got caught smoking pot and was sent to therapy for fourth (fifth?) time
I spent the next summer working with my dad full time as an electrician and realized I didn't really know him. I found his laid back asshole charm to be winning and worthy of emulation. I worked enough to buy my first car and decided that I would move in with him and his Canadian wife.
No Shame? The girl, the first crush gay friend girl, actually moved during sophomore year about five minutes from my dad's house in southeast Garland. That was a big factor in my decision, as well as my first encounter with what I believed at the time to be serendipity. Alas, the girl moved back to Dallas within a few weeks of my moving there.
So, my best friend had started correspondence school, where you do the lessons on your own and mail them in before proctoring an exam through a trusted adult. It seemed like a good gig that wasn't overly expensive, and it would allow me to keep working, so I went for it. It was boring, but I received dual credit for a few classes and managed to gain some college hours (the only ones I would ever get). The classes were through Texas Tech, so I guess that's kind of my college?
Random Memories: Really started getting fat, had money and was removed from friends, ate all/whatever I wanted, could buy porn & cigarettes at nearby gas station
By the next summer I was burnt out on school and electrical work, so I found a job at the Angelika and took my last few exams and just gave up on furthering my education. I was 17 and within a few months was working 50+ hours a week at $9/hour. I also dropped around 40 lbs and discovered that women liked me and I liked them and alcohol. That's pretty much when it started going downhill.
I received my G.E.D. the next September.
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