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Thursday, September 22, 2005

Me & Mory

After weeks of playing phone tag, I finally got to meet up with my stalker from high school who amazingly enough lives in my apartment complex. I went to visit him last night, and though we were never really friends in high school, it was eerie how familiar he felt and how natural everything about our encounter was. To me he is not even a real man. He is more of a walking memory from a life long forgotten. The word “memory” truly sums up every nuisance about last night. I’ve even decided to name him Mory because he is such a strong source of nostalgia for me.

We talked of the people and teachers we remembered and all the things we used to do in high school. I told him that the only thing I could remember about him was that he was the class clown. He always had jokes and the only picture I remember taking of him was at Mock Homecoming where all of the boys on the homecoming court would dress up as women and have a hilarious beauty competition to see who would become “homecoming queen.” In my memories of Mory, he was not someone to be taken seriously, but I was very wrong about him. He’s surprisingly smart and quick with a response. I’m afraid that he could even out debate me in any argument, which I both admire and hate at the same time. My good friend Barefoot in Blue went to high school with Mory and I as well, but she knows Mory a lot better than I do. She said one night that Mory's intelligence is so bright that he feels he has to turn it down and play the clown so as not to blind everyone else with his light. At the time it sounded like such a beautiful thing to say, but I don't know if I really believed it until last night. He really does shine when he doesn't fell obligated to be the buffoon.

Mory said that the only thing he could remember about me was that I was on the dance team, and it was his job as the school mascot to remember all of the cheerleaders and dance team members. It was amazing to me how many of the dance team members he could remember. There were about 20 of us and he could name a good ten, whereas I who was actually on the team and spent a lot of time with the girls could barely remember the name of two of them. It’s so strange to me how unimportant some things become. You spend so much of your time on an activity, but when it’s over, you see that it really wasn’t that important to you to begin with. I even forgot that one of my really good friends was on the team. I mean, I was at this girl’s house everyday. I rode to school with her and her sister every morning, yet I forgot that she was on my dance team! Tell you the truth, I almost forgot her name.

Because of these unforgivable oversights, I was forced to get out my yearbooks and review these forgotten years. Mory was, of course, on every other page being voted the class favorite, the most school spirited, and the friendliest person in the school. You won’t see my name associated with any such titles. I’m hiding in the back of every yearbook picture. You would need a magnified glass to find me. So many parts of me were shy and hiding from the world, but yet I was out and about in the middle of everything just because I happened to make the dance team.

Anyway, after the reminiscing was over we did some catching up, discussing what we are doing with ourselves now, and how we both moved to Nashville from Mississippi. We’ve both changed a lot and have had so many different experiences, but I feel there is a inexplicable understanding between us, like since we know each other’s roots that anything that builds off of that base is already known and almost expected. It’s kind of like talking to a relative you haven’t seen in years. They may not know what you’ve been up to but they still know you and the core of who you are somehow. It’s so strange to get all of that familiar energy off of a semi-stranger, but I guess that's just the type of relationship me & Mory have.

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