Throwback Thursday: Blog Edition

There's an expression being bounced around the internet these days that seems to be getting a lot of attention: Throwback Thursdays (TBT). For those of you not in the know, Throwback Thursday is a term typically utilized by Facebook and Twitter users to justify posting old pictures of themselves or listening to embarrassing music from their younger years. Last week under the guise of TBT, I listened to New Found Glory and Mest for an entire glorious afternoon.

Throwback Thursday, while obnoxious when put in the hands of the wrong person, can be a very entertaining venture. I mean who wouldn't get a kick out you wearing granny-sized glasses to your preschool graduation?

Keeping the idea of TBT in mind, I chose to spend this cloudy Thursday morning sifting through some of my earliest writing, you know for pure amusement purposes. What I came across was a mix of semi-insightful poetry about The Giver, terribly executed, absurdist self portraits, and one particular jem that was too *good* not to share.

Despite graduating from high school with honors and developing some pretty solid friendships, I was not what you would call tuned in during my four years at Patchogue-Medford High. Having lost a parent in the 8th grade, I had already lived an en entire lifetime before walking into Regents Earth Science. To be honest, at 28 years old I have a very hazy recollection of my time spent there.

 Sure there are days that particularly stick out to me--like the time I was kicked out of gym class for *accidentally* pegging the teacher's pet in the head with a volleyball for instance. But for the most part high school for me remains a  bunch of puzzle pieces that don't quite fit together. I can't count how many times someone has walked up to me to rehash "the good old days" only to be met with zero recognition on my part.

Being that I was so out of it at the time, I barely remember the piece that I plan to share. I know that it was written in response to a quote I heard on an immediately canceled television drama in 2002. I had also recently denounced the youth group that I had spent 3 years being a part of. I was obviously questioning my personal beliefs and was more than a little bitter about having to wake up before 8am to attend classes with people I didn't necessarily care about.

The point is the words posted here today are the work of a an angst-ridden, extremely jaded wallflower who hadn't yet found her voice. For prosperity I have transcribed this essay that I wrote for 12th Grade Creative Writing in its entirety.  Showing great restraint, I have chosen not to fix the many grammar and punctuation errors it contains. It also should be noted that for some reason my teacher at the time allowed me to read this out loud to 90% of the graduating class. So bear with me now while I indulge in the ultimate Throwback Thursday:

Mistakes

By Amy Wahl

As teenagers, we are told that these will be the best years of our lives.

Yet, walking through these crowded halls all I can think about is how much I want out.

Out of the herd of students that push and shove each other left and right just to get where they’re going a little bit faster.

They never get there, yet they never stop.

Too busy with their soap opera lives to stop and enjoy the passing time,

Too caught up in the drama to see the reality.

The reality is that time is passing us by and nobody seems to care.

Too worried about what happens next to enjoy the here and now.

As I walk through these halls I think to myself, “Damn, these people need to calm down.”

Why are we rushing to finish first, does it really even matter in the end?

What if the world ended tomorrow?

Would we be proud of the lives we’ve led?

Would it matter to us that these past few years we’ve rushed into growing up,

Pressured each other to put away our toys and start acting like adults?

When our time is up, will it matter that we got to 6^th period before anyone else did?

Will God care that we’ve studied more than we had to?

I believe that we are put on this earth to love and to laugh, to bask in the simple pleasures, and learn from our mistakes.

I believe that the mistakes we make help us to be better people and live happier lives.

Someone once said, “Life is about making mistakes and death is about wishing you had made more of them.”

If this is true, I want to live life to the fullest, enjoy every moment without worrying about the consequences.

When my time is up, I pray to God that my life was full of mistakes and happy accidents.