High school mostly just got in the way of impending college

I am definitely that style of bloke that gets a little squishy internally when I meet somebody that says "I loved high school!" Weeeeeee, how clearly wonderful for you. Please feel my tepid yawn. Not too hot and not too cold. I can and will accept your experience, but for me, high school mostly provided flashbacks of "tolerable" from where I had presently existed. Although I definitely had many positive micro moments in high school with friends, from a macro perspective, I continually felt strangled by the daily environment. College would be my jam. I was pretty sure I was ready to hit college before I was 17. For sure! In my head!

After doing the arithmetic, I think I had seven good friends with one best friend throughout the complete school of high. One was outside of my school, my sister's boyfriend, but that still applies. A few were 2 and 3 years older, friendly but established skull-crushing types, and consistently had my HS back when the seniors wanted to mess with the upstart freshman. The friends were spread out amongst multiple interest territories. See, I was a wanna be jock, 1/2 wanna be brain and a fully anointed metalhead. I only had one friend that had the same ability to surf all three waves like myself. Still, my best friend wasn't a jock and wasn't a brain, but a slightly shrunken dude who was loyal, easy-going, metal, and shared the same sense of humor. There were times we were rather inseparable. With these friends I rocked through basketball, football, brain-busting classes, lame-ass high school parties... and metal. The savior, of course! I also acquired an older girlfriend as a junior, who I thought was illegally cute. I mean, like fluffy huggable little stuffed animal kind of cute. Legitimate cougar. For two years we kicked it, even after she surged ahead of me into college. So, I guess that wasn't such a negative story preface overall, containing some personal life skeleton work.

I grew up with the mom, sis and bro. Not mucho dinero in the picture, but it wasn't some major plight. Toss me a ball, a bike or a cassette for my Walkman (yes youuuthz, I said Walkman, look it up) and I was usually cool. Then I traded the bike in for the borrowing of the momster's automobile. When I got to high school, it was sports, metal, the necessary schoolwork annnnd my nestling libido taking a beating more times than not with the young ladies. At one point, I'm prettt-ttty sure all I wanted was girls... and food. As I juggled all of the above, I managed to carve out a sophomore moment telling my football coach to f*%k off AND a senior moment (not that kind) telling my basketball coach to f*%k off... and I was a captain. Let's categorically not leave out the cheerleaders. Talk about creating a shaky relationship with such a fun-pretending group. Not because of some predictable teenage movie plot depicting their misleading unattainability and my male ego. No, I hated that they were cheering during our f*%king free throws! Brain capacity, minimal maybe do ya think? I suppose the home game berating I unleashed toward the lovely young ladies, including what I believe was a "what the fuck, what are you idiots?" tainted my future relationship with the bunch. Ehh, what did I care? My girlfriend was cute like a fluffy little huggable stuffed animal, remember? There you have it. Equal opportunity contempt, I say! Well, for the football coach it was entirely warranted. Also add the cheerleaders.

I was unquestionably a wise-ass with, let me see, at least one teacher of English, Physics, Algebra, History, Spanish, Phys Ed, ???? and Calculus. But my Calculus teacher loved me, because he could absolutely out wise-ass me like a winner. One would say, I developed a zealous disapproval with authority just about everywhere. I didn't TRY to be that way. It was relatively natural. Now that sounded grumpy and disrespectful. What I actually mean is, I apologize, a little? I wasn't irreverent. I rarely got into trouble. Alright, maybe I was a bit irreverent, but I rarely got into trouble. No drugs, no arrests, no school suspensions, solid grades and the mom machine dug my style the correct amount. It's just that this guy here despises cliques, the social caste system, whatever you want to call it. Basically, the juvenile collective bullshit. At that age, I think I was ahead of the curve in ignoring that juvenile social bullshit territory, while still being able to surf it. Sometimes it was pretty laughable to watch people try so hard to impress and even pander to a point. That brings us back to the authority subject. I also didn't welcome the widely accepted sub-group structures having authority over my any parts of my universe, except once again, the tolerable. Example: If the Saturday night party sucked, which was usually the case, I'd simply chasse home in time for Metal Shop-WYSP-midnight and my big boy boombox. That always provided a high-quality atmosphere.

Here's the all-encompassing deal on the subject. As I meandered my way through the school before college, sooner than later I felt no for need training wheels. I felt I didn't need boundaries. I felt I didn't need a 100% life-sucking regiment, but maybe 50% (I did require some discipline). I could do without the emotion swallowing siege of teenage group tight roping. I could do without the hallway pass interrogation on my way to the bathroom, Mrs. Silkworth. The constantly-starting-shit-nothing-to-lose creatures would have been great to pass over, although whacking one now and then was pleasing. Proms! Who invented an event where we can be bored AND supremely dressed up at the same time? Although the girls did look quite lovely. Females! That's who created proms, I get it!  With all that was said, I guess iron sharpened iron through the extensive sprawling ordeal.

FINAL DETERMINATION: My girlfriend, my metal records and my friends 'o' metal (and one more) carried me over the finish line.  +  Food.

FLASH FORWARD TO JUST AFTER THEN, BUT WAY BEFORE NOW: College was undeniably my jam. Maybe I was ready to hit college before I was 17. For sure! Perhaps not, but it felt that way!