Here's to unwanted trips down memory lane. The proclaimed "best" (not by me, mind) years of my life are to become a permanent record. Sort of. I got a letter in the mail sometime last week from my former high school. It seems the school district in which I was educated as a young lad has decided to publish an "alumni directory" for all the schools in the district.

The letter gave me a 10-day time frame to call and check on my biography, which currently probably says something like, "Phil graduated in 2002." I'm supposed to call the special toll-free number so that this "very important" charter project can get done. I, as a precious former graduate, have the special alumni "privilege" of calling said number and telling them about my life, my family, and my current occupation.

Here's what they'd probably expect from me:

Phil graduated in 2002 and went on to college in Albuquerque, where he got his degree in Accounting and Business Administration. He is currently working for one of Albuquerque's top accounting firms, and is about to get married to his girlfriend of three years.

I could be totally wrong here. I mean, I wasn't voted "most likely to succeed." But then again, I've always thought that award was lame. Like, only one person out of my graduating class would be likely to succeed? That would mean that pretty much everyone fails.

Now, if I was a popular kid, i.e. a jock or perhaps one of the drunken preppie kids, here's what my bio might read:

Phil graduated in 2002. He went to college out of state, but returned a year later. He married the girl he dated all through high school, and at the age of 23, he is the proud father of two sons. He is currently attending night school at the local community college, and is unsure what he wants to major in. He currently works at a local retail establishment.

This one was sort of inspired, actually, by a true story. I heard last year about a guy I grew up with who really did have two kids already, except that he was only 22.

But I bet most people I graduated with would flip if they knew what's really become of me:

Phil graduated in 2002 and still resides in Albuquerque. He currently works as a Signed Language Interpreter and also as a Speech Therapist in Training. He is not married, but rather is fabulously gay and has a wonderful partner with whom he shares his life. Oh yeah, and he owns a website that he blogs on frequently.

I think I've missed the 10-day deadline by now. Which is intentional. I feel no attachment to my high school days. If I really wanted to maintain contact with people from high school, I know other ways to do so. Facebook already serves that purpose for me anyway, and I hardly even use it for those I went to high school with.

Besides, the letter stated that as a graduate of my high school, I would be included in the high school directory for a school clear on the other side of town. Which makes perfect sense, right? Sorry, alumni directory putter-together people, but I'm not biting.