Admittedly, I get more nostalgic than I should. I don't know why...I just have a memory for things that once were. As to the present, those things whip by and these 45-year-old eyes pay them no mind; the months and years plummet off the calendar.

But, something 25-30 years ago?

Sometimes it feels like yesterday. I'll hear a song from '91 or '92 and feel what I once did, how the world was a big place, full of mystery and wonder that lay just outside my home's front door. I had a heart to extend that was shrouded by an introvert's misgivings. It was a time long before the world calloused such things. Isn't that the path we take toward adulthood? Sarcasm and distrust smash dreamlands and hammer out armors of intellect.

Bon Jovi's She Don't Know Me is a befitting anthem for the high school guy who inflects, implies, and infers affection. Each day, I rummaged around my closet and pulled out one outfit: The Nice Guy. I wore it well; it seemed to fit.

It didn't speak anything beyond a middling honors student. It did not show my heart for adventure. There were no highlights that lit up the room as to a passion for independent thought with a willingness to leave the known to pursue something greater. No, I was thought of as "nice." And it's true, I was the guy parents wanted to meet and call on their daughter.

I had no interest in academics. Now, I was in THE classes—I did them—but there was no challenge—no unique thought; it just didn't capture my attention. Now social interplay...now THAT captivated me. And I suspect my being its student forwarded my social ability as an INTJ, who are not renowned for our capacity to "show" empathy. And I suspect the social side did challenge me, as the class I would have LOVED to study, physics, was taught by a coach and prominently featured free time of chess. Or, is it more accurate to say it was a chess course that had a downtime of physics?

On a side note: to some extent, understanding how The Others lived was of particular interest, so much that I stepped down from honors and took standard English and U.S. History classes my junior year; a semester of study hall; and a class down in the vo-tech wing.

I was curious. It's not unlike my approach at university. I seemingly didn't feel like the university general education requirements were enough; I took more. It was at a time when you plopped enough cash down to become a full-time student by taking 4 classes, you could take up to 3 more classes for FREE.

College was going to an all-you-can-eat buffet! I didn't take 1 PE course, I took 4. I didn't need criminal justice or psychology—I WANTED them. Sometimes I took classes to see what they were like before dropping them, which tied directly into Music Appreciation and another in classical guitar. I suppose that behavior didn't fit the range between the do-the-bare-mininum, ever-sleepy college student and the exuberant, tongue-wagging, dean's lister on a leash.

Still, back in high school, I was developing confidence. I didn't know I was an INTJ until I was 16 and I'm not so sure if I knew I was an introvert then. Just different. I always knew I had a blitz of ideas in my head that I kept bottled up. I'd debate with my Sunday School teacher. Things were harder for me in a world dominated by extroverts. But you learn to play the game, to mimic, to toss yourself into the dark abyss of uncomfortable situations. To this day, I dislike gatherings at people's homes—the feints and schemes of social strata. But to get lost on some train platform with another as we hold a timetable in French or Polish? Now THAT's living!

I was never the type to have a girl around my arm walking down those high school hallways. Not that I didn't want that—what guy wouldn't want that? Interestingly, I saw girls at other schools; I knew the game: in my pocket, I had the mirror, comb, and mouth spray. I studied the game for a long time. But, I guess it was the fear of rejection that I did not want to lose what I did have. I didn't roll the dice at the risk of losing daily friendships, the exact type of person that made sense, instead of the no-risk, two-dimensional ones I chose. And when these lectures were over, it was too late while "knowing that the day my lessons finally learned."

But, I learned. Perhaps that classwork rivals that semester of typing as the biggest lesson I learned in high school. And a new landscape was unlocked in Fall 1996 as I stepped onto a college campus, already vested into its social intricacies in the first 10 minutes with someone I'd later roll a nat 1 on that semester.

My "New" Phone

I know this is revolutionary, but I am going to use my cell phone like a cell phone! It might as well be my Nokia in the 90s—it can't take a beating like that Nokia did! And I don't have to buy a $50 battery that could add vibration.

Instead of this Samsung life buddy, I'll use my phone for a quick phone call of where to meet or at age 21 or 22, for a confirmation of when your Mustang convertible's alternator locks up on the Bluegrass Parkway and belts go a-flyin'. Incidentally, that is also a good time to keep a credit card on your person.