Warning: Not about Hawaii. Alternate title: A long time ago, we used to be friends A couple months ago, I wrote about someone I used to be friends with. Through the magic of Classmates.com, he sent me an email. I was stunned, to say the least. Turns out, I was right about him. In a way. He did get heavily into drugs, but he's really gotten his life together, is working with troubled teenagers and trying grad school again. It was weird and funny and cool to hear from him. Something must happen when we turn 30. He's about the fourth person I've gotten caught up with in the past year. I spent my teen years wanting so much to be already grown up and on my own and not in the town I grew up in. Then my 20s were all about making my own life and shunning where I came from. And I suppose the 30s is all about realizing it's OK to remember where we come from. Which I guess means, my god, I'm an adult. Scary. Weird. I feel kind of bad about what I wrote about him. And I thought about deleting it. But he doesn't know about blog -- as far as I know. So for now it stays. But THIS is why I didn't have a diary as a kid. I was always afraid someone would read it.