Facebook Nostalgia is a Disease That Should Be Eradicated

Remember the early 00s, when everybody and their sister had their hair died the same purple red shade? Also, look how freaking clear my skin is. God.

Last Christmas, my sister bought my folks a scanner, so they could go through the tub of family photos and get them on the computer. Of course, they did no such thing. So this Thanksgiving, while Carrie was home, she tried to go through as many as possible. And during the course of digging through that tub, she ran across some old rolls of film I had taken during my City Year stint and while at Kent State. It was a weird coincidence, because a few days before I had decided to start looking for some of the girls I was friends with at Kent.

This is Sarah and Amanda. They lived on the same dorm floor as me and Courtney, and since we were the only girls not members of the Dance Team, and enjoyed certain other recreational activities a lot (Pharcyde, boxed wine, wearing hemp shit), we hung out a lot. I know Sarah went off and got married and pregnant somewhere in Amish country, so I doubt I'll ever find her. But I actually ended up at a party of Amanda's about 4 years ago, when she was living in Cleveland Heights with Grace. I didn't even know it was hers until I ran into her there. I got her number at the time, but have since lost it like three cell phones ago, which makes me sad. I'm terrible at keeping in touch with people. I'm also really bad at remembering last names, which would be helpful.

I've tried to find her and Courtney, the girl below, on FB. I've literally scanned through thousands of profiles. But nothing. It's not surprising. I doubt either of them are in Ohio anymore, and I don't list KSU on my profile, so why would they? I have, however, learned there should be a new exciting field of FB stereotyping, because Courtneys are fucking slutty in their profile pics, and Amandas are almost all blonde, and if I ever have a baby girl I am never letting her have a camera ever.

Then there's this girl below, who I can't even remember the first name of. She and Wendy lived next to me, and they were awesome. Especially this girl though, who was super smart and dorky and fun, and always up for doing something incredibly stupid or dangerous or just weird. I think I even at some point went to her parent's house and stayed over. I remember it was in the middle of nowhere, and they were artsy types, and I was scared to leave my bedroom to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night because it was so fucking dark. It kills me that I can't even remember her first name. I feel like it makes me a bad person. I remember she was always complaining about how hard micro-economics was, and it made me not want to go into advertising. Actually, that might have been Wendy.

This is Mamie. She was super sweet and activisty. Please ignore my mess of a dorm room behind her. Also the towel by the door.

In contrast, here's Wendy, who's room with Mystery Girl was always fucking immaculate and cute. I learned early on that I was not going to be the girl who entertains people in her living space. I am the girl who lives in filth, and dreams about organized neat shit. It was true then. It's true now. I ran into Wendy like 5 years ago at a show. She seemed nice enough still, but we never kept touch. She had really good taste in music, especially in comparison with the Aerosmith brigade on the other side of my room. The problem with finding her is that her last name was Jones, of all things. There are 2,500 Wendy Jones with Ohio in their profile. None of them look like her. Also, she's exactly the kind of girl who's married by now.

That drawing on the bottom right is totally by me, and I wish I could read what it said. Like, maybe it might have her roommate's name on it?

I don't know why I suddenly wanted to find these people. I guess Facebook does this thing where you find yourself in touch with all sorts of people you never thought you would talk to again, and you look at that ever growing list of "friends" and wonder why the people you really considered friends aren't on there. You've got your present life and your present friends, and there isn't sometimes enough room for all of them, so why go searching for more people? But then your pesky sister decides to be all responsible and go through crap that's been boxed up for a decade.

And you find certain pictures and wonder why the hell you're holding a ferret, and who did that ferret belong to, and why is it in your dorm room?