High School

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Scripps Ranch High School

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The “Quad”
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The football Field
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I ate a lot of lunches here.
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“You cheat in Ramps, you cheat in Life.”
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Fancy.
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I was shy in High School. Awkward.
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No High School Girlfriend. First kiss wasn’t till after.
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2.4 GPA
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In 10th grade I wrestled my way to an 0-2 junior varsity record. Both pins.
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Mr. Sullivan did not recommend me for Advanced English because I did not “write enough.” That move was negated by my counselor Mr. Hicks, who was a believer, lol. He got me into the better classes- but by senior year I was frequently AWOL. TRULY absent without leave. I drove up to Oceanside once and just stared at the ocean from the end of the long pier. Mr. Aguirre said, when I was the only one who hadn’t signed up for the A.P. gov test (the ONLY ONE? Geez.)¬†“I know you got a lot of shit going on.” Mr. Aguirre remains one of my faves for that reason alone I guess. I have no idea where he is right now. He told us that his ex-wife kept her TV in a closet and brought it out only for the presidential debates.
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1130 on the SAT. Back then it was out of 1600. 1130 was like okay. A little better than average, but nothing special- particularly when you have a measly 2.4 GPA. I forgot my calculator to one of the tests. ACT, or SAT, I can’t remember.
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Funny thing about the gas shut off valve. In sixth grade, I farted in front of class during a quiet moment. When Sixth Grade Camp came around (Every child in SD county goes to the woods and camps for a week) A fellow named Michael B got a kick out of reminding folks of the famous fart. He got a kick out of pointing to all of the cabins and little woodsy buildings that comprised¬†Sixth Grade Camp, and audibly observing their gas shut off notifications. Fortunately for Michael B, every single structure was adorned with the notice and he was diligent about publicly reminding me and whomever was around that I needed a gas shut off valve. This isn’t really a high school memory, but it’s close. Also, I have written about how I farted in class before so my apologies.
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Tried out for the baseball team the first two years. I wasn’t very fluid.
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I distinctly remember the final bell. Seniors gathered together in the center of the quad here and celebrated. I think they popped bottles of sparkling cider. I was off to the right, walking past all them. I gave em’ a good look. They were celebrating for me. I had nothing against any of them. Jealous, if anything. I had a nice little quiet moment. It was over. I was never going to step foot there again.
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