So dinner tonight — a very yummy affair at a mislabelled sushi bar, Maru, here in Santa Clarita Valley — turned from tales of traffic tickets received to various revelations of misspent youth, most of which had to do with alcohol or drugs (or, in one case, being followed by police as a suspected radical agitator).
What was a bit … discouraging was that, well, I really don’t have a “misspent” youth to sheepishly brag about. Most of my “interesting” stories are either geeky or angsty, not the sort to regale one’s colleagues with.
Which, I suppose, is not (objectively) a bad thing, but it does make me feel a bit of an oddball. Which, after all, shouldn’t be anything new …
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