of what happens in 5 years. (Well, in some cases, in nigh on a couple decades. But I did last see some of these people at my 10-year reunion.) I just stumbled upon the MySpace pages for my (first) high school’s 15-year reunion page, and from there the pages of the kids I grew up with.

This sounds awful, but it’s true: I look damn good.

It’s funny, though, seeing how they all turned out. The ones I might have expected to plow on to their PhDs married right out of school and started popping out kids. The ones I would have expected to be working factory jobs have advanced degrees and are interested in things I’d never expect a kid from our small town to even know about.

By and large, they’re all fat. I don’t know why this shocked me, but it did. Many of them no longer have much hair. My immediate reaction to seeing the group picture was “I’m not that old, am I?”

I can’t decide if I feel good for holding up as well as I did (at the 10-year reunion, my grade school best friend recognized me immediately, whereas it took me a few moments to place her), if I feel bad for not having married as well or popping out a single kid when they have kids in junior high, or if I can just take the high road and do neither.

I guess it’s a mix of all three. But it’s made me realize that, in order to create a 5-year plan, I have to boil it down to who I really am – what won’t change in 5 years, or 20. So, what do I really want to accomplish?

1. Not be broke.
2. Not hate what I do for a living.
3. Like myself most of the time.
4. Feel good more often than I feel bad.
5. Have a new couch.

There. My wine-sodden, exhaustion-driven 5-year plan. I’ll polish it up when I’m less tired and more sober.