Should we recount?
I wrote my last entry after my last day of high school and since then I've been swimming laps in uncertainty (the pool opened memorial day weekend). The "Killer Questions" I wrote about in my first article for the Review this year were getting to me and you know how I am with everything: I'm just not ready. For anything. Ever.
I told everyone I was excited but then realized that was a lie. Then I told everyone I was excited but immediately followed that by admitting I was lying and was completely unsure of how to feel. At graduation practice, they taught us how to stand at length with our arms behind our backs, how to sit in unison, how to clap, that this was going to look really, really nice if we could just make sure to watch when the speakers place their hands on the podium, but yeah, I didn't learn what to feel. Wednesday morning after the last practice (but before picking up our tuxes because the line was so fucking long,) Frank, Kyle, Garrett and I went to Five Guys (11 sharp) and it didn't feel like the end. Actually, it kind of just felt awkward because I had just let myself into Schlaz's car on their way out of the lot so I think I was seen, about 50 percent of the time, as an uninvited guest. Until Garrett offered to pay for my burger and Frank and I got our kicks using the empty fry cups to steal soda. Then I knew shit was going to be aiiiiight.
Last night was Baccalaureate mass and for those not in the know (most) that's just a stupid name for a graduation mass. There's really not much to say about it except whenever I saw a woman crying I thought "stop crying, it's unnecessary."
We went to Buckley's for dinner afterwards. Pulling into the parking lot I saw someone tall, gangly and short-haired who could only be Tim McConnell and it was. Tim did a lot for me as a person freshman and sophomore year. He and Shawn were really close and I can't help but think Shawn's weirdness began with his friendship with Tim. Shawn though spiraled needlessly out of control and what really disappointed me last night was, after transferring to Warren Wilson with Shawn, Tim's become the same way. I got a hug and then some weird Shawn-esque maxims and that was that. My stupidly excited "Tim McConnell?!," issued from the window of our moving car, was put to shame by some quiet congratulations and barely formed sentences.
I took off work all day today and it was so nice. Because that place is just getting insane some days. So I got nearly 12 hours of sleep (9:30 to 9) and told Anna all about it when we went to West Chester (refreshingly early at 11:40). It was all I wanted to do before I graduate, just do something cool and kinda normal and not Salesianum oriented. I blew all the money I cashed from my check on records again. The Mad Platter is kind of overpriced but I don't care, it was all money well-spent. On vinyl I got Surfer Rosa ("Vamos" was the last song I listened to as a high schooler and it sounds so fucking good on my stereo) and Elliott Smith (I spent a good chunk of my afternoon listening to this, worrying, fretting and trying to finish Trainspotting,) then the new No Age and a used copy of the Magnetic Fields' Distortion (both totally awesome and kinda what my ears needed) on compact disc and the Amy Winehouse DVD I asked for for my birthday but didn't get.
Yeah, I spent a lot of the time between returning home and leaving again wallowing. It wasn't for nil but graduation actually turned out to be pretty cool. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Taken in black and white, fittingly, you know for the timelessness of the memories or some bullshit.
Ian and Will
Kyke Schlaaazzzz (not shitty.)
Let's do this Nick.
This was kind of unexpected.
BFF Three
Ahhhh Driz, you're wiil'in.
Slaugherhouse Salesianum. Nah, just kidding. It felt kind of cool, our teachers were lined up on either side of the hallway egging us on and giving us the requisite Michelle-Barack pound.
Murph (lower left) is going to West Point.
Oh Shit, go time.
Bird's eye. This was up in the bleachers, in the midst of applause for someone. It's a pretty good picture of what the whole night was like. After we all stood, I pulled out my camera and snapped it worrying all the while someone thought I had reached for a weapon.
Geoff was always really good to me even though he didn't have to and was pretty much the must well-known kid in the universe.
There's this tradition that after graduation, we all smoke cigars on the school steps. So we did that.
T-boneeee!!
Mimi, get in here.
Another unexpected bunch. Horace is black as night.
Barker is one of my favorites.
St. Patrick's.
It's easy to look cool next to Lou.
This was before we set the school on fire. Not.
Frank and Christian, thank you so much for always being my friends. This was pre-last Newpie session of high school.
Yeah, so that's that. I actually got a diploma which I honestly was not expecting at all because I didn't complete something that was very, very required of me. I'm not even going to mention it here for fear of the obsessive Googling on the part of Sallies' PR Dude Pete will turn up this blog and turn over my diploma. I even got a fucking award. They didn't tell me of this award beforehand. In fact, I didn't even know it existed. Well they give out awards you the sciences, you know, maths all that shit. Jason Patterson Dan Kowal very big deal shit. Every passing second, every award "merited" I was like, "ihatethosefucks,ihatethosefucks,ihatethosefucks..." Then, though, comes The Blah Blah Blah award for Excellence in Journalism and I get a nudge from Frank (whom I'm really glad I got to sit next to) and I expect to hear my name. I heard it, I got the gold fucking medal. Holy shit! I don't get awards, friend, I don't I don't. But this was cool. I mean, my grandparents got to see this shit. And maybe I pissed off Kowal and them (they all have bad haircuts anyway.) We filed out later, chatted. We went to different rooms to get our diplomas (we don't actually walk). Fittingly I had to go to the Library where I probably spent most of my time (and money paying back fucking fines, hah) and even more fitting, Mrs. Diemer handed me my diploma. I gave her a big hug and thanked her so much for everything. I told Ms. Orga that I'm not good with numbers but pretty good with words. Told Mr. Losapio again where I was going. I know most don't, but I really like that guy a whole lot.
I ended the night driving around with Christian in the batmobile, sans top. It smelled like honeysuckles and I accidentally stole a mint milkshake from Wawa.
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