(no subject)

Hey Humans,

My last day of High School was Friday. And I must say, if all of school could have been like this, I doubt I'd have been so resentful of its taking up my reading time.

I didn't have many classes, and of those I did have, most were cut short or let out altogether, as teachers knew that from here on out, it was either sink or swim on our own merits. We'll either study or not, do well on the exams or not, succeed or not, and they've done their part so now they can let us all get on with it.

So, of course, being the person that I am (and also confident about my exam-acing prowess), I went and lay on the quad, in the sunshine, for hours on end.

It was, in a few words, pretty rad. The people around me changed, and I sometimes went away and came back, but we were all dog-piled on the grass for ages, and I've never been so tan and happy in my life. I should be grateful I didn't burn, though frankly I'd be shocked if David's whole chest isn't red from having his shirt off so long. It's my feeling that you've never truly bonded with one of your friends until you've fallen asleep in their houses. Let me ammend that to say that you're never really bonded with someone until you've been perpetually lazy with them for hours. Laziness has its purposes, and that's one of them.

It's just Senior Chapel to look forward to, now. Leah and I are going to do a reading from 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern' (suggestions of particular passages much appreciated), then I'll do a reading from 'The Prophet'. Also, reminder to self: talk to Mrs. Cunningham about getting the Change Ringers into the program.

Though, really, the only important part is the passing of the roses. In theory, every senior passes two roses, one to a junior, and one to a teacher. Of course, the actual numbers fluctuate with different class-to-class and class-to-faculty ratios. The roses to the underclassman say: Grow up well. Succeed. If we ever compete with each other as adults, make me work hard to defeat you. The roses to the teachers say: Thank you for a million things. They're supposed to go to people who mean something to you, and while this doesn't always happen, I got the two people who mean most to me. (Those, that is, that don't mean something more to someone else, since James drew the privilege of giving his rose to Holly, which I don't begrudge him.)

Now? Exams seem sort of silly. I'm ready to leave. I've found my place at school, just in time for it to be over, and I can't understand why I didn't get it sooner. Why James and I disliked each other, why I thought Michel was a prat, why I didn't just go out and lie in the sun every day, because it's so good to be there with people you love and not talk. Now I understand. So that means it's time to be moving on. One thing about love is that, once you figure out how it works, that's when you've got to leave it and start looking in other places.

Luckily, though, if I should feel any different about this, I now have four months of summer vacation to get through. Exams, then Senior Chapel, then Graduation, then James' party, then New York trip with Leah, then Smithsonian internship (I got an offer Friday), then QAS job to save up for a trip to visit Michel in Maine.

Life? Is so supremely good.

(Also note to self: Clean out school computer account of all files that should be saved. Then maybe you can finally send out a copy of that one Cultural Diversity paper that everyone wanted to see, you pillock.)

Erin

"And did you get what you wanted in this life even so?"
"I did."
"And what is it you wanted?"
"To call myself beloved. To feel myself beloved on the earth."
-Raymond Carver