I Graduated. Now What?

One week has transpired since I graduated from high school, and I have had one very important epiphany: it's really hard to remember what day it is when you aren't going to school or work every day. That is why this post is coming out on a Saturday instead of my standard Friday. I actually forgot it was Friday until it was too late. Go me.

Even so, I'm fascinated by the emotional journey I've been subjected to in the last week. This is roughly how my thought process tracked through the first few days:

Day 1 (Graduation): Wow, this is so nice! We actually did it!
Day 2: I'm going to take a day off. I'd say I earned it.
Day 3: I suppose I should start trying to be proactive now. Where's something to do?
Day 4:  Wait... it's Monday... NO SCHOOL! YES!
Day 5: I'm never going to see any of my friends again...
Day 6: There's still social media, right? *logs on to various networks* Hey, wait a second... am I the only one who didn't go on a senior trip? How come I didn't get invited?
Day 7: You mean I actually have time to pursue my hobbies now?
Day 8: Nope, cancel that. I work six days next week.

And here we are.

That said, I'd like to point out that I did actually accomplish some things in the past week. I think I'll list some of them for you. Perhaps it'll give someone ideas on what to do with all this extra time we've inherited, now that we've graduated. But mostly because I just like lists.

Things I Did After Graduation

1. Got a job (lifeguarding, to be specific. Gotta work on that tan. Actually, I don't tan. I just get less white.)
2. Cleaned off my desk at home. I might actually use it, now that school's over. (I had a tendency to do homework wherever I was when I opened my backpack--usually the living room floor.)
3. Cleaned some more in several other rooms in the house. Mostly mine. I don't think it's been fully cleaned since elementary school.
4. Yard work! Garden planting, lawn mowing...trying to make my skin change from translucent to opaque...
5. Learned to cook some things I enjoy eating (hard core college survival skills, right there. I'm going to need to be a master of making something other than pie. I am good at pie.)
6. Started writing another book (and no, I am definitely not one of those people who starts a hundred books and winds up with a pile of Chapter Ones. I'll cover that in a later post.)

So that's basically it. I was expecting to get through graduation and discover my all-new adult self, but much to my dismay I'm still me. Apparently there is no switch to pull to turn you into a responsible adult. I suppose the best thing one can do is apply oneself and hope for the best. I've found that persistence trumps everything, so with luck I'll get the hang of this post-graduation thing pretty soon. We'll see what strange foods I'm cooking next week.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Spread Your Wings And... Fall?

Today, I graduated from high school. Graduation means a lot of things to a lot of people, but for me, it's the culmination of thirteen years of exhausting work. After this, I never have another day of public school again, and that's just fine with me.

The ceremony was especially interesting because as a French horn player, I was duty-bound to play in the orchestra onstage. Let me just point out to you that it is very difficult to provide the music at graduation whilst simultaneously graduating. Fortunately, it went smoother than I expected.

Apart from that, I realized that the real beauty of the ceremony lies in how it brings people together. I bumped into a lot of friends from way back in elementary school, most of whom I haven't seen much the last few years, and we picked it up like it was yesterday. It felt natural, that the people we started with should be the people we ended with.

Me and my long-lost crowd of elementary school homies

Plus, I got balloons! And who doesn't like balloons? Okay, maybe I have a strange fascination with them that most others lack, but they're still nice. When they behave, that is.

Balloons!

When balloons refuse to comply with your wishes. Dirty rebels.

Okay, at this point the balloons are winning.

I could go on talking about the ceremony, all the extra honorary things I wore over my gown, the strange mix of emotions associated with the event and all that other graduation junk, but today that's not my focus. I'll likely talk about school withdrawal and post-graduation depression in a week or two, but today I've set about to provide you with a meaty philosophy nugget, and that's what I'm going to do.

One of the speakers at the ceremony (a friend of mine, I might add) made the point that "if you're careful enough, nothing good or bad will ever happen to you." I let that sink in for a moment, then heard another bit that's just as good: be more afraid of mediocrity than failure. Now combine that with the theme for this year's graduation, "fortune favors him who dares," and you've got a pretty nice thesis going. They all encourage us to take risks, because risks lead to greater rewards.

During the speeches, a teacher at my school was quoted, saying "spread your wings and soar." The story behind said teacher's incessant eagle metaphors is deserving of its own post, so I might do that later. But essentially, if you combine all of these, you get go out and try something, because even if you fail, at least you're not mediocre. That appeals to me, because as a Reject I've tried and failed at plenty of things, and I think it's really the only way to get things done in life.

So this is what I leave you with: Go out and fail at something. That seems like a really weird piece of advice, and I'll admit that it is, but growing accustomed to trying things no matter how impossible the odds are will lead you to greater success in the long run. Who knows? If you keep trying, you just might accomplish something amazing.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

That Empty Locker Feeling

With only one week left of high school now, the end-of-year procedures have begun, and the nostalgia is hitting hard. AP tests are over, meaning the pressure has been removed from most of my classes, and what remains shouldn't be too hard. Seeing as I essentially only have a stats project left to do (really a glorified free-response problem), I've had some time to think the deep thoughts.

Today was locker clean-out. That's normally a joyous occasion, signifying the end of the work and a beginning of summer. It's one half of a cycle; you find your locker at the beginning of the year, and empty it at the end. In practice, however, clean-out seems to come first, and new lockers second. This is because the distance between clean-out and new locker is only three months, whereas the distance between new locker and clean-out is nine months. The two events serve less as bookends to the school year as they do for the summer. The summer begins with emptying your locker, and ends with getting a shiny new one.

My problem is that this time, the summer won't end with a new locker. I don't get to look forward to returning to old friends, perfecting my paths across the school and embracing my higher status in the school hierarchy. This time, it's over. This is it. At the end of this summer, I won't be returning to someplace familiar, someplace that has become a part of me through all the laughter and tears. I'll be in a whole new place, far from home, in a sea of strangers, trying to navigate the world I've been dropped into.

That realization is what led me to understand the true significance of my locker. This year, I didn't use it for much. In fact, I put my physics textbook in it on the first day of school, and didn't open it again until I needed to stash my lunch during AP tests two weeks ago. Why, then, should I be sad about letting it go?

The truth is, a locker isn't just a locker. I could've kept my physics book at home. Some would argue that I should have (though I assure you I have excelled in the class without it). I put that book in my locker because I didn't want it to be empty. My schedule did not require that I use it as extensively as I have in previous years, but I wanted to keep something in it anyway. A locker provides a sense of place, a feeling of belonging. It's your spot in the school, a link that ties you to the environment where you spend the craziest years you've ever lived through (thus far, of course). Having something in my locker made me feel that I had a place there. It was a sort of anchor, not something I consciously thought about, but something that was always there. And I think that subconscious stability helped me through what I believe to be my hardest year of school.

That's why it was painful for me to turn the knob and pull the lever for the last time, to take that dusty physics book back to the school library. When I walked away from that locker, I severed my last tangible tie to my school.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it's almost over. I never loved school, homework or getting up before dawn for swim practice. But this is the place where I've practically lived for years. This is where I've been through the good times and bad, growing up and learning new things, and trying to figure out who I am. This is where I met half my friends, and I know that there are some I'll likely never see again. All these things are integral parts of my high school experience. Those memories are tied to this place, and my locker is my slice of that place. It's a symbol of my identity.

So without a locker, what am I? In the past I've identified as a swimmer, a musician, a nerd. Those are all things connected to high school, and without that, what's left? All external sources of self-definition have been removed, and the next time I walk into a classroom, I'll have nothing to tell me what I am. This time, I'll have to discover what I'm really made of. And at the end of the day, once the dust settles, I can tell you I'm excited to find out.

Hic Manebimus Optime.