kanye would be proud

So. Graduation. That was a thing that happened. I had commencement—presenting scrolls, a very long mass (because I go to a Catholic school but curiously am not religious myself), and a retrospectively very dangerous candle-lighting ceremony that involved giving each graduate a lit candle to process out of the commencement room with—on Friday night, with the big fun banquet with a dinner and dance Saturday evening. It all went swimmingly, and I had a lot of fun. Nobody’s hair caught on fire (amazing, considering the amount of hairspray and open flames in close proximity of each other in the room), only one girl tripped walking down the stage stairs after receiving her scroll, I had my first slow dance and my first father-daughter dance, and I got all the photos I could ever want with my friends. All in all, it was an A++ night. 

A whole bunch of kids went to the so-called “safe” grad after the banquet—it’s supposedly safe because all the attendees are driven to a secret location by bus and there’s a limit on the amount of alcohol permitted per person, with supposedly responsible chaperones looking on everywhere. It’s always said to be wild and crazy and fun, but since my idea of fun doesn’t coincide much with this plan I refrained from attending. I wouldn’t know if it actually was fun or not, but my friend told me that the party-goers were confined to a small summer camp building and a deck, that half the deck they were dancing on eventually collapsed, that there was only one port-a-potty for over two hundred people, and that the only food was three bags of chips and a dozen hot dogs. Usually, I think safe grad is a bigger success than this…for some reason, it just turned out to be a bust this year. Que sera sera, and all that. At least we all got a laugh out of imagining (or remembering) all the ridiculous stuff the after grad entailed. I loved checking out the impressions of the people who went on Facebook and Instagram and Twitter, because I’ve never been to a Real High School Party and can only gather info about ‘me from stuff like this. One safe grad attendee tweeted “Hello grad pd /01; ! We made ut!” at 2:53 AM. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. 

Me? I went to my friend’s house with nine of my other copains, where we played Cards Against Humanity and ate Swedish Berries and Ruffles All-Dressed chips until two-thirty in the morning. It was unabashedly awesome and nerdy/geeky/dorky, like my friends themselves. And the deck we were sitting on didn’t break (^_−)−☆

I think this all kind of gives the impression that I’m super cynical about high school parties, but the truth is that I’m not. I find them actually very interesting—almost captivating, in a way—because I’ve spent so long seeing so many movies and reading an endless list of books and watching a bajillion television shows that involve them and heard so many stories about all the unsupervised, quintessentially teenage craziness that goes on at them. I guess one image that comes to mind is the movie Kids—not for the actual parties which go on in it, but more for the atmosphere I imagine. 

My cousin says I don’t need to keep calling them high school parties because I’m in high school myself, but I can’t seem to kick the habit. It still seems more like an idealized concept from a film to me than a sweaty group of tipsy teens crammed into a house. In the end, I’ll finish my high school journey without ever having attended one, which means my conceptualized image of what such a party would be like will remain intact for a little longer. 

Here’s to the class of 2015! *cruises away blasting Kanye from a clunky boom box*


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Writes words mostly on the go. Lentils are life.

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