If I could write a general yearbook entry, this would be it.

So, we graduate in a few hours. Who would have thought? Everyone, actually. A card from one of my uncles read: "Congrats - but we kind of expected you to make it this far." True.
And so now I'm cleaning my room (or will be when I'm finished typing this), because I haven't been able to sleep on my bed for the past two weeks or so. A pile of crap, but meaningful crap if you're like me and sentimental about the most random material things. I can't throw things away because I want to use them; my excuse is that I just haven't found the right thing to use them for yet.
My mother understands, to a point. She has accepted my pack-rat tendencies, but doesn't like the fact that my bedroom is unlivable (to say the least). She also probably wouldn't be too happy that I'm sitting on her computer in the middle of the day wearing sweats and sipping orange juice, and not doing anything about the aforementioned pile of crap.
You won't see my cry tonight, or at all this summer (I speculate). Don't think I'm not going to miss you and don't take it personally. I just don't cry. My goal, though, will be to ride a mile for everyone this summer. Yay for bikes! Not just the graduates - everyone who's helped me suck it up the past eighteen years, everyone who's passed on words of advice, everyone who's held the door open for me, everyone who's made me laugh (or laughed at me - it's nice to have an audience), everyone who's told me to shut up and everyone who's told me to keep talking. You know who you are, or you don't, maybe. This is untagged for a reason. Thanks, and you won't be forgotten.
So, brief flashback to awards night. A painful experience, from boredom, as well as calloused hands from clapping so much and aching legs from crossing them the whole time (dress, in the front row...what was I thinking?). And how exciting! The Prowler Award! Who didn't see that one coming? Although there wasn't a mix tape in there (a massive journal and a book about how to save the world, if you really wanted to know), Barra did write me a nice note that only Barra could write. What struck me most about his note was at the end, he wrote in all caps: "ACHIEVE GREATNESS" and then he put a big X through the second word and wrote "happiness and greatness" - and I nodded my head in agreement.
Because yes, you should try to achieve greatness. You should want to make an impact on your world because, let's face it, you only live once (unless you believe in reincarnation?). You should touch as many lives as possible and do something with your life. It's like...Voldemort (hahaha Kendell! I just thought about yesterday!) put his soul into a bunch of different things or whatever. A horcrux or something? (Sorry for making HP references...but it's something pretty much everyone has read so cut me some slack.) It isn't really a mythical object (maybe the bit about splitting your soul); we make them all the time. Sappy, but true. Things remind us of other things that remind us of people and the time spent with them. Nothing magical about it.
BUT none of that matters if you don't love what you do, if you don't enjoy life. When we are happy, when we are at that almost indescribable place in our lives between contentment and bliss, that is when we find great ideas.
That was a really random, but I suppose somewhat important, rant. Congrats, class of '08 - like my uncle, I sort of expected it of you. We're moving on now, to new things, but we're always moving on. If life stayed the same, if we stayed in the same place in the same time with the same people, no happiness, no great ideas, no greatness, would come of it.
Last words of advice? Live. And if you need a break from life, grab a book; it's as close as you can get to the real thing.

Kids.

"You know how life is so confusing and boring and stressful when you're a teenager?"
*Laughs.*
"What?"
"Well, it only gets worse."
"...Yea."

Trying to figure out what meant the most.

The trouble is, I didn't cry. While the rest of the bus was bawling and passing Cadbury around like a peace-pipe, I stared out the window and watched the landscape dissolve in the rain. John Lennon sang his heart out in the concert in my head and I mindlessly sat and watched as the bus rolled on. I felt a bit numb, to be honest, as if I had just undergone major surgery and hadn't felt the piercing pain just yet.

The trouble is, when we boarded the plane, when we drove home in Bridgewater, when I woke up on the couch the next morning, on my couch, the painkillers still hadn't worn off.

I was sad, inconsolably sad, but I didn't cry, and I didn't talk about it. I didn't do much of anything. I sat in my Jack Wills polo, watching BBC, eating Cheerios, for a solid twenty hours.

But why? Why did I feel this way? I had been gone for less than two weeks, and I was home now.

The trouble is, I wasn't home.

It's the sort of sensation people experience when they discover they have been in love forever, and only realize it after they have parted. There isn't one particular moment that meant more than others. The moments build up on top of each other in a tetris fashion until you reach Game Over, and suddenly, those moments are gone. The snippets of memories don't quiet fit together, and looking back, you see all that wasted space between the blocks. And your finger hovers above the New Game button on the screen.

As a self-classified newspaper person, I have to use verbs. Everyone knows verbs are the most important. Verbs are actions, and actions are stories. But at the moment, I'm thinking in nouns. The people, the places, the things - some proper, some not so much.

I have a theory about traveling. Whenever you go somewhere, you leave a bit of yourself behind; in a "Where's Waldo" sense, you lose your hat, your socks, your bag. When someone goes to find you, they can only find half of you. The other half is scattered across the page of a beach scene / museum / train station / mountain top.

It would seem that this is a somewhat incomprehensible piece of writing. I think that it's okay, though. Love letters are only meant for two people. Or in this case, a person and a country.

Thinking...

Today, I woke up at noon, ate a waffle, and sent myself an email. Then I read a book (not for school), contemplated doing the numerous assignments that are due tomorrow, and added a few lines to my epic poem (again, not for school).

I don't do holidays very well. I tend to get sick (and by sick, I mean overworked, stressed, and exhausted) and sleep through all the drinking and shouting and partying. Last New Years Eve (2006), I took some NyQuil and was out by 8 pm. I never saw 2007 coming.

So now, I'm trying to remember things that happened the past twelve months. I have a few very vivid memories, a few fuzzy ones, and a few that I know I should have, but in all honesty, don't. I'm not going to write them all down - for those of you who were there for this and that and that and this, you know. It was a pretty kick ass year.

But 2008 is our year. Last night, I didn't sleep through it. I didn't put up a fight when my keys were stolen, but opted to walk around a neighborhood with friends singing, strumming guitars, and hitting pots. I didn't actually participate in the noise-making, but I was there. Progress? Perhaps.

Something interesting has happened with the newspaper this year. I know people are groaning, looking at this, but I have to write it down, because it's interesting, and all interesting things need to be written down at some point or another. People are talking. People are thinking. People are looking around and wondering and processing and writing. People are writing and people are reading. And that's important to note.

I started my new dayplanner this morning. It's pretty and London-themed and it's blank pages smell so good. I have a thing for paper.

Anyway, just wanted to put that out there. Happy '08, everyone. Good luck with your resolutions. Good luck with midterms and finals. Good luck with your college search. Have fun. Enjoy yourselves. But keep thinking. Don't totally lose it. Be smart. Consider things. Ask questions. Do stupid things, but know that they're stupid going in. That's my advice.

This is 2008. Happy New Year.

Pas de deux.

Oh. My.

DNE.

You don't have to apologize. It's not like you had anything to do with it.

I'm not upset.

But all I can think about is how he and Nikolai are the same person. And that I missed my only chance to become Kitty.

I want to tear out these pages and bury them with the casket.

Pain in my ass.

Seriously. Pulled a muscle on my bike. Argh.

In other news, sorely disappointed by the end of HP. Well, can't say I didn't see it coming, but still disappointed. I was expecting something really awesome! And it wasn't so much so. Talking to Kathleen and this is what I think SHOULD have happened: "Dudley had this kid, and the kid started to do magic. It beat the crap out of Harry's kid [one of them - take your pick], who ended up being a squib [though I'm sure they loved him anyway]. Hagrid won the lottery and bought a Quidditch team made solely of dragons. The Weasleys were still pretty poor but they're always a jolly bunch anyway. Voldy's dead now, but he's having a grand old time kicking Satan out of Hell and taking over things down there. Neville's toad showed up and it ended up being Dumbledore all along. But then it was almost run over by the Hogwart's Express. Harry's kid [the squib] jumped and saved it, but was knocked unconscious by the magic train. When he was revived by Neville and Luna's kid, he was a wizard all of a sudden! But then he died. But the toad was okay. Damn, Dumbledore's old. So I guess he dies again anyway. And Harry and Dumbledore can no longer continue their 'strange relationship'...and then Mrs. Weasley kicks more ass. Because she's just waaaaaay cool. Oh, and then Dudley's kid stops picking on the dead Potter boy and beats the crap out of Draco's kid. What can I say? He had it coming."

See, something like that could go on FOREVER. And it's more exciting, I think. Maybe not. I just think there are so many better ways to end the series. But hey, she's the writer, and I respect that.

On the other hand...

I'm going to go send a "howler" right now.

It's been a while...

Life is crazy. Although, not really. Summer's quite dull.

But you can all be jealous of me in the fall because I'll be going to ENGLAND!!!!!

Check out my bike blog: writeturnonred.blogspot.com

...because I said so.

Oh, another link for today. If I were stranded on a island, what one thing would I bring with me? This --> http://www.treehugger.com/files/2007/07/bookinist_crazy.php

Fully stocked, of course.

Two words.

Eyebrow fuzz.

Ewwwww. And not so much.

Pelting eggs at Mr. Davis pretty much made my day, as did beating up Mike during ninth period. He didn't deserve it, but he did.

I growl at all you sick, sick people.

At least I gained a new pseudonym out of the ordeal.

Ha.