Al final and goodbyes
So it's done. I graduated. It's strange to think that four years have gone by. And at the same time, it seems exactly like four years have gone by. I guess the strange part is that just as I was beginning to enjoy myself, things needed to end. Saying goodbye is something that's always been kind of an issue for me. As much as I'd like to consider myself a nomad or a permanent traveler, I always have a hard time saying goodbye. It's the transitions that bother me, the in-between the ending and begining, the grey breath between the phases of life which cause me the most pain. Maybe it's because it is in those quiet pauses that we are forced to reflect on all that has happened, and understand that we are no longer who we thought we were. I can't possibly be turning 22 this year, I can't possibly have finished college. And yet, upon consideration, it all seems exactly as it should.
I'm not happy about graduating. I'm content, sure, and excited to move on with my life. But this bit, this last few seconds of college life I can't just give up. I opted to stay on campus overnight after graduation. My parents claim they don't see the point of my staying. Maybe it was a poor decision, but I just didn't feel closure this afternoon. Everything was so pre-planned, so rushed. I just needed time to come to terms with what is happening.
And so I stayed on campus. We had a bonfire. just like we used to freshman year, except much less complicated. Not a 20 minute walk deep into the glen, but a twenty second walk in a shallow clearing in the woods. Not a loud crowd of people, but a small silent gathering. It's strange how we all sat there, speaking softly if at all, watching things burn. There was nothing to say. Even our goodbyes at the end of the night were surreal, like goodbyes before summer vacation begins, with the certain knowledge of someday we'll see eachother again. I don't know if I'll ever see any of these people again. I want to believe that I will, that we'll all bump into eachother in some dive bar in lower manhattan, or at some concert somewhere. But I don't know if that's the reality. In a way it felt scripted, it's the same story i've been telling everyone "well i'm studying spoken word poetry as a reflection of society. I start in Canada, then South Africa then Australia..." and on and on. And they always say "oh that'll be great, you'll be fine." And I always mention how overwhelming it is, but also what a great honor.
So we sat, talking about our plans for the next year or staring off into the flames. The Gin Blossoms played softly through a cassette player that had to be kicked to work every once in a while. We talked about the mid-90s, about high school, and happy memories. I looked around the bonfire and realized that though we weren't a set group, I was surrounded by friends. It would be easier, I'm sure, if I had my crew. Then I'd know for certain who I would see and who I wouldn't. But I've always been a bit socially removed from Hamilton, and in a way it's fitting for me to just sort of fade away.
I drive home tomorrow. I won't be back on campus until 2009. Except when I do return, I will return having completed my fellowship, presenting my stories to whomever wants to listen.
Onward.
I'm not happy about graduating. I'm content, sure, and excited to move on with my life. But this bit, this last few seconds of college life I can't just give up. I opted to stay on campus overnight after graduation. My parents claim they don't see the point of my staying. Maybe it was a poor decision, but I just didn't feel closure this afternoon. Everything was so pre-planned, so rushed. I just needed time to come to terms with what is happening.
And so I stayed on campus. We had a bonfire. just like we used to freshman year, except much less complicated. Not a 20 minute walk deep into the glen, but a twenty second walk in a shallow clearing in the woods. Not a loud crowd of people, but a small silent gathering. It's strange how we all sat there, speaking softly if at all, watching things burn. There was nothing to say. Even our goodbyes at the end of the night were surreal, like goodbyes before summer vacation begins, with the certain knowledge of someday we'll see eachother again. I don't know if I'll ever see any of these people again. I want to believe that I will, that we'll all bump into eachother in some dive bar in lower manhattan, or at some concert somewhere. But I don't know if that's the reality. In a way it felt scripted, it's the same story i've been telling everyone "well i'm studying spoken word poetry as a reflection of society. I start in Canada, then South Africa then Australia..." and on and on. And they always say "oh that'll be great, you'll be fine." And I always mention how overwhelming it is, but also what a great honor.
So we sat, talking about our plans for the next year or staring off into the flames. The Gin Blossoms played softly through a cassette player that had to be kicked to work every once in a while. We talked about the mid-90s, about high school, and happy memories. I looked around the bonfire and realized that though we weren't a set group, I was surrounded by friends. It would be easier, I'm sure, if I had my crew. Then I'd know for certain who I would see and who I wouldn't. But I've always been a bit socially removed from Hamilton, and in a way it's fitting for me to just sort of fade away.
I drive home tomorrow. I won't be back on campus until 2009. Except when I do return, I will return having completed my fellowship, presenting my stories to whomever wants to listen.
Onward.
posted by Jessica @ 11:40 PM
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