Look at you, you're growing old so young...
I kept expecting someone to try and stop me.
From October until two days ago, every time I filled out a form or had someone hunt for my name on a list, I expected there to be obstacles. To hear "I'm sorry, there's been some sort of mistake...you're not going to be graduating next year."
But it never happened. I filled out more forms, I waited as people found my name on lists, I got letter upon letter, I picked up my gown and hood without issue, my name was in the program- right where it was supposed to be, and they handed me my degree. And there it was, in a seriffed font that looks oddly like plain old Times New Roman, accompanied by a gold seal and digitized signatures.
Without any real hassles on the day of the ceremony, without anyone standing in the way to claim that it was all a mistake, I finally shook the hand of our University's president and graduated.
The opening speech concentrated on the importance of art in society, with an emphasis on the environment. The artist who was receiving an honourary doctorate gave us a top 10 list, in the style of David Letterman. The graduates did the wave while we were anxiously waiting for the whole thing to start. We clapped and hollered for each other, the drama students screamed and supported each other in a way that really only drama students understand. It was much less stuffy and boring than I expected it to be, but I would've known that if I'd have thought it through- you can't stick that many arts students in one stadium and be bored stiff.
There was no tripping, no stuttering, no blacking out. I got my alumni pin afterwards and went on my merry way, out to a lovely dinner with Dad at a fancy Italian restaurant. I had a great time with friends that night, and now I've returned home and it feels...normal. I don't feel like rebelling or fighting it, or any sense of surreality. This is just how things are, and probably how they were supposed to be.
I guess, that is to say, I'm a graduate. I'm a grown-up. And I'm good with that. :)
From October until two days ago, every time I filled out a form or had someone hunt for my name on a list, I expected there to be obstacles. To hear "I'm sorry, there's been some sort of mistake...you're not going to be graduating next year."
But it never happened. I filled out more forms, I waited as people found my name on lists, I got letter upon letter, I picked up my gown and hood without issue, my name was in the program- right where it was supposed to be, and they handed me my degree. And there it was, in a seriffed font that looks oddly like plain old Times New Roman, accompanied by a gold seal and digitized signatures.
Without any real hassles on the day of the ceremony, without anyone standing in the way to claim that it was all a mistake, I finally shook the hand of our University's president and graduated.
The opening speech concentrated on the importance of art in society, with an emphasis on the environment. The artist who was receiving an honourary doctorate gave us a top 10 list, in the style of David Letterman. The graduates did the wave while we were anxiously waiting for the whole thing to start. We clapped and hollered for each other, the drama students screamed and supported each other in a way that really only drama students understand. It was much less stuffy and boring than I expected it to be, but I would've known that if I'd have thought it through- you can't stick that many arts students in one stadium and be bored stiff.
There was no tripping, no stuttering, no blacking out. I got my alumni pin afterwards and went on my merry way, out to a lovely dinner with Dad at a fancy Italian restaurant. I had a great time with friends that night, and now I've returned home and it feels...normal. I don't feel like rebelling or fighting it, or any sense of surreality. This is just how things are, and probably how they were supposed to be.
I guess, that is to say, I'm a graduate. I'm a grown-up. And I'm good with that. :)