(no subject)
As the final days approached we snapped up the pictures and told the old stories time and again, and though I was sad, sometimes it was for the wrong reasons and sometimes I was faking it. Still, leaving high school was emotional, and though I never have to go back again, it's not over. Nothing is ever over; life seems to resemble space travel. You can escape the atmosphere, but the gravitational field will always pull on you in some way. If I got my science wrong, pardon me, and please just try to take it for what it's worth.
There are people who I will be terribly sad to not see again, or even just to see on a occasional basis when our paths cross here and there. Destrehan High School will always remind me of the freezing gymnasiums I sat reflectivly in as I waited for my PE teacher to walk down the line and record attendance, just as well as the sweaty, dusty woodshop where we contested in slap boxing and who could punch through the thickest wood plank. I'll remember the schoolbus, sticky and uncomfortable in the muggy heat of September mornings, yet raucous with laughter at the end of another day. The sweet southern girls I loved from both near and afar will always have a place in my heart, and I think it will be a long time before I part with the American history books whose pages were once so wet from my yellow pen. I'll take all this away with me, along with all the places I hung out at lunchtime and all the friends that I grew to love there.
Sometimes I was so uncomfortable with Destrehan High School, and it may be best that I now have that distance I wanted so much sometimes. The notion that this represents the end of when I can justifiably act as a "kid', and when, rather I like it or not, I must become an adult, is precarious. The sense of responsibility that I am inheriting is something that's hard to know how to feel about, but I'm leaning towards excitement. On the final day of school, after senior project had been finished and the textbooks turned in, my friends and I took an ambling drive through New Orleans and as we made ridiculous gestures at the people in the cars we passed, I felt the kind of excitement incurred by just driving in a car (usually to fast) and listening to music (usually to loud) that made me feel as though I was in sophomore year again. Later that night, as we poured over our Southern Comfort and Coca Cola, I wondered if this was to be the last hurrah of my childhood experience. However, a few days later when we ran wild and giddy through the Palace, hours and hours before the premier of the new Star Wars, I knew it wasn't over yet. So that takes me back to the force field analogy, but it isn't really the same.
I always thought I had you one better, but I guess you thought the same. Neither of us were right.
Oh Destrehan, you'll forget me but I'll remember you.
There are people who I will be terribly sad to not see again, or even just to see on a occasional basis when our paths cross here and there. Destrehan High School will always remind me of the freezing gymnasiums I sat reflectivly in as I waited for my PE teacher to walk down the line and record attendance, just as well as the sweaty, dusty woodshop where we contested in slap boxing and who could punch through the thickest wood plank. I'll remember the schoolbus, sticky and uncomfortable in the muggy heat of September mornings, yet raucous with laughter at the end of another day. The sweet southern girls I loved from both near and afar will always have a place in my heart, and I think it will be a long time before I part with the American history books whose pages were once so wet from my yellow pen. I'll take all this away with me, along with all the places I hung out at lunchtime and all the friends that I grew to love there.
Sometimes I was so uncomfortable with Destrehan High School, and it may be best that I now have that distance I wanted so much sometimes. The notion that this represents the end of when I can justifiably act as a "kid', and when, rather I like it or not, I must become an adult, is precarious. The sense of responsibility that I am inheriting is something that's hard to know how to feel about, but I'm leaning towards excitement. On the final day of school, after senior project had been finished and the textbooks turned in, my friends and I took an ambling drive through New Orleans and as we made ridiculous gestures at the people in the cars we passed, I felt the kind of excitement incurred by just driving in a car (usually to fast) and listening to music (usually to loud) that made me feel as though I was in sophomore year again. Later that night, as we poured over our Southern Comfort and Coca Cola, I wondered if this was to be the last hurrah of my childhood experience. However, a few days later when we ran wild and giddy through the Palace, hours and hours before the premier of the new Star Wars, I knew it wasn't over yet. So that takes me back to the force field analogy, but it isn't really the same.
I always thought I had you one better, but I guess you thought the same. Neither of us were right.
Oh Destrehan, you'll forget me but I'll remember you.