I Love...School?
So, um...yesterday was my last day of school. Ever.
Before you read any further, put on Natasha Beddingfield's "Unwritten" or "Beautiful Day" or "Where The Streets Have No Name" by U2. Go. Do it.
Okay, are you ready? What the fuck. You didn't put the song on. Well, go do it. We'll all just wait for you.
Finally.
As I walked away from my last class, the sun was shining on campus for what was probably the ninth time in my five years here, and the breeze that whipped through the Spine wasn't the bitter gusts of old, but a cool brisk breeze that complimented the sunlight nicely, making my hoodie a necessity and not just a fashion accessory.
I passed the Union and found a live band playing outside, their music drifting up and around the building. It was sort of a jazz-pop fusion with a bit of bluesy goodness on top. I continued to walk, the music following me, the sun on my face, and soon found my car. With no parking ticket on my windshield for a change, I got in, rolled down the windows, and turned on the radio.
Beddingfield's "Unwritten" immediately came through my speakers, telling me, "...Open up the dirty window/ Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find/ Reaching for something in the distance/ So close you can almost taste it/ Release your inhibitions" and blah blah blah but here's the good part, "...Today is where your book begins/ The rest is still unwritten".
Now, seeing as I had already rolled down my very dirty window and the sun was now illuminating my car, if not some unfound words, how could I not feel this song swelling within me? That last part sounded slightly gross, but whatever. My heart swelled with the possibilities of this day, this last day, which somehow turns into the first page of the rest of my life.
And do I know what I'm doing this summer? No, sir. Do I know what I'm doing in the fall? No, madame. And the winter? Well, lord, I think you know the answer by now. It is most certainly unwritten.
I continued to drive, heading back to my apartment, feeling all the goodness of the day drift through my mind. I had hugged my favorite teacher and my masseuse/friend goodbye, seen two of the few friends I have left on campus, eaten a double cheeseburger from the BK Lounge (goddamn, they're good), and finished over half my finals. On my last day of school. Ever.
At this point, U2's "Beautiful Day" came on my radio and I thought, "Could it get more perfect?" Well, it turned out to be "Where The Streets Have No Name", but shit, it was still appropriate. And don't get in a huff. I don't know my U2 songs. I admit it.
And as whatever song it was continued to play, I wondered if I wasn't getting too far ahead of myself, rejoicing in a day that ended a huge portion of my life. Was I going to get depressed and over-nostalgic like I was (and in some ways, still am) over high school? Was I going to want to claw my way back into the halls of UB, aching for an easier time? Was I going to miss learning so much?
The answers, as I pondered them out, came to me as - Slightly. No. And really no.
And the answer to the titular question? No, I don't. But I might miss it a little.
Only a little.
Before you read any further, put on Natasha Beddingfield's "Unwritten" or "Beautiful Day" or "Where The Streets Have No Name" by U2. Go. Do it.
Okay, are you ready? What the fuck. You didn't put the song on. Well, go do it. We'll all just wait for you.
Finally.
As I walked away from my last class, the sun was shining on campus for what was probably the ninth time in my five years here, and the breeze that whipped through the Spine wasn't the bitter gusts of old, but a cool brisk breeze that complimented the sunlight nicely, making my hoodie a necessity and not just a fashion accessory.
I passed the Union and found a live band playing outside, their music drifting up and around the building. It was sort of a jazz-pop fusion with a bit of bluesy goodness on top. I continued to walk, the music following me, the sun on my face, and soon found my car. With no parking ticket on my windshield for a change, I got in, rolled down the windows, and turned on the radio.
Beddingfield's "Unwritten" immediately came through my speakers, telling me, "...Open up the dirty window/ Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find/ Reaching for something in the distance/ So close you can almost taste it/ Release your inhibitions" and blah blah blah but here's the good part, "...Today is where your book begins/ The rest is still unwritten".
Now, seeing as I had already rolled down my very dirty window and the sun was now illuminating my car, if not some unfound words, how could I not feel this song swelling within me? That last part sounded slightly gross, but whatever. My heart swelled with the possibilities of this day, this last day, which somehow turns into the first page of the rest of my life.
And do I know what I'm doing this summer? No, sir. Do I know what I'm doing in the fall? No, madame. And the winter? Well, lord, I think you know the answer by now. It is most certainly unwritten.
I continued to drive, heading back to my apartment, feeling all the goodness of the day drift through my mind. I had hugged my favorite teacher and my masseuse/friend goodbye, seen two of the few friends I have left on campus, eaten a double cheeseburger from the BK Lounge (goddamn, they're good), and finished over half my finals. On my last day of school. Ever.
At this point, U2's "Beautiful Day" came on my radio and I thought, "Could it get more perfect?" Well, it turned out to be "Where The Streets Have No Name", but shit, it was still appropriate. And don't get in a huff. I don't know my U2 songs. I admit it.
And as whatever song it was continued to play, I wondered if I wasn't getting too far ahead of myself, rejoicing in a day that ended a huge portion of my life. Was I going to get depressed and over-nostalgic like I was (and in some ways, still am) over high school? Was I going to want to claw my way back into the halls of UB, aching for an easier time? Was I going to miss learning so much?
The answers, as I pondered them out, came to me as - Slightly. No. And really no.
And the answer to the titular question? No, I don't. But I might miss it a little.
Only a little.