Graduation

Holy shit.
I'm graduating from high school tomorrow. All my boys are doing just that in four hours.
How did we get here? Weren't we just scared freshmen, testing the waters, trying to find a niche? How did we get to be the ones walking down the aisle to receive diplomas?
I just can't quite wrap my mind around the idea of actually graduating. For so long, I've been dying to get out - out of the forty minute blocks, out of the libary, out of the monotony, out of the barriers of Chestnut Hill and all its expectations. Dying to get to New York and start to live. But now that the moment is actually here, it's bittersweet (isn't everything?). I'm excited to be on my way to the next chapter of my life, but I'm heartbroken to say goodbye to so many things here. Goodbye to my underclassmen, to my teachers, to the library nook, to the palm tree, to those moments that have been defining me all along without my knowing. I guess we never know how much something has changed us until it's over and we can take a astep back and observe ourselves more objectively. Springside has taught me confidence, strength, independence, as well as a lot of stuff about history, math, science (ok, not really that), french, latin, english, music, dance, theatre. I have been irreversably changed by so many people in this tiny community, and I'm forever grateful for everything I've learned. So I'll shed some tears as I walk away tomorrow, but I'll know that I can face the things to come because of this place.

Rest In Peace

On Sunday, the most wonderful cat you'll ever meet died. My cat Monty was deranged and amazing. He had twenty-eight toes. He was addicted to catnip. He was near-sighted. He attacked his dry kibble before eating it. His purr could be heard a mile away. He was huge and cuddly and made every sad moment happy just by coming up and nuzzling against you. When we got him, he was scraggly and scared - he spent the first twenty four hours here behind a radiator meowing. He never got quite normal, but he was loving and gentle (even when he was bitng your face at three am). He's really the first pet I've lost. I didn't really have much of a relationship with my hampster, and the two cats I've had who have died were old and sick and we put them to sleep. This wasn't Monty's time. He had so many more years of purring left for him. Everything seems a little bit more empty with him gone.