I still have my bag of pencils and pens from AP testing. Mostly because pencils and pens would get lost in the drawstring bag which has replaced my backpack. During one especially dull moment in class today, I started pushing some of the pencils through the side of the bag, poking little holes. With the mechanical pencils it was easy; they were small and just poked little holes. The regular pencils were harder.
None of my regular pencils were sharp (AP testing saw to that, and I was to lazy to sharpen them again). So, as I pushed them against the plastic of the bag, they wouldn't break straight through. They'd stretch the plastic around them, stretching and stretching until finally they popped through. So I made a game of it, to see how far I could stretch the bag without breaking it. The bad news is that now I have a plastic bag filled with pencil shaped holes which likes to leak the occasional pencil.
If you read the title, you're probably wondering where this is going (and reading what I just wrote, I could definitely go to some crazy places). When you're suffering the braincrush of senior year, and sitting in a dark classroom as a friend attempts to explain taxes, your brain wanders. Today, I started identifying with my pencils. I decided that that plastic bag was my world right now.
As you push the pencil, the plastic around it stretches. Everything strains to keep up with the change, to keep the bag from breaking and pencil from making it through. But the more you stretch, the thinner the plastic gets. The walls of that plastic bag, which had seemed so real, start to get flimsy and weak. What's going to happen next becomes more apparent with every millimeter, and more urgent because you've pretty much already poked this hole, so why stop now?
Then you start to realize that you're going to poke a hole in that bag. After that you'll pretty much have to throw it out, because that hole will just get bigger. You start to regret pushing the pencil as far as you have, but there's no turning back now. Finally the pencil breaks through and you have a little moment that sits somewhere between "mission accomplished" and "what the hell did I do that for?" In the little world of that bag, the goal was getting that pencil to poke through. But why? Why did that matter? Why was that what you wanted? Have you really accomplished something, or have you just screwed up something that was good? Who even cares--you'll get a better bag in a little bit.
Don't worry though, this kind of introspection lasts about half a second. Then I get to work on another hole. And another, and another, until the bell rings for me to leave. Because, what else is there to do?
Monday, May 23, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Now It Feels Real
I'm going to college. I've known that for a while now, but now it's starting to feel real. First there was touring, but that didn't mean much. Then I applied, and that was a total timesuck. Then, on and around April 1st I found out where I got in. That was a stressful, hectic, but ultimately good time. But it still didn't feel real, because I still had to make my decision. May 1st was the decision deadline, and you'd have thought that after that I'd be set and ready, but I had a waitlist sitting at the back of my mind reminding me that there was still some shred of uncertainty about my next four years.
Well, no more uncertainty. I know where I'm going, I've paid my deposit, and I've registered for orientation. I've even put in my advisor request, and found myself a roommate. I've got my school apparel and a nice drawstring which has replaced my backpack. AP exams are over and my work is petering out; I'm settling into that awesome groove between high school and the beginning of the rest of my life. My time now is spent enjoying friends, doing what little work my teachers use to justify teaching after APs are over (the Stranger is an excellent book though), and counting down the days until I say goodbye to high school.
Every day, as I cross out another day on the calendar that counts down to June 22nd, I look at that dwindling number with a mixture of joy, ruefulness, excitement, and apprehension. A new chapter in my life will soon be starting, but this one isn't quite over yet, and there are definitely still some plot lines that need to be tied up. As much as I hate to say it, there will be things I'll miss about high school; people, classes, experiences. And to be honest, high school's essentially all I've known for the past few years of my life (outside of the few summer forays into other environments), and jumping into college will be a whole lot of change all at once.
Knowing that this change is coming has some weird side effects. Have you ever experienced the moment when everything shifts, and you feel as if the earth has started spinning in a new direction? Or at least, from where you're standing, you feel like you've suddenly become a stranger to your own life? I imagine that it's like the first time you experience an earthquake; the most permanent thing you know starts to shake. That's what it feels like to know that in a few months I'll be saying goodbye to high school, almost everyone I've known throughout my life, and the only place I've ever called home.
Besides that crazy sense that everything is changing faster than I can even recognize it, there's this crushing lack of motivation that comes with knowing that pretty much nothing that I do now will change much of anything. They call it senioritis, and it is definitely contagious. It's just hard to take anything high school--high school classes, high school drama, high school work--seriously when you know that in a few months you'll be in college, in the big leagues.
So the question that's staring me in the face is: now what? How do I kill these remaining months? How do I squeeze every last drop of awesome out of what's left? How do solve this paradox of wanting so badly to go to college while wanting so badly not to leave my friends? And what color bedspread should I get? Actually, the last one really doesn't matter to me (I think I've already got a bedspread), but it's definitely a pressing question for some of my friends.
From what I can tell, the best answer is just to enjoy senior year as hard as possible. Take the risks you've been afraid to take: cut class, write the paper that you want to write rather than the one you think you should write, go for that person you've been thinking about. Because as much as senior year is a willpower crusher, it also liberates you. In college no one will remember if you made a fool of yourself at a party, or embarrassed yourself in front of your friends. Take the chance to talk to people you've never thought to talk to before; worst case scenario you never talk to them again, and maybe you'll make a new friend. Now more than ever you can drop the act and be who you want to be, consequence-free (relatively).
Most of all, I'm going to savor every moment that I get with the amazing people that I call my friends. This year more than any other I've realized that my friends are incredibly intelligent, talented, motivated, creative, fun, funny, and sincere, and are honestly some of the nicest people I've ever met. Soon we'll have to say goodbye, and I'm sure that each of us will build new networks of friends who are just as great as the ones we have now, but for now I just want to enjoy the people I've spent the better part of my life getting to know.
I'm not sure what move in day will be like for me, but I am sure of one thing: that even though I'll be done with high school, part of it will still stay with me. I just hope it's the good part, and not the part where I have to wake up at 6 am.
Well, no more uncertainty. I know where I'm going, I've paid my deposit, and I've registered for orientation. I've even put in my advisor request, and found myself a roommate. I've got my school apparel and a nice drawstring which has replaced my backpack. AP exams are over and my work is petering out; I'm settling into that awesome groove between high school and the beginning of the rest of my life. My time now is spent enjoying friends, doing what little work my teachers use to justify teaching after APs are over (the Stranger is an excellent book though), and counting down the days until I say goodbye to high school.
Every day, as I cross out another day on the calendar that counts down to June 22nd, I look at that dwindling number with a mixture of joy, ruefulness, excitement, and apprehension. A new chapter in my life will soon be starting, but this one isn't quite over yet, and there are definitely still some plot lines that need to be tied up. As much as I hate to say it, there will be things I'll miss about high school; people, classes, experiences. And to be honest, high school's essentially all I've known for the past few years of my life (outside of the few summer forays into other environments), and jumping into college will be a whole lot of change all at once.
Knowing that this change is coming has some weird side effects. Have you ever experienced the moment when everything shifts, and you feel as if the earth has started spinning in a new direction? Or at least, from where you're standing, you feel like you've suddenly become a stranger to your own life? I imagine that it's like the first time you experience an earthquake; the most permanent thing you know starts to shake. That's what it feels like to know that in a few months I'll be saying goodbye to high school, almost everyone I've known throughout my life, and the only place I've ever called home.
Besides that crazy sense that everything is changing faster than I can even recognize it, there's this crushing lack of motivation that comes with knowing that pretty much nothing that I do now will change much of anything. They call it senioritis, and it is definitely contagious. It's just hard to take anything high school--high school classes, high school drama, high school work--seriously when you know that in a few months you'll be in college, in the big leagues.
So the question that's staring me in the face is: now what? How do I kill these remaining months? How do I squeeze every last drop of awesome out of what's left? How do solve this paradox of wanting so badly to go to college while wanting so badly not to leave my friends? And what color bedspread should I get? Actually, the last one really doesn't matter to me (I think I've already got a bedspread), but it's definitely a pressing question for some of my friends.
From what I can tell, the best answer is just to enjoy senior year as hard as possible. Take the risks you've been afraid to take: cut class, write the paper that you want to write rather than the one you think you should write, go for that person you've been thinking about. Because as much as senior year is a willpower crusher, it also liberates you. In college no one will remember if you made a fool of yourself at a party, or embarrassed yourself in front of your friends. Take the chance to talk to people you've never thought to talk to before; worst case scenario you never talk to them again, and maybe you'll make a new friend. Now more than ever you can drop the act and be who you want to be, consequence-free (relatively).
Most of all, I'm going to savor every moment that I get with the amazing people that I call my friends. This year more than any other I've realized that my friends are incredibly intelligent, talented, motivated, creative, fun, funny, and sincere, and are honestly some of the nicest people I've ever met. Soon we'll have to say goodbye, and I'm sure that each of us will build new networks of friends who are just as great as the ones we have now, but for now I just want to enjoy the people I've spent the better part of my life getting to know.
I'm not sure what move in day will be like for me, but I am sure of one thing: that even though I'll be done with high school, part of it will still stay with me. I just hope it's the good part, and not the part where I have to wake up at 6 am.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
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