Graduation Celebration!

Traditionally, during the first half of ever year, I have an excuse every month to not blog regularly. For January, I am re-entering the school year and there's really nothing to blog about except the weather, for February, I'm trapped under such a frigid blanket of cold even blogging about the weather seems ridiculous, by March I'm preparing for the-end-of-term rush, April I'm having the end-of-term rush, May I'm recovering from April, and June I'm recovering from the shame of having not accomplished in May everything I swore I would do after year-end in the middle of January. And also there are birthdays.

However, June is particularly bad this year because I've actually finished my degree (officially), and there have been such a dizzying onslaught of parties in my honour that I've managed to convince myself my life will soon resemble the opening scenes of the Great Gatsby trailer I've developed an unhealthy obsession with*.


For instance, last week there were no less than five parties held in honour of my graduation. Five! First, there was the Family Dinner in Honour of my Graduation. Then, there was My Sister's Birthday Party Which Was Clearly Actually Meant to be a Party in My Honour. After that I was treated to A Party Celebrating My Friend John's Graduation Which Was Clearly Really Meant to Celebrate MY Achievements. Then, I was shocked and delighted to discover that the Students of Science Association were so blown over by my ability to finish my BA that they commandeered the entire Buhler Centre to celebrate it, complete with bands, cake, and perplexing little alcoves arranged for the soul purpose of allowing partygoers to pose for flattering photos of themselves.

I was impressed by the amounts of strangers who would show up to celebrate my graduation, but then I was whisked off to the 90's Night Party in My Honour, where even more strangers gathered in a badly-lit basement to dance to 90's songs in celebration of ME, make out with each other (in my honour), and even stand on and then fall off of tables--all for me. It was about the time they started playing double dutch with strings of live Christmas lights (in celebration of ME) that I began to wonder if graduating isn't rather a dangerous thing for a person to do, and how long I would survive being a graduate if people insisted on flailing electrical wire and lightbulbs around me.

But then I remember that the first thing I did after walking out of convocation hall as a graduate was to make a beeline for the canopy where I was almost guaranteed to get a free plastic cup of room-temperature orange juice** (and then realized I should have probably waited to find my parents amongst the 1,000+ people streaming from the building), and I realize that my general survival instincts are still intact. A general sense of direction in which free things lie, and the determination to reach them before anyone else does. I think I'll do alright.


*Cloche hat and champagne forthcoming.
**It was actually a whole CAN of it. And bread!