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| Our graduation song was composed by Karl Ragas and Jason Licerio. I'm the one looking lost right in front of the microphone. |
A lot has happened over the week, though most of the time I was sleepy enough to miss some important parts of my slowly unwinding life. Right now, actually, I'm feeling physically deprived of mucus-free sinuses and my eyes feel like they've been gouged out and are now being deep-fried (ketchup on the side, heh). So while I try to breathe normally through my semi-clogged nose, I shall narrate the events of the week:
Three days ago, I graduated from high school. Officially. My batch mates and I turned our tassels with hesitance and threw our mortarboards with euphoria. (Talk about bipolarity issues!) Although I had prepared myself for the Apocalypse via flooding tears by putting on waterproof mascara and wiping off thirty percent of my makeup before the commencement exercises, I never cried. I was immensely happy but melancholic at the same time. The sadness I felt wasn't depression, though; it was a rather positive kind, like the one you feel when you donate your toys to charity. You will miss them because they have been a big part of your childhood and have been with you while you were growing up, but you have to let them go ultimately, since you have your own life to lead and they cannot stay with you forever. Despite the departure, you are happy for them because they now belong to a place where they can be taken care of much better. I love my batch mates, more so the members of my senior section, and in the face of all the miles that will set us apart, the fact that they are important to me will remain unchanged. This I swear by my book collection and food pantry.
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| Apparently, I have no inert talent in throwing. Whereas others's mortarboards had a vertical trajectory, mine had an additional x-component. Am I smooth or what?! |
I also came to realize that I don't hate Rebecca Black. Yes, I feel sorry her. She's a thirteen-year-old whose parents ruefully signed their daughter to Ark Productions for about $2000 and who got a brain hemorrhage-inducing song for a single. Like, what? Mr. Patrice Williams heads Ark Productions, and I'm not saying he should be blamed for all the social mayhem because Rebecca Black did agree to singing the song, but he should have made an effort to write more acceptable lyrics, don't you think? I honestly don't get why someone should recount the days of the week in a song categorized under the pop music genre and not in the kids' songs section. It's a mild example of human trafficking!
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Before I forget, I'd like to remind everyone (especially those living in the aberrantly rainy Iloilo City) to take vitamin supplements as regularly as possible to avoid colds. During the graduation ceremony, it was raining, which could have been very dramatic if it weren't for our scrawny immune systems. You don't want to greet the month of April by sneezing "Hello!" out on a perfectly sunny day like I do. (This must be fate's idea of a cruel April Fools' Day joke to me.)
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