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No skool ;_;
Jun. 8th, 2003 10:53 pmHere is what I'm supposed to give for my Speech final. If I'm lucky, I won't have to. I just finished WRITING it today 0_o. Someone told me I was a slacker last night at around 2 am when I wanted to write this. I THINK THIS TESTIFIES FOR IT. Actually, I think it's more "senioritis". Gah, my time management was BETTER last year, really ~_~. We have 8 seniors who are doing speeches tomorrow. I doubt we can get through them all. And don't make fun of my butterfly metaphor >:o.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like a senior. Really, I remember the beginning of this year in English class when we had to write a letter to our teacher describing ourselves and our lives, I wrote that I don’t feel like a senior. Most people who didn’t know me always guessed I was a Junior, I was always with people younger than me. Now, nine months later, I really don’t know how far I’ve gone. The only distinction I really see between lower classmen and myself is that I’m leaving in a matter of days , I’m going off somewhere, and everyone else gets to stay behind. So the genuine truth is that I don’t want to go. I don’t want to spread my wings and fly far from here, I’d like to stay inside my little cocoon, still trying to grow those wings that are supposed to set me free.
When I look back at it, I realize that indeed my metaphoric wings have taken long to develop. I’ve always been immature, enjoying hobbies most kids my age weren’t into. Pokemon, for instance, kept my attention throughout most of high school. While other students lobbied around the quad at lunch to listen to the music and contests of all sorts, I was more into chasing people around and trying to throw them into bushes, a process I called “bushing”, and doing “the daily splatter”, a tradition that involved throwing food against the “sacred wall” and seeing how well it splattered. It was only the second half of this year when the hard facts about my graduation were pressed upon me that I began to rethink my actions during school in a sort of depression. I don’t know where I’m headed in life, I don’t know what I’ve learned in high school, and I don’t know what will become of me. While everyone I know is staying put in Santa Rosa, I am entering a four-year college come this September. My parents kept telling me their stories in Russia after finishing the Russian equivalent of High School. My dad was drafted into the Soviet Army, enduring a frozen hell, and my mom had to look out for herself after her mother married a second time. Perhaps my feelings of isolation and abandonment aren’t as profound as theirs were, but I still feel this enormous anxiety towards leaving that I really don’t think I will be able to shake off. I do realize I need to grow up and leave, but I am wondering what will happen to me now that it is being thrust upon me. If a butterfly is ripped from its protective cocoon earlier than it should, will it ever fly?
I BETTER not have to read that -_-. *crosses fingers* I hope I can ...sleep... ;__;.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like a senior. Really, I remember the beginning of this year in English class when we had to write a letter to our teacher describing ourselves and our lives, I wrote that I don’t feel like a senior. Most people who didn’t know me always guessed I was a Junior, I was always with people younger than me. Now, nine months later, I really don’t know how far I’ve gone. The only distinction I really see between lower classmen and myself is that I’m leaving in a matter of days , I’m going off somewhere, and everyone else gets to stay behind. So the genuine truth is that I don’t want to go. I don’t want to spread my wings and fly far from here, I’d like to stay inside my little cocoon, still trying to grow those wings that are supposed to set me free.
When I look back at it, I realize that indeed my metaphoric wings have taken long to develop. I’ve always been immature, enjoying hobbies most kids my age weren’t into. Pokemon, for instance, kept my attention throughout most of high school. While other students lobbied around the quad at lunch to listen to the music and contests of all sorts, I was more into chasing people around and trying to throw them into bushes, a process I called “bushing”, and doing “the daily splatter”, a tradition that involved throwing food against the “sacred wall” and seeing how well it splattered. It was only the second half of this year when the hard facts about my graduation were pressed upon me that I began to rethink my actions during school in a sort of depression. I don’t know where I’m headed in life, I don’t know what I’ve learned in high school, and I don’t know what will become of me. While everyone I know is staying put in Santa Rosa, I am entering a four-year college come this September. My parents kept telling me their stories in Russia after finishing the Russian equivalent of High School. My dad was drafted into the Soviet Army, enduring a frozen hell, and my mom had to look out for herself after her mother married a second time. Perhaps my feelings of isolation and abandonment aren’t as profound as theirs were, but I still feel this enormous anxiety towards leaving that I really don’t think I will be able to shake off. I do realize I need to grow up and leave, but I am wondering what will happen to me now that it is being thrust upon me. If a butterfly is ripped from its protective cocoon earlier than it should, will it ever fly?
I BETTER not have to read that -_-. *crosses fingers* I hope I can ...sleep... ;__;.
