For five years, the one constant in my life has been school – writing papers, complaining about the 4 freaking math classes I had to take (after they assured me it was only 2, no wait, 3. It’s just 3. Oops, did we tell you 3? We meant 4. Sorry!), basic math and then algebra and more algebra and then something called Finite Math that was absolutely horrifying (and got me my worst grade ever), biomes, and politics, and essays, and social norms. Then came the fun part. Business systems, the Internet, networking, more networking, programming, even more programming, web design, project planning, database administration, LANs and W-LANs and security. Finally Unix (which is over next week), something called Application Implementation and then my final elective, media and society. I wanted something I could coast through and I can write papers in my sleep.
On April 18, it’s over. 38 classes down, 2 to go.
For five years, I’ve been planning to walk in the graduation ceremony. Because it meant something to me. It meant I didn’t fail.
I received an email today about the registration process. I can participate in the ceremony on any Phoenix campus – and I wanted to go to Phoenix, or Las Vegas (for a
sin gambling-filled weekend). I had no intention of walking in the ceremony here because the entire point was to get away and celebrate.
Bridget and I talked about going to Phoenix. When that didn’t work out, I thought MoC and I could go. But that isn’t going to work out, either.
I suppose I could go to Las Vegas by myself. At least I could play poker all weekend.
I can’t believe I’m so sad about this. Getting the piece of paper was the goal – the ceremony isn’t important. Who cares, really?