Dorsey on Graduation

Before I begin the meat of this post, let me just tell you something about my process of posting a legitimate blog post rather than an episode of Douchebag Darrel.

When I write a post, I put the words together on a Microsoft Word document in about thirty to forty minutes, maximum.  I don’t really edit it, with the exception of Spell-check.

That being said, my MS Word doesn’t recognize half the slang I use on these posts anyway, so it’s a good thing I’m an overall decent speller or else these posts would make much less sense than they do as it is.

After that, I throw in the pictures, which are pure hell to draw, but that isn’t important to keep in mind as you read this post.

What you should keep in mind is that these are my precise thoughts right now towards my high school graduation, and as I’m pretty much pulling this out of my ass, I can make no guarantees as to what this post may contain.

On a related note, I'm actually taking this post somewhat seriously.

In other words, it might not be a funny post.

Well, not funny in the sense that it’s not a sad attempt to be funny.

So no promises.  Don't worry, there'll still be jokes, I hope, but as I said,  pulling it out of my ass.  This could either be depressing and angsty or I could just stop caring and make a joke out of the whole thing.

Ahem.  Let me start with my most prominent thought towards graduation.

I hated every second of high school.  I have never experienced elation like this.

High school is kinda like a zoo where the zookeepers (the teachers) feed all the animals equal doses, and most of the animals occasionally respond with something along the lines of “f*** your knowledge, I don’t need that shit.”

And that’s the toned down version.

Anyway, throughout the course of my tenure, I have discovered that I don’t specifically fit in with any of the species of high school kids.  I wasn’t good at sports and didn’t think with my crotch, so I couldn’t be a jock.  I wasn’t a girl, so I couldn’t be a slut.  I had minimal motivation, so I wasn't anywhere near valedictorian.  I didn't show off my musical abilities, so I was neither band nor choir kid, or that douche from that party who plays "Wonderwall" to pick up chicks.  I hid from the universe throughout junior high, so I had no hope of being the king of the universe Mr. Popular.  I had morals, so I wasn’t a stoner. I’m personally afraid of Hot Topic, so I had to avoid the scene kids for health reasons.  I didn’t play nearly enough RPG games, despite my Runescape phase, which, let’s face it, was an ugly time for everybody involved, so we can rule out nerd.

I can still navigate through Falador with ease.

I mean…uh…Ah, who do I have to impress, my roommate next year?  That poor kid’s gonna be stuck with me, whether he likes me or not.

All the more reason to be elated.

But back to how I didn’t fit in.  I was the Liger of the High School zoo.  I still am the Liger.

Of course, I’m not exactly unpopular.  No, far from it.  I was never in the running for Homecoming king or anything, but, as I just said, I did manage to escape my Runescape phase before it permanently crippled my social status.  No, I suppose to be accurate, I was at a popularity level where I wasn’t quite popular enough for anyone to truly care about me in every creepy and horrible sense of the word.

Or maybe my stalkers are just really that good.

I wouldn’t call it horrible though.  As a natural pessimist, I found crippling faults in every group or people, so I reveled in my solitude.

Then I made friends, which was a whole new experience.

This all happened about the time I joined theatre.  And if you’ve ever been involved in anything with theatre kids over an extended period of time…

…you might be able to understand why I won’t be missing their antics all too much either.

Now, I try not to be overly critical of people.

Okay, that’s a complete lie, but let’s pretend it’s not for the sake of my point.

Despite the fact that there is so much diversity in each class of our school, I find it remarkable that the majority of our school focuses on the attitude of one specific group of people in the class that just happen to be the biggest assholes of the grade.

It’s insane.  I’ve never seen it before.  And I’m sick of it.

Wait, what?  Did I say that?  No I didn't.  America(!).

That being said, this group of juniors were posting Facebook statuses about how awesome it is to be seniors now that we’re gone, class of 2013 all the way and all that jazz.  Next, this group of seniors thought it was their God-given right to put these suckers in their place by posting angsty Facebook statuses about how the juniors couldn’t steal their thunder until they actually graduated at the ceremony, despite the fact that they did the same exact thing the previous year.

Facebook is becoming less of a social network and more of a battle ground.  I’d post a status about it, but my hypocrite index is too far in the red as it is.

Blogging about it is a far superior route.

America(!).

The point I’m trying to make here with people using Facebook news feeds as therapists is that it just made me feel even more like a liger.

More accurately, a liger that sees this full pool of mating potential then thinks to himself, “You know, I never really liked swimming anyway.”

I can’t wait for college.

So, yeah, I’m excited to get out of this place, but I shouldn’t be too hasty.

Now I know that I now have no excuses.  I need to take control of my life.  I can’t joke about living in cardboard boxes, especially that I know that I very well could be living in one soon if I’m not careful.

Or even worse…my parents’ basement.

It’s been 18 years, I think that’s plenty.

And mom and dad will probably agree with me on this one.

I guess you could call it nerves. 

I personally call it being scared shitless.

The worst part about this terrified feeling is that it isn’t a constant.  One moment, I’ll be fine, playing Lego Star Wars or something on my PS2 and then suddenly, it’s like, BAM.  Some magical responsibility fairy pops up out of nowhere and is all “Hey guess what you are going to have to work in a competitive job market where the lowest of qualifications is a BA or greater and oh by the way that college stuff sure it may be vital to your life but it’s still going to cause you and your parents to lose so much money in just the first of four years that you’re going to be paying this college back for probably decades and oh by the way you’ll probably never be able to retire due to social security running dry and everything getting hella expensive.  But good luck, I have faith in you.”

I think I know why college kids drink so much.

On top of that, I have this sinking feeling that I’m gonna be THAT kid.  You know that kid.  The one who had all of his greatest accomplishments in High School, only to disappear off the face of the earth for twenty years, then show up at the high school reunion with a beer gut, no hair, no wife, a horrible income, and a vague odor of salami and mustard.

And I wasn’t even a football player.  What can I say, I was never a follower of the crowd.

And the worst part is, that’s not even the scariest part of the post-high school panic attacks.

The worst part is that I, along with the help of a few others, have built myself up too big to fail.

I am the AIG of high school students going into college.

This year, four people have signed my yearbook telling me fantastic futures where I’ll be famous and better than everyone.  That I’m going to go far.  That I have luck, skill, and dashing good looks on my side (okay, that last part I made up but STILL).

I have literally built my ego up so far, if I have anything less than a stellar life, I’ll feel like I disappointed all those people who said I’m gonna do great, incredible things, and more accurately, be disappointed in myself because I know that I could have done it, too.

So, Mom, Dad, and I know you’re reading this, if you happen to see me sitting in a fetal position in a corner, rocking back and forth, surrounded by Disney VHS tapes and trophies of my past high school awesome, muttering lines from various plays and speeches I have been in and given, a quick slap upside the head should bring me back to reality for about 20 minutes or so.

But it’s not the sheer terror that’s getting to me.  It’s not the sheer elation.  No, for the most part, whenever I think about how I went up and received my diploma, I feel an overwhelming sense of…

Apathy.

I’m not even kidding.  To me, a high school diploma isn’t the end of my beautiful life as a child.  Nor is it the gateway to the future.  It’s just a sheet of paper that’s inadvertently telling me that I’m just going to have to pay for school now.  It’s like going up from elementary school to junior high.  It’s an opportunity to meet a bunch of funny new guys and a bunch of cute new girls.  And the girls will always be cuter where I will be (or at least I hope so.  IF YA CATCH MY DRIFT).

I don’t feel like I’m going to exponentially miss anyone either.  This goes back to my hatred of high schoolers (seriously, I’m gonna miss the teachers more than the students), but even the people I tolerate and genuinely actually like I probably won’t miss.

I see everyone complaining on Facebook about how much they’ll miss all the friends they made in their pre-college years, and I can’t help but thinking that they missed the whole point of Facebook in the first place.

I have never wanted to punch a whole social networking site in the face before.  Someone please direct me to Facebook’s actual face.

Not Zuck though.  He seems like a nice fellow, what with his movie The Social Network.

Overall, I feel like graduation is almost a waste of time nowadays.  I can’t name one career that I would want to do that just requires a diploma or a GED.  It just seems like a celebration for realizing that you have to start paying for everything now.

Which, ultimately, is not a just cause for celebration.  Especially if you’re cheap like I am.

I’m not even excited about the grad parties either.  Most of the people who invited me just invited their whole friend list, so I don’t feel privileged enough to attend, and those who didn’t, I’m usually just going for the food.  If the food’s good, I’ll give the graduate a pat on the back or something, but if it’s not, I’ll just eat it anyway, because, hey, free food.

But despite the excitement, despite the fear, despite the overwhelming apathy, one thought keeps springing to my mind.

This is what eighteen years of living with my parents, thirteen years of the American(!) Public School System, three years of Theatre, Speech, and Cross Country, one year of blogging, and a few weeks of having a weekly webcomic has prepared me for.

I’m not excited.

I’m not scared.

I’m not apathetic.

I am ready.

So bring it on, Life.  Make your turn.

Because I have amazing luck in your board game.

And yes, that is a valid way of judging how I will live my life.