Because EVERYONE loves detail.

I told you I'd be back.

First, I just wanted to point out, Woodland has its own Wikipedia page. Like, who took out the time to write a page about our school? Who wants to have that kind of time?

Moving on. So, it's my second day of summer vacation. I should start reading the 4 books for AP Lit that I haven't actually bought yet, or listen to the French broadcasts for AP French, which God knows why I'm even continuing this language when I haven't learned anything since Mrs. Hiscox, or I should start the Calculus packet, which seems the least daunting of the three. But, no, I'm here. Typing away on the keyboard missing the X button, The Price is Right playing in the background, waiting for life to begin.

There's so much I want to tell you. There's so much I neglected to talk about in the past eight months.

In the fall our school did a production of Stagedoor. In the spring we did Once on This Island. We received 10 Halo award nominations, and we won Best Specialty Ensemble in a Musical, (that's me guys that's ME!)

Tech week is rapidly approaching for Bright Lights; which seems much more hectic than last year. We've had maybe a month of rehearsals and our director just left to do a show in the Adirondacks and there's so many little kids and ugh. But it's ok. It'll all be ok.

Graduation was yesterday. And now I can talk about it in detail. Because everyone loves detail.

It was hot. Hot. The temperature was in the high 90s, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the courtyard was flooded with sunlight. The only shadows to be found were the ones casted from the spectators.  But the heat was bearable. I survived. I survived.


The speeches ranged from the obligatory to the unexpected, to the originally-observational-and-witty-until-everyone-started-incorporating-YOLO-into-their-speech speeches. Chamber choir suffered from my ex-boyfriend's proximity to the microphone, who sounded uneasy and uncomfortable, and thus the entire chorus sounded uneasy and uncomfortable. The band was missing integral parts of both their sections and their spirits, as some chose not to come, and others chose to graduate. Well, not chose. But. Yea.

But these are just trivial parts of the evening. What I, and what I expect most everyone else, really came for was to see the seniors walk across the stage. It was strange. As much as I was upset that my friends were leaving, going off to respective colleges across the (predominantly New England area) country, I was also filled with a sense of closure. This is their final step as a high schooler. This is mine as a junior. This is me next year. This is them right now. This is okay. This is what's happening and this is the only way the future really happens, by accepting the present.

Of course, I will sorely miss the seniors that I call my friends, my best friends. To walk into Woodland next year missing such a large part of our spirit, will be a haunting and jolting realization. But, they aren't gone. They just aren't here. They're at college. They're growing up, they're finding themselves more than we ever could in these humid halls.

So, it's bittersweet.

But, hey, thank God it's summer amiright?

Equally unflattering as it is an 

accurate portrayal of our friendship.