I've yet to call myself a senior.

...And in these LAST FOUR WEEKS there will be much new.

Prom with a wonderful date who actually called my phone and asked like a gentleman.

Graduation with a real cap and gown that I have already that I scowl at because I'm a year younger and the hat is just a reminder with its shiny '10 hanging off the tassel...I had prepared myself for an '11

A big choice still undecided....a MAJOR choice...with so many of these in an academic catalog of a school that wasn't my first choice but of which I will be attending because of a beautiful, wonderful, miraculous scholarship which I MIGHT LOSE IF I FAIL PRE-CALC...again.

And lots of dresses.

A white one for this school's graduation

A blue one for my home high school's graduation

A purple one for prom

A teal one for a wedding in July

A black one for my cousin's wedding...in July

And yet...I don't feel busy.

I feel like I'm playing a role...this "grad" role was never me. "No, I don't want a class ring. No, I won't feel like I'm missing out on something if I don't have one. No, mom, I don't think I want one." I have a ring. It has scalloped sterling surrounding an oval of turquoise and I bought it cheap at an antique store that sells expensive things. When I wear it, I feel like a mature and creative woman who lives in Arizona somewhere with her Collie and cherry red pick-up truck...

And I like that. I like that it has character. I like that it had a life before me...that it was worn or maybe stuffed in an underwear drawer amidst a dried rose still alive with romance from a 12th anniversary...or something like that.

I don't like these unoriginal celebrations. All in robes and square hats...might as well be a KKK gathering in my opinion. Why can't we wear hats we choose ourselves? I'd wear my vintage light pink with the faded silk flowers.

I'm ready to be a part of something. Since I don't really fit in here well, I see the hats as silly, the diploma as unnecessary, "The class of 2010...blah, blah, blah..." And I know it would be different if I was sadder about leaving. If I wasn't excited about the possibility..immense possibility..to finally follow my passion. If I wasn't stoked about this probable change. This new-winged bird, ready to fly.