I miss you Puddleby :(

Today is the day I realized: Holy crap, we're graduating. To celebrate our exodus from this school of horrors, they gave us lunch, which was really just a clever ruse to get us to listen to important information for our success in the future. Nicely played school. They also gave us some speeches about not hating us, which were very nice, but probably won't encourage us to give them money in the future as much as they might have hoped. They were all pretty cliche, except for one of my many favourite supervisors, who, at least for today, will be known as my sole favorite supervisor because she actually had the balls to tell us the truth with a smile on her face. That truth being that, although we are made up of a number of lovely people, together we're a little...umm...high maintenance. The choice of the term "monster class" was what made her truly awesome though and has led me to aspire to be her when I eventually grow up.

But, monster or not, I'm sad to see it ending. I'm not always sure why, but it kind of reminds me of my first hamster, Puddleby. She got a taste for human flesh early on, so I spent 2 years in a "no touchy" relationship with her. I would feed her and, in exchange, she would spend the night finding various new ways to keep me from sleeping. But then, one day, she got sick, and, for the first time, I was able to pick her up without a thick leather glove. I took her to the vet, where they told me her little hamster kidneys were failing, after they told me that it was difficult to diagnose, since she wouldn't stop biting the vet. That night, as I buried her tissue box coffin under our blueberry bush, this brought me joy, because as much as I would have liked to have a hamster that didn't scar me quite so often, I liked knowing that right up until the end, she was herself. I cried like a baby. And this is the same feeling I have for the class of 2010. The fact is, we had teeth, and we weren't ashamed to show them sometime.

I've decided to cope with the demise of the awesome power produced when the class of 2010 is united the way I cope with most negative things: lots and lots music. In the past, I've written about my frequent desire to path dance, but I neglected to mention my other favorite past time: the overly dramatic walk. Sometimes, when I'm at home, listening to a really good song, I'll go to the kitchen, hoping I'll figure out that I needed to do something there, just because I felt the need to dramatically walk somewhere. Once I realize that I don't have anything to do, I dramatically walk back to my room, only to repeat the whole thing in a few minutes when I've "forgotten" that nothing is happening in the kitchen. Sometimes, I'll drink a lot of water, just so that I can dramatically walk to refill it. That has the added bonus of allowing me to dramatically walk to the washroom 2-3 times an hour.

I wanted to include pictures with this post to spice it up a bit, but I'm not at home, so I don't have my crayons or my scanner or anything else that would allow me to depict a hamster or a monster or a dramatic walk. But that's okay, because you have an imagination. So, this is the part of the post where I'd like you to close your eyes...wait, open them again so that you can read the rest of this. Now imagine, with your eyes open and continuing to read this, that you are walking through a field. And, in this field, there is a hamster...a giant hamster, with yellow polka dots...and maybe antlers, I haven't quite decided. The hamster sees you and starts chasing you. For 4 years. And then you realize that money is falling out of your pockets and the hamster is eating it. Then you realize that the field is full of paperwork that you're expected to finish while running away from the hamster. But you don't have a pen, and you're running from a friggin' giant hamster, so you can't fill it out on time.

Okay, you can stop imagining now. Think about how you feel. Now you know how I felt today (and most other days for a very long time). If you're thinking "You felt confused?", then you are halfway to understanding my world. In conclusion: next time I'll draw a picture.