I have survived the first week of my senior year. It can only get better from here on out because every day is a day closer to graduation, the pinnacle of my high school experience, the light at the end of the tunnel.
There was nothing particular special about the first three days of the school year. I have some pretty kick ass teachers and stimulating classes, so that’s good. I have to hang out with my homophobic, mildly alcoholic, sometimes overachieving, social climbing “friends”, so that’s bad. Nothing spectacular happened, but I’ll give you the highlights anyways.
On the first day of school, I got to talk to the hottest guy in my class. We were both in a displaced class and he showed me where he thought it was. We exchanged maybe two sentences. It was kind of pretty much awesome. But then I ended up not even being in that class with him, so our romance fizzled out there. But we will always have those five minutes and that stretch of hallway.
Also, I made a friend! I know, I know, very exciting stuff. You are bursting at the seams with inquires about this new, mysterious player in my life. Is is a girl? Is it a boy? Are they tall? Short? Irish? Left handed? Well, these are the facts: (fan)boy, tall (very, actually), not Irish, and not left handed. He is extremely geeky and I cannot discriminate because of this handicap because it seems I am inflicted with a strain of the same disease.
What else…what else…. Oh! I almost died a social death at lunch. Let me set the scene: me standing in front of my art class door. A single sheet of paper staring me back in the face. The words “First Lunch” marked so haphazard upon it. But make no mistake, such declaration should not be made with such haste, such nonchalance. This meant I would not even be allowed the good grace of connecting with my classmates and marching into the cafeteria hand in hand. I would have to go it alone. And to further misgivings, it was a lunch period of almost pure freshmen. I stumbled between tables, the only senior for miles around! What was I to do besides find an empty table in the back and eat my lunch alone! It was a travesty. Lucky, not five minutes went by before another doe-eyed senior spotted me, a girl I knew from my perilous adventures in dance company, and came to my rescue (as I came to hers) and salvaged what was left of my dignity.
So, that is my first week of being a senior. Somewhat sucky, a little disheartening, but not all hope is lost. It was also mildly entertaining, slightly interesting, and with any luck, will prove to be a good motivator to get into the college of my dreams and actually make something of myself.