Friday, July 11, 2003

For some reason, I woke up this morning thinking about my high school graduation.

Well, actually, I woke up thinking about my weird dream in which my mother and I were in my new apartment (yeah- we signed the lease, and "Adam
said we had it, but I still feel vaguely uncomfortable) and there was this dude, possibly a roomate, cooking. My mom said "he's cooking black linguini with a blue pesto sauce," and I woke up saying the words "plastic ribbon sauce?". Then I thought about high school.

Our principal was named Fleeger. The most fitting name for a high school principal. Our school colors were black and "gold"- a gold that turned itself into a horrible yellow rayony graduation gown all the girls had to graduate in. Yes, I graduated high school in yellow, lets move on. Because of the hideous nature of the gown, our school recommended that all girls wear white. Actually, our school basically said, if you dont wear white you dont walk. Of course, when the SGA president told me this- her being a friend of mine since the 6th grade- I started ranting and raving about individual rights and how graduation was a personal symbol of achievement and that it was doubly unfair since our friend Michelle was a goth and she wore black. Was she supposed to go out and purchase white doc martens? Do they make white combat boots?

In the end, I wore white. I remember walking across the stage. I don't remember why, but most of the Drama club occupied the front row, and I had some good friends in that group ( I was captain of the ushers almost every year. Thats right, Captain) and when I walked, they screamed like only future gay men and waitresses/ actresses can.

And then one guy walked, and as he approached the big P, took a seat in an empty chair, crossed his legs and looked out to the audience, hey yall, got up, shook the man's hand and then whipped out a camara, swung around, and took a picture of them together. It was greatness.

My friend Kim hula danced across the stage.

My friend Shannon promptly unzipped the gown, showing off a BLACK dress, and when the P went for the shake, she pulled her hand back and ran it through her hair- just like Grease.

I realized, that when all those drama queens, and my assorted friends in the back, were screaming for me- because at that point in High School, not a damn thing mattered any more and everybody was screaming for everyone else- I smiled so big and was so proud and scared and completly dumb struck all at the same time, I just crossed the stage and waved and did nothing.

In retrospect, I wish I had bought myself a red sequined tight mini skirted dress and ruby shoes just like dorothy, and stripped that damn stupid gown off, and stomped on it. I wish I had been in that dress with the stage lights, and shook what my mama gave me while the Drama Queens screamed for me, Captain of the Ushers.