All Grown Up, and Nowhere To Go?

Hello, darlings!

Guess what? In the past two weeks, a lot of things have happened. Yes? Yes. I'm a horrible blogger this year, so let me update some. Now:

I am a high school graduate.

And I'm eighteen (and watching a ton of Disney.)

I've attended Senior Prom (and, um, left early to go camping with my friends.)

And I wore a (totally hideous) cap and gown.

I have a diploma (even though I wasn't technically supposed to get it until after I'm back from debate Nationals.)

And somehow...

I feel totally the same.

YA is interesting. Books are made out of moments. The sad ones, the happy ones, the ones that have you laughing until you can't breathe, or crying until your eyes ache. What we put into pages -- what we take out of pages -- comes from life. In the last two weeks, a lot of life, at least by societal standards, has been shoved into my lap. It's rather odd, actually.

I mean -- I never really doubted that, if possible by health and wealth, I would graduate high school. It's a luxury I've been allowed in my life to know that was a signpost I would obtain. It's something that I shouldn't take for granted, but definitely have. Through the stress and drama of high school, this was basically the mantra:

It was a basic one. An easy one. But when I look at books, and movies, and just stories in general, it feels like it should have been a bigger moment. It's the same with turning 18. I mean -- whoa. I'm an adult. (Haha. That's a joke. Right?) It doesn't feel any different. This is still one of my favorite movies. 

I still like sparkles on my nails. Nothing has changed.But now people automatically take you a little bit more seriously when you say your age. You get jobs easier. In some countries, you can drink. But that moment wasn't any different from any other birthday. Senior prom was just another dance. Wearing my graduation robe was kind of just like wearing a superman cape, and my diploma just seems like a sheet of paper.

I guess the moments we put into books really aren't moments at all. It's odd, and much too musing of me, but I think the interesting part comes from the culmination of time. Maybe graduation was meh, but high school? I was lucky; I enjoyed every year. I joined debate. I made friends. I did decently well in figuring out my goals in writing and making strides to someday achieving those goals. I became me: I talk too much, care too much about politics, take too many pictures, and wear too much sparkly nail polish, but that is, indeed, me. Someday, those parts of me will make my writing better. The paper that means a diploma doesn't represent a ceremony of graduation; it represents four years of laughing and changing and crying and becoming who I am. 

I don't know. I don't feel different; I'm not. Those moments didn't change anything about who I am, but they do represent the changes that have happened. It's growing up, I suppose. 

How marvelously strange, and how scarily interesting.

More later, with more substance. I just wanted to update. Also, post pictures of Disney. Because why not?