6.7.2001
 
Last day.

Rather surreal since this year's gone by so fast. Another unusual point that I've become more comfortable during the end of the year as opposed to becoming increasingly paranoid.

First exam was ceramics... and I was surprised that I had to take an exam for that class. So a quick study of 20 minutes and I'm set for the test. Now here's the part that pissed me off. Apparenly Mr. A didn't grade one of my projects, which could knock my 4.0 down to 3.9 or lower.... damn you, Mr. A.

Nothing too extraordinary during the break between exams. I hung out with my circle of friends. Bought a krispy kreme donut and a sprite for lunch. Bell rang, then I went to art.

Well, that exam was finished already so we had roughly 2 hours to waste. For the first hour I hung out with Lizzy-pooh and friends. S and I put the MoulinRouge cd into the player and began dancing to the tango track. Man, she can dip really well. 'Course, Liz had to try her hand at it... but wasn't as good as S. Later, M and I were tossing around a heavy bowling pin and she managed to throw the heavy thing into my thigh. Ouch.

Nearing the end of the day, Patrycka came to the room to say bye to the teacher. I went up to her and we talked for a bit before she asked me to walk with her "to whereever." Where ever turned out to be sitting in the quad under the shade of a big tree. We talked about a bunch of stuff; boys, types, artwork, how the year's gone by fast, etc. Several people came by us in passing and we talked with them. Right before everyone was about to be let out, the intercom turns on and after a few words from the Student Body president and principal, Pink Floyd's song about education comes on. Just as that song began, I look over to the other side of the quad and I see a bunch of students walking out of their class. It was a surreal moment and felt like everything would slow-down in that dramatic movie style.

Now, I can relax right? Wrong. I still have rehearsals today. Ech.

. . . . . posted:||4:37 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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