Checkpoints in Life

I wish peace to you all. Assalamu'alaikum.


...takes a bit of courage to write that.

Right. So.

I originally wanted to write this exactly last week, when I had just graduated, as some kind of graduation celebratory post. I'm losing my writing skills in both languages, really. Ugh.

So, on May 30th 2013 we are now pronounced as graduates of 28 High. Phew. That can sound really big to people who often hear of our school, but to us, it's just... a part of growing up. Before I start to get feely all over again, should I just make this as a diary post like I originally intended to?

Right.

So the fuss started at 5.00 when we arrived at a salon nearby for makeup. I can't do makeups, like really. The person taking care of me is a T/Q, but she was really kind. I went to the building located at Tebet with my mom from there at 5.50 AM. I learned the previous day on the rehearsal that the graduates were going to have some kind of grand entrance parade. Apparently, our entrance parade leader was the top-notch local heartthrob of the era. Girls started whispering around and combusting frantically. Some really chronic stirring and spewing happened among some really chronic fangirls, but then, nothing else happened.

The entrance parade, especially the standing order, was really complicated but then I realized that it was for the sake of entering the hall and taking seats neatly. (we were given seat orders and standing orders according to that). It all went well, with graceful walks on the red carpet and whatnot.

My class entered the last (thanks to the major-based listing). We wore purple dresses and ties.

We sang the national anthem, and the school anthem, and stuff. There were dancing performances by the sophomores, and then, the graduation ceremony. People walked up the stage to get their graduation medals and a picture, called up by alphabetical order and being applauded for the schools they've managed to get into through the Progress Card Process. Only a 'meager' 1/3 passed the selection and I really wonder why people are still thickfaced enough to take the selection even though they don't rank well in class. Don't get offended though I'm just saying, I'm a lazy moron too you know.

This lazy moron was one of the last--the ninth number in class--to come up the stage. They called my name and mentioned the school where I'm admitted. People were already tired of applauding for 200 students, but then, they applauded for me. It's not that I was being applauded, it's that I have a lot of responsibilities for that big name. My faith, my mother, my mother's money, my people, my pride. My dreams that I highly fear.

The booming sophomore idol, our Vice Principal's tabby daughter, came popping out of nowhere like a mutated daisy. I've always been a fan of her, although I do admit that her voice is an 'acquired taste'--not your ordinary vocal-school-favored voice.

The other surprise was my long-time idol, Tompi and The Doctor (I am sorry I always forgot your name, Maam, but I just love you sfm, really.). They scat and I scatter, okay. They're gorgeous.

Show over. I walked around to get as many pictures with my friends as possible. It's weird how people you always think were bitter to you, actually like you. Or maybe just for the day, or maybe just for the name, we will never know.

To C if you happen to read this post, I'm sorry I can't hold it down when I know I'm supposed to.



Over and out. MGBU.