Sitting at my computer past midnight. Eyes are tearing. Not sure why. Ida plays in the background:
Frank and I just went to see the Royal Tenenbaums again at the Union. I laughed hardest at the part where Dudley finds Richie with his wrists slit. The look on his face. What the hell is wrong with me?
Some high school was having a prom upstairs. People singing along with songs so retro. Jake said it would be strange to have your high school prom at a university's student union. I said it was no stranger than Skate Country or the middle school gymnasium.
I remember the prom at Silverbrook, returning after a year at college for a spontaneous prom appearance and what seemed like an impromptu prom. My night dampened by the persistant odor of gym socks, those blue and white gym shirts that no one ever washed, and countless middle school dances emulating Vanilla Ice and feeling half-rejected because no one would dance with me. Sam told me the she is skipping her prom this year to go to my graduation. I don't know which is less exciting: watching hundreds of people you know dressed in too expensive gowns dancing poorly to bad music with a sinking feeling of disappointment or thousands of people you don't know finish a major part of their life, walking across a stage while being handed an exorbitantly expensive piece of paper. Both are supposed to be so pivotal, but tend to be anti-climactic. I'm not particularly proud or excited or relieved to be graduating, nor am I particularly upset. Chances are I'll stay here.
Heard from an old friend. She shouldn't be so distant. This shouldn't seem so awkward(?).
I should go to bed.