congraduations

Our caps flew like confetti. Thank god I customized mine. I'll keep it as a memento of all-nighters, friendships formed in the academic trenches, dismissive professors and group-project-tortures. This isn’t another ‘drunk girl’ holiday, despite obvious similarities. Our parents, sisters, brothers, and grandmothers are here. We came in doe-eyed, holding overpriced planners, and enough provisions for two year Mars missions. We hoped to discover friends, decent Wi-Fi signals and perhaps our adult selves. Now we're holding diplomas, those future-proofing talismans. Mine’s in molecular biophysics and biochemistry. Which is wry, because when I was in high school, my sister accused me of not knowing how to boil water. I've been asked "What’s next?" a thousand times In the last month. I have plans—but I was dying to shrug and say, “that’s tomorrow’s problem,” like I’ve spent major duckets, degree wise, but remain a ditzy blonde. The standard graduate answer, I’ve heard, is "I dunno." (though honestly, it’s a great answer). Congratulations, all of you graduating overachievers out there—everywhere. Go forth, be fabulous and find that next big dream. Can you believe we actually did this? Argh! I gotta go, someone wants another picture. . . Songs for this: What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh Summer Wind by Robert Mosci Tomorrow by Wings