And who would have thought I’d finally be rid of pretentious IB acronyms that seem determined to frighten and confuse all who encounter them?

PIBWH, incidentally, is pre-IB World History.

So I graduated yesterday, and am profoundly thankful that never again will I have to stand around outside wearing a voluminous white gown over a white dress over another white dress over a pair of lovely white fishnets in ninety-eight degree weather. Things did improve after they seated us, and from there things went by amazingly fast. Or maybe it just seemed that way. At any rate, it was far more bearable than Baccalaureate, which I refrained from dedicating an entry to, and with good reason. Why the parental units decided to be Baptists for the day is beyond me…

A surprising number of underclassmen turned up to see the graduation, which, as I saw it, was flattering. Dare I think we will be missed? By people who aren’t dramamates, that is; I know the drama club will…

Hortensio and Biondello waved and bounced as I headed to my seat, trying, as Mao later put it, to look decorous. Naturally, I failed, and had to play up my presence by pulling my camera out of one enormous white sleeve and snapping a picture of the ’mates, which they seemed to enjoy and which I’m certain ruined my decorous appearance, if ever it was so. Afterward, I encountered Reyu and Hostess and my Our Town mother. But there’s a lot to babble about before I get that far.

So the salutatorian delivered a dry-witted, rather pompous address on perversity and the importance of standing up for what you believe in, even if you’re standing alone (I have reason to believe she borrowed that quote from a poster in the TOK prof’s room), and admitted that she had worn khakis and polo shirts nearly every day for the last four years simply to annoy people. Not to avoid conformity, which would have been a slightly more admirable way of putting it, but to annoy people. She spoke about how vital it is to defend one’s beliefs even if it means going against the grain, nay, especially when it means going against the grain, and about the importance of exercising perversity every day. There were some good points, and the girl was eloquent, but I think her attempts at humor were a bit too articulate for many people to grasp and, on the whole, the address seemed rather…eh, let’s just say petty, shall we? Oh, I’m sure I couldn’t have done a better job; just the idea of giving a speech makes me choke. But criticizing things from afar has always been a bad habit of mine. Besides, seeing as I was never in any danger of being the salutatorian, I can say these things, you understand.

And so the perversity-focused lass stepped down and the dark-haired gymnast stepped up and gave a sweet little speech about the importance of a smile. It was cute and bland and I remember very little of it, but I’m extremely glad she was the valedictorian, really. My mind was wandering, you see; being near the beginning of the alphabet, I was contemplating how to make it across the stage without seriously hurting myself.

So that was that, and then Heather Whitestone gave a very nice graduation address that I do remember and will not expand further on because I’m tired and I doubt anyone wants to hear about it. Besides, it’s almost to the good part—the diplomas.

Eek. Diplomas. The first row lined up and was led onto the stage. Warren made summa cum laude, Jessie didn’t show up to walk (she told me a long time ago she was going to have the school mail her the diploma), and Emerald went, and Bob and Kelly, both full IB, and then the second row stood, and Ivy began to go slightly numb for some reason, and then the third row had to stand and she somehow managed to make it to the stage.

They called she-who-shares-my-surname and I was too busy concentrating on standing up to cheer. Then they called me and I strolled onto the stage and the two forty-foot screen arranged on either side of it. I made it to the principal, doing something typically Ivy on my way over, shook the hand, got the envelope, and headed down the stairs as they called she-who-does-too.

So I survived it. And IB Honors paid off, as I did end up with the advanced diploma. Hallelujah, yah-bo, etc.

My memories after that point are rather hazy. I clapped for people I knew, and occasionally cheered for the people I was particularly fond of. I threw my mortarboard with my left hand so I could take a picture with my right, and consequently lost sight of it and headed back to the stage later to pick it up. And I seem to recall encountering Hortensio again, and then the two of us linking arms and tap dancing out of the pavilion…

The after grad party was actually quite interesting. I did a number of things between midnight and five, among them coming into possession of a stuffed bear, sticking myself to a giant Velcro wall, wandering through an inflatable maze while wielding a laser gun (to my credit, I did not pretend to be a Jedi), and having my fortune told (for more on that, see the livejournal). I also somehow managed to win four tickets to a Melissa Etheridge concert. (If anyone has an opinion on her I wouldn’t mind hearing it, as I have no idea what kind of singer this Melissa is.)

Afterward, Lexine and I rode off with Mao, staggered through a grocery store to buy sorbet, watched the sun rise, and discussed the absurd, the obvious, and the obscure. Eventually, at a traffic light, Mao helped Lexine, er, broaden her horizons, and then took her home. I wound up throwing myself on a futon at Mao’s place for a few hours and returning home looking and feeling rather hung over.

Still, graduation and all that came with it went a lot better than I expected. The IB might actually have been worth it…

Huh. Or not.

No matter, I’m through with it, and that’s all I need to know.

Adieu.