Graduation

Like many people who are around a similar age as I am, a large portion of my friends and acquaintances are either graduating or are attending graduations for their respective schools which they have already left. I've heard speeches and seen tears and laughed alongside people I've known for a majority of my life up until this point. The speeches were inspiring, the tears were bitter-sweet, and the laughter was sincere. For these individuals whose lives are at a cross-road where the future is vast and uncertain, ceremonies and camaraderies such as these are full of symbolism, and the memories made wont be easily forgotten for at least the rest of the summer. Probably.

Do you really think you're always right?

Depending on how you want to look at the world, you're wrong a lot. If you're a nihilist than you're not really wrong your subconscious is just smarter than you. If you're in politics you're only wrong when everyone else knows your wrong. If you're a human being, you're wrong a lot more than you know and more than you'd probably like to admit.

The punchline is out of this world.

"Man, I sure wish I had payed attention in Californian geography class." The names of every significant city in that state seemed to somehow escape me. Three open-ended and three direct questions was what I was allotted, and I only had an open-ended question left. Trying my best to not get frustrated with my looming, inevitable loss, I recalled all the information I had gathered up to this point. "He's a place. A sunny place. And the people there are nice? That doesn't really help me at all. I know that he's in California, though. West coast, like he said." I couldn't think of a question that would help me in the slightest; I know next to nothing about Californian cities. This was supposed to be an exercise in asking good questions and getting information, but I was doing abysmally. Finally, desperate, I decided on "can you tell me what's around you?" I didn't know how this would help me, either, but it was the best I could do.

You know what they say about assuming, officer.

The sound of tires rolling across the street sounded like waves rolling on and off the beach. Lost in thoughts of another place and time, I turned the corner of 11th and Garnett, heading south. My 1990 Toyota Camry softly vibrating as I accelerated.  I squinted my eyes at the seemingly blinding bright street lights and yawned; it couldn't have been much later than midnight, but constantly running from place to place can wear a guy out. I hadn't even had time to take my car into a mechanic to have the tail lights looked at, which still hadn't been replaced since the last time I had an encounter with the police, which involved a very awkward confrontation with the sheriff and a pocket knife.