" " graduation...

So, I got a magazine in my school mail box few days ago. It's one of those school "alumni" magazines that allow alumnus (is that the plural for alumni? My spell checker keeps insisting that I use the word alumnus) with unsatisfactory lives (due to failed marriages, realization that they are incapable of being great parents, or realization that they are incompetent at their jobs and will soon get fired) to fondly look back at their times in college and try to re-live the moments. The funny thing about memories is that you only remember the things you want to remember, only the positives. For example, reflecting back on my freshman year, I remember always being so carefree, going out to drink or try experimental drugs almost every night (in case you are wondering, no I'm not addicted to hardcore drugs. I wish I was, than I would be able to write cool entries about all my experiences at rehab, really naming-names). However, during that same year, I was pulling a C+ average in most of my classes (my grades were significantly affected by my attendance or lack thereof, but I thought they were supposed to treat us like adults, and you just don't take attendances with adults!), and while everyone else gained 10~15lbs, I managed to gain 20 lbs, which required me to waste my money (ok... my parents') on a whole new wardrobe consisting of jeans with stretchy rubber lining around the waist and t-shirts so big that I could have draped all the windows in my house with the fabric and still have enough left over to make dresses for all the girls in my graduating class in high school. I imagine that if I was involved in a plane crash, ABC's Lost-style, people would have voted to roast me first for my tender Kobe beef quality flesh.

Anyways back to the alumni magazine. What really irked me about the magazine was actually not the magazine itself but the letter that accompanied it; I didn't even bother to flip through the magazine Why should i? I'm still young and got it gong on... (And besides, nowadays, I choose to only read magazines that are written by prize-winning writers, as I am desperately in the process of trying to reach the level of uber sophistication that average people can only dream about). Actually, the letter itself was not that bad either. It was the usual money solicitation letter from the college asking all graduating seniors to consider donating money in return for the four "amazing" years that the school had provided for them (and by "amazing" do they mean the four never ending years of hell, when at times I was tempted to cut myself or swallow rat poison to get out of writing 15 page papers on democratic theories?). What really got to me was a simple but horrible nonetheless, word choice: in order to alert us of the upcoming graduation, the writer had chosen to preclude graduation with the word, "impending." Well, fuck- fucukity fuck ( I apologize for the profanity, but if the person who wrote the letter is allowed to liberally use an improper word to describe a celebratory event, I am allowed to let few cuss words slip by once in a while). Doesn't the person who wrote the letter know that seniors are alreadying going through emotional ups and downs everyday trying to deal with the upcoming graduation? So why the hell would he (I am assuming the person who wrote the letter is a he, because I can't imagine a woman in today's world with a heart made of stone) feel the need to use the word "impending" to describe the event. I and the rest of the world excluding this insensitive jerk use the word "impending" to describe things that we do not look forward to: for example, my "impending" death, my "impending" trial for animal abuse, or my "impending" chemotherapy for the ball cancer I got from drinking too much diet coke. So... a word to whoever wrote the letter, I beg you to reconsider your extremely poor word choice. And if you still think that "impending" was the right word for your letter, keep in mind that from now on, I will not be RSVP-ing to any of your "impending" celebrations.