Shut Up And Listen 65

Memoir Of A High School Student
Three more days plus an exam and I’m done. Five years over. I am pretty damn happy, but also pretty damn scared. 
	High school is over in three days (I come back one day to write an exam though).
	Before I get to the big stuff, I should explain a few things. In Ontario there has been a system of schooling where college and university are two different things. University is more an academic institution whereas college is more training for practical jobs. You want to be a doctor or lawyer or teacher? Go to university. You want to do anything else? Go to college. So to get into university you need at least six OAC credits (aka grade 13). I want to go to university, so I took OAC. (This system will end next year, as next year will be the last year students can take OAC. Personally, I looked at it as a free year of education. OAC courses are pretty much first year college courses anywhere else.)
	I remember at this time last year a lot of people I knew where beginning to get reflective and shit (because most people graduate in grade 12—like I said, OAC is extra). I didn’t because I knew I’d be back, so there was no need to get all mushy and shit. But recently, I can’t help but start thinking back on my high school career. 
	It really started when people were talking about how great it will to be out of high school. I agree, but a part of me will miss it. Not for what it was but mainly because it’s been what I’ve been doing for the past five years. I got used to it. That, and I’m scared shitless of university. The Real World, people. It’ll get you too.
	But as I reflect I notice one thing: high school was boring as fuck. Not just the classes, but the people too. I found myself bored a lot. I realised a few months ago the reason for that is partly that my choices for friends was limited. What were the odds that I would meet people who I really connected with? No, you are given a selection of people to choose from and are lucky if you can find a few people you don’t hate. (This realisation came when I thought about how I enjoy my online friends more than my real life ones. I mean, I met most of my online friends through similar interests compared to being put in a building with random people and told to mix.) This doesn’t mean that I haven’t made any good friends; it just means that for the most part, I couldn’t care less if I never see most of these people again. Even most of my friends.
	There’s always that moment when it hits you: you’ve known some of these people for five years. Hell, I’ve known some for . . . fifteen. When you’re nineteen, five years is more than a quarter of your life (and fifteen . . . shit, man). With some they’ve become a part of my life without even being a big part. I’m used to seeing some of them everyday. It’s weird.
	In one way, I can’t stand some of them, but I also can’t see myself without them. Sure, I’d go the summer without seeing them, but in the back of my head I knew I’d see them come September. High school: a world full of contradictions.
	They say that high school is the best time of your life. It’s not. My high school experiences weren’t bad or anything. They just better not be the best of my life.
	One thing that I want to emphasize to people: I didn’t care about not being “popular.” Still don’t. I would rather stay home on a Saturday night and do nothing than go out. Seriously. Ingratiating one self into a circle of people isn’t hard. I just prefer to go out and do stuff on a limited basis. Once a month is more than enough for me at this point. Sure, parties are fun, but I only like them because I go to so few of them. I’d hate them if I went to them frequently. The only thing that pissed me off about not going out is people saying I have no life or saying there’s something wrong with being anti-social (and not in a criminal way, just in a “I don’t like people that much” kind of way). Why does everyone have to want to leave the house? My interests lie in being alone and reading, watching TV, listening to music, writing, doing computer shit, and other things. So what? I don’t walk around telling people who don’t do what I do to get a life. People are different.
	Actually, I think that’s one of the reasons I avoided social contact outside of school. To be different. To be unique. To say to the world “Fuck you!” 
	I only have a few regrets about high school and all of them involve women. Yeah, and they all involve me wishing I wasn’t such a piece of chicken shit. And no, I’m not still pining for The Girl. Hell, I guess I shouldn’t refer to her as The Girl anymore then, should I? Heh. 
	A while back I started an autobiographical graphic novel called What A Good Boy: The Story Of A Teenager In Like and I have the urge to get back to it. Need something to do over the summer, eh?
	So, yeah, getting a little reflective. Looking back at what have been the high points and low points of high school. Thinking about how there are maybe three people who I’ll still want to talk to when it’s over. Shitting bricks at the thought of the Real World.
	What a great time to be alive, eh?