I have finished all my papers, but I still have classes on Tuesday. I can only imagine how pointless they will be because by this point all the seniors have mentally checked out and will, shall we say, be less than enthusiastic about participating. Basically, the End is here, but not yet.
It is really sort of hard to believe. We had end of the year awards night last week (and I still believe Seabury would be a great place for a gigantic game of Clue). I do not really know how I am going to feel this week. A little sad to be leaving friends, but also happy that our parole is coming through.
I guess I am saying that I feel somewhat melancholy. I am a good Anglican afterall. By melancholy, I mean "sober thoughtfulness" not "a gloomy state of mind" or certainly not the archaic meaning of "the condition of having too much black bile, considered in ancient and medieval medicine to cause gloominess and depression." That would be just gross.
We will be finally given our wings so we can fly, unleased on Christendom to practice our wares, which is a