Vanity

Is there a downside to writing this blog when I'm exhausted, tipsy, wearing a peptide mask, and feeling nostalgic? Only that it might be too gut-wrenching, too emotional, and too raw.  Also, punctuation will probably suffer slightly.

So I'm graduating from college this Sunday, and while I am completely not one to get wrapped up in occasions and tend to shy away from all things involving self-congratulation, this, for some reason, actually feels important.   Despite objections to the contrary, I'm a very logical person.  And my logic is thus: everyone "graduates" from elementary school, nearly everyone reaches high school, most people get their diplomas, but there still are a lot of people who don't get a college degree, even less who get a four-year degree, and even less still who get a four-year degree from an esteemed private school and do so with honors.   So, for the first time in my life, I feel like this is an accomplishment.  And I'm actually really proud of myself.  I might, maybe, kinda, sorta be a bfd.

It's fun to really feel like the center of attention instead of the nerdy kid who got picked last for dodgeball.  I went out for dinner with my roommates and their parents tonight at Bravo by the Dayton Mall, and for the first time in a long time I was completely un-self-concious and at ease with myself.   Don't get me wrong--I talked to loudly, drank too much wine, told inappropriate stories, laughed with my mouth open, and while getting ready, my hair wouldn't curl right and my dress made me look fat and I had a huge, practical joke zit on my forehead--but I also felt like, "hey, you're here because you love me, and if you don't, you can talk about how much you hate me later."   And not to get too Dr. Phil on ya'll, but that's a big step for the girl who used to get so nervous about social situations she would try on 7 different outfits before deciding she was too ridiculous to go out in public.  This Annie isn't the prettiest girl in the room, but damn if she won't be the one laughing the hardest.  I have such joy and humor, and I'm finally realizing these things make me strong, they're not embarrassing.   I will never be that girl who can wax eloquent for 45 minutes about wallpaper patterns, but I do know a good joke about a nun, a rabbi, and a hooker...

As I re-read this I'm a little annoyed because I hate serious blogs, especially those which could conceivably double as journal entries...you guys don't need to know I'm afraid of clowns or that I think the boy in my history class is "dreamy".  But I do want to say that at some point of sitting at Bravo and cracking jokes about my past escapades, I thought to myself, "This girl is a peach, I'd want to be her friend," and "this girl" was myself.  I've always been vain, but in the past it's been a mechanism to hide crippling insecurities, the kind that would keep me from ever auditioning for a Subway commercial, but now, I am vain in a legitimate way.  Vain because I like myself.  Vain because I accomplished a whole fuck ton.   And vain because I really, seriously, will never settle for anything less than I want out of life.  The world is my oyster.  And I'm going to shoot that sum bitch with horseradish.