3-2: We're all broken!

There are buildings on the horizon
Every day they keep a'risin'
And they weren't there the day before
But tomorrow there'll be more.

That's a little poem I composed in my head when I suddenly realized, walking down a street I have travelled many times since my youth, construction in the distance has changed the distant skyline to feature rather than low trees and stout suburban houses, far-off high-rise condos behind that. And of course there's the obvious meaning but I think you can feel free to think about it and let it grow in your mind and interpret it how you wish, as that is the best part of poetry, interpretation. I should get back in contact with my poetry teacher, Catherine Graham, who was a very nice, intelligent and affable woman.

I have a lot I need to be doing. I have a bunch of forms to deal with, which seems daunting and so I am avoiding it. I have a comic that I have been working like a madman on, so I'm taking a break. I have some comics to review, which I intend to get done tonight. Similarly, I intend to finally write that damn article for Scene and Heard which has been put off by my own disgruntled laziness. I envision it as being a late night, if only because I am full of caffeine and intend to get fuller. But before any of that, I need to get this post out.

Maybe there's no such thing as an ending. There's been a lot of talk about the Sopranos finale. I don't watch the show, but my brother does and, just after it aired, he described it to me. For those unaware - or if enough time has passed and some months from now I'm trying to remember - it involved the titular family in a diner, some parallel parking, Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" (a guilty pleasure song I'll admit,) and a very abrupt cut to black. So people were kinda miffed, furious about the ambiguous ending, but you know I think there's something to be said for ambiguity. There are no final chapters but death. On my last moments of high school, as you will all well recall, I had to wake up the next morning (after prom) knowing that I had to see those people as much as possible, and deal with my movie. Nothing was truly over. And on New Year's Eve, the sins of the year are not magically wiped clean and there are no do-overs. We just continue to live our lives, usually more hung-over than the night before. I just graduated Sheridan but I'm hardly done with anything. I guess it's sorta like what Semisonic sang... every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. Except sorta backwards or inverse.

I say this mostly because, for whatever reason, I found myself at the WOSS Drama Banquet this afternoon. Well, I know the reason; Wilford went to the trouble of tracking me down on Facebook (not altogether difficult if you've ever Facebook-stalked,) and the gesture seemed like a very nice one. Chrisbrown and Emma were there, as was Scott Conorton and a few of the year-above me. Sarah H., in particular, I never got to know but is in fact a very bright charismatic funny girl.

Anyway, we were talking and I got to thinking about how, even though I graduated and walked away from the school seemingly forever - even wagging middle fingers at the building - I have sat in that drama room so many times, I have spoken to those students (including people I never met until graduating) so much, I never truly ended it. And I may carry that with me, always. And you know, that's not such a bad thing as I thought at first. As high as a tree grows, it never outgrows its roots. Or something.

I think that's it for tonight all.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott