I realize that May is a paradox. Endings and beginnings. It has always been a hard month with leaving school and uprooting myself to live back at home, changing jobs, changing pace. It has always lead to a contradictory bout of blues. The closing of a school year and the start of summer. Warm but away.

This May, May 2012, is the May that I leave a special place forever. The May of Finiteness. Graduation Month. I've been mulling this over in my head for a few months now. It's been an on-and-off battle. I've tied some ends, embraced the idea of maturity and transitioned myself out of the childlike mindset of gravitating toward pillowy places and began looking for something harder, something less forgiving: The Real World. I decided not to get drunk every weekend, not out of any conscious choice but out of taste. I would have much rather seen Ira Glass speak in Keene than go to SAC FEST 2012 YEAHBUDDY. But my mood depended on the day. You'd catch me on a Monday, ready to take on resumes and the failing economy. I was eager to kick some ass. By Friday, however, I'd be looking for a nap, a drink and the comfort of knowing that I had friends three seconds away. A place to fall that wouldn't skin my knees. College.

Skirmish and settlement.

I ended my finals two weeks ago and moved back home. I slept in and sent out numerous resumes. I called people. I visited my best friend for two short days, talked about jobs, cried and decided that I needed to change my mind about things. I ordered a chai, rubbed my eyes, and exhaled. I was ready to take on May again.

I spent a week and a half out of my house, bouncing from floor to floor, bed to bed, and traveled up to New Hampshire to visit Saint Anselm for one last hurrah. I drank champagne, hugged a lot of people, laughed and then I graduated. Just like that. It's still a little strange knowing that the bubble of college naiveté kicked me out. It considered me ready. Ripe but still so green.

Regardless, the ceremonies were absolutely beautiful.

I'm writing this as I crash from the weekend high. I have just over a week before I start my postgrad, non-career job. Tomorrow I'll force myself to exercise and shoot photographs. Maybe I'll unpack just a little bit, so my room won't be so claustrophobic. Maybe I'll write a few letters too. Those help.

Bitter yet optimistic.