steph's blog

well. last night i graduated. the experience wasn't exactly what i thought it would be, but it was cool nonetheless. i felt so blessed to be able to sit on the stage and watch my best friends in the whole world graduate. it was so cool to look out over my classmates, see 512 faces, most of which i'll never see again. i thought i would cry, but i didn't. the whole thing just kinda seemed like a dream to me, a dream i kinda floated through. i'm still not sure it was my legs carrying me as i walked across the stage or my voice screaming and hollering as i moved my tassel and threw my hat. i guess this will all sink in sometime. until then, i have a whole summer to look forward to. girl's state is coming up, and i am soooo excited about it...it should be really really fun!

in other news, my scrapbook is moving slowly but surely towards completion. i'm almost done with the section on marching season, which is easily the largest section of my scrapbook, so when i'm done with it i should be...hmmm...maybe halfway done? so that's coming well. i want to finish the marching section before i leave for orientation/girl's state...

tyler sent me this poem, and i just thought it was really cool, so i'm going to post it:

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

-Rudyard Kipling