So far I've lived the high life of post-finals by having a very ordinary dinner of leftover soup and bread, getting worked up over the new Buffy episode, and instructing my cats to get off the velvet chairs which they are furring up at an appalling rate. I'd talk about the episode here except Season Seven isn't being broadcast in England or Australia on the same schedule and I don't want to spoil anything for my friends. But believe me, it's a good kick-ass episode to keep the excitement high through the next five weeks while the bizarro world of network television breaks up the season with repeats and Very Special specials.

Of course, there's still the uber-excitement of getting up at my normal time on my day off so I can be at the DMV in time to register my vehicle tomorrow. Man, talking about livin' large. But I had to be sure I'd be through with however long that process takes in time to see the first showing of The Two Towers. There is no way I'd jeopardize that. I am not as cool as Lunesse who is seeing it about three hours from now at midnight-oh-one with everyone at her office. We've agreed to look for each other on AIM after I get back tomorrow so we can discuss it in geeky fangirl detail. That's pretty much it for graduation hijinks.

Right now I'm listening to a CD by an old friend, Pamela Golden, which I found through a long process of research and links and a visit to the resellers' area of amazon.com last week. It's not the solo album I would have expected her to make. The Visible Targets, a popular Seattle band in the late 70's and early 80's consisting of Pamela, her sisters Rebecca Hamilton and Laura Keane, and a friend named Ron Simmons, were classic intelligent and danceable New Wave. This CD, issued six years after the band broke up, is much quirkier and somewhere on the axis where pop and electronica cross over, with hints of Dionne Warwick and Kate Bush. It's clear Pamela has changed as a person and grown as an artist since I knew her. Her album is interesting although the emotional tone is a bit melancholic for me. I suspect it will grow on me with repeated listenings, and possibly suit me more when I'm in a less elated mood.

It's also very interesting to see a photo of her taken nine years after I'd last seen her. It's so peculiar to see people all grown up (we were in our very early twenties when we knew each other). This must be my year for finally connecting with my Seattle past. I'm going to see Craig Loper in a couple of days; I had email from his bandmate Mark Munson in May; one of my college buddies wrote to me to come out as transgendered and to simply get in touch; in February I hung out with a woman I knew in high school. I would love to see Pamela and Rebecca and Laura again, but at least I'm sure that they are still alive and well. The only piece missing, really, is finding out what ever happened to Joan Hovnanian, my best friend in college. I think if I knew that I could connect all the dots. What picture would it make?

I'll never know. I can't see what others see. But I'm someone who craves closure. Loose ends, unfinished sentences, old relationships sundered on the rocks of immaturity or neglect, water under the bridge...I wish it didn't have to be that way. I move forward all the time, certain that I cannot tarry in mediocrity or blind comfort. But I look over my shoulder, sorry that moving forward means leaving some things behind. When I come across those things again it means a great deal to me. Like hearing from an old friend and still being able to connect. Like having to take piano and getting it right this time. Like finally getting my degree in music.

I am a college graduate. The wonder of this is almost painfully joyous. I did it. I did it.

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