Feeling: exhilirated
Listening to: Enima - Pharoah's Dream
Reading/Watching: no time, all celebrating all the time.

I hate to rip off Bear's idea from last year, but right now all I want to do is open my resume, and change "graduatING" to "graduatED."

Yesterday for Baccalaureate, the choir director wasn't feeling well. He was grayish, sweating, clutching his chest, but insisting over and over that he was fine.

The choir members were so concerned that when I walked in the door, running late from taking the graduate picture with the Honors crew, Libby and Mini-Me (the president & VP) approached me, asking if I could conduct.

I stammered and got nervous, and realized my parents were walking over to say hello.

The minutes ticked away, until it was time for the prelude music to start. The great captain was still struggling, but campus police insisted on taking his blood pressure, saying that if it was too high, he would have to leave because it was too great of a "liability" for him to stay. He gave in, taking off for the hospital.

And suddenly, it was just me, in my synthetic fabric black graduation gown, with that ridiculous square hat, flipping through the music and trying not to think about how I'd never done more than lead sectional rehearsals, and suddenly I'm pinch-hitting in front of hundreds of people.

I couldn't decide whether to be proud that my parents were there to watch me conduct, or terrified that my parents were there to watch me fail miserably.

The choir was so careful, so supportive, watching my every move, that we stayed together and managed not to suck. I started breathing easier then.

We got through the preludes, the opening prayers, the hymns, the entire night. I stood there in that ugly gown (I took off the hat; the tassel kept bouncing and swinging into my face when I beat time), and suddenly realized that this was the sort of moment that proves whether those thousands of tuition dollars were worth it. I kept eye contact with my singers, I urged them louder, I quieted them, I cued them, I made them smile. They stayed with me, they followed my instructions, they trusted me, and we made music. I was the real deal, instead of a pretender who nervously beats time while the choir rolls their eyes and ignores me.

It was an incredible rush.

The whole walking-across-the-stage ceremony today pales in comparison to that. Today, I stood in front of clapping family and friends, they called my name, I shook the dean's hand, I posed for pictures. Today, I got my diploma.

Last night, I graduated.

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