The end is near.
Intersession will be over in a few short days.
I think I can make it.
Convocation.
I love Convocation.
I am reminded of all the times I graduated.
And there were a few.
But a STU Convocation is special to me.
I remember walking across that same stage.
The nervousness about not tripping in front of everyone.
Excitement, over finally accomplishing something.
Mer, at five years old, yelling "YEAH MUM!" as I got my degree and hearing its echo through the cavernous Aitken Center.
Mer, who was wearing a bright tangerine colored sweater my grandmother had made for me when I was her age.
In a room that looks like a cavern, she was a little beacon.
I needed to know where everyone was sitting, of course.
And now it's my turn to march in with my colleagues, sit at the stage and watch as the students get their hard earned (at least in most cases) degrees.
Wearing my own version of the tangerine colored sweater.
That's Stephen behind me.
I look like I have a bustle under my robe.
Making sure I don't trip, or fall, or do anything that would compromise my precarious standing position.
I am wearing the doctoral robes and hood of UNB.
University of New Brunswick, where I received my MA and PhD.
The robes and hat were a very expensive gift from my parents.
Even more expensive when you consider I only wear them maybe, at the most, in a good year, twice.
Although they fit me better now than they did when I first got them.
Of course, there is the Convocation Tea afterwards, where all the starving guests, graduates and faculty congregate to recover from the two and half hour long ceremony.
And pictures are taken.
I don't like having my picture taken.
But I realize it's important to the students, so I oblige.
This year, however, Mr. Cranky Pants, aka Stephen, didn't want to stick around for the tea.
He never does.
But this year he was particularly forceful in his demand that we not stay.
He doesn't like crowds.
And as the skies opened on Convocation Day, soaking everyone who was outside for more than 3 seconds, the room was even more crowded. . .with wet people who couldn't escape to the outside.
Hence his being most insistent that we head home asap.
But I did manage a couple of shots.
Me and Josh. . .my Vicar of Dibley compadre:
Me and Ashley. . .and I am really much happier than I look in this picture. I don't know what was going on in my head at the time:
Me and Josh and Jason:
And I can see that I've lost 70 pounds, but, I can also see I have a HELL of a lot more to go.
Still, I am looking better than I did a couple of years ago:
I don't know WHAT I was thinking letting myself get to this state.
Thankfully, I am in the process of moving forward.
People on my Dad's side think I look like my grandmother:
I'd be happy to not look like the Goodyear Blimp.
Title Lyric: Graduation Day by Chris Isaak
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