What I Love About The World

Sunday, June 18, 2006

92. University Farewells (for Good.)




These little bastards are such tricky occasions, tears are sometimes shed, massive bear-hugs are always had, sturdy handshakes are "standard", followed by a frenzied stream of compliments so badly or desparately articulated in an attempt to verbalise your deep and loving appreciation of the departing individual that you (George) end up sounding like James from that Giant Peach book saying goodbye to his folks with an inkling that they're going to be swallowed up by a rampant rhino and he'll never see them again.
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Seriously though, it's been emotional. Nothing like school where you know that you're only 18 and you'll be hooking up with your good mates for the next 3 years to indulge in gross amounts of substance abuse and pretentious chit-chat because you've got nothing better to do. Now there is that dirty word, WORK, which seems to shock people into these overblown, tearful, final-seeming expressions of love, because deep down there's that worry that from here on in stuff's going to change and it'll never be the same. Then you get all those cunts that have got another year or two left at uni. Losers. I envy you. In a way.