I am the puck in a game of tonsil hockey.

'Convocation' sounds like such a dirty word; it's like I'm about to receive a lobotomy. Or an enema. Or a colostomy.

I'd like to say that I've amassed a gargantuan amount of priceless life experiences and epiphanies during the last 7 years in tertiary education; how else could you make up for the ultimate blemish on anyone's permanent record? Granted, it's taken Axl Rose more than 7 years to come up with Chinese Democracy, but I'm not a hermit rocker on the cusp of reaching the brim; I'm simply someone who might have taken too long to achieve a goal that was irrelevant, and hardly irreverent, to everybody around him.

In all honesty, although the goal's been achieved, it only goads me into another tiring, arduous endeavor that means to drain me of whatever life juices I have left...for a longer term.

Alas, for now, I'm going to pat myself on the back (although my girth ensures me that such an act is impossible) and welcome myself to the rest of my life...although it's for real, this time.

Then again, since most of you tossers had moved on with your life years ago, I suppose it's only appropriate that the self-anointed Laggard King amongst you finally starts strolling upon the beaten path.




At the very least, at least I can fund a long-standing comic book addiction.