Commencement

Consette has an inappropriate and wholly consuming crush on President Colin. If any further evidence were needed to justify this, his introductory 'woohhooooo!' at the Reed Commencement Ceremony is nothing short of the sexiest thing ever. He follows the 'woohhooooo!' with an extended analogy between himself and the Queen of England, both of them, indeed, at the head of a large unruly family who attract a lot of attention from the press. The official commencement address from a Reed alumna seems rather anodyne and over-earnest by comparison.

The idiot et al decide at the last minute to tart it up for Commencement. I am always immaculately turned out, but seeing the idiot in a dress is a little unnerving. When she was 11 her elder brother so delicately informed her that she had "legs like tree trunks". Oh well, they need an airing sometime. Although you can wear whatever you so desire at Reed events, and although President Colin sets the tone of informal celebration with his opening 'remark', Commencement still projects a certain sense of gravitas. Bagpipes accompany the procession, for goodness sake. The programme alone, containing every single thesis title for every single 2010-11 senior, attests to the formidable body of work these guys have to complete before graduating. For some this is the most important Reed ritual they will take part in, or at least a close second after the bonfire at Thesis Parade. So yeah, put on a dress you goddam slacker exchange student, and show your respect.

The graduating class, on the other hand, conceal a whole load of garish undergarments beneath those robes. One bloke flashes a pair of stars and stripes skin-tight briefs when he receives his diploma. The applause is raucous, and the audience yells and whoops at the seniors as they shake Colin's hand. Some get cheers so loud that you have to feel sorry for the person behind them. It is customary to give the President a gift as he gives you your diploma: there are many feather boas, and one girl boasts a moose head bust.

The champagne reception is held in the Quad. The day is grey and drizzly, but thank goodness there's a marquee. The food on offer is basically just the biggest cheese plate you ever saw. I eat four slices of Brie Pie, and hail the completely astounding human being who thought of spreading jam over cheese and wrapping it in pastry. Once stuffed, we make our excuses and return to the dorm to complete our packing. The room must be left immaculate, otherwise the powers that be knock dollars quite arbitrarily off your deposit. The idiot delegates tasks, and I spend 2 hours trying to remove a pasting of dried ginger ale and glitter from the floor - nostalgic residue from Renn Fayre. Later we meet up with some of the others in the French House and, after much deliberation, decide what to do on the final evening. We want to go the best restaurant and have the best memories and drink at the best bar etc etc, to guarantee the greatest and saddest night possible. But in the end the pressure to have fun is too stressful. We choose at random a very pleasant restaurant called The Grain and Gristle in Northeast Portland, for muffalettas and cider. A muffaletta is a New Orleans sandwich of focaccia, olives, pickled veg, ham, cured meats, and emmental. From there we go to the Doug Fir for the graduation party, and the idiot bids farewell to a series of formative friendships, some of which might have turned into something good with more time to prove. By prove, I mean prove like bread dough - double in size. She drunkenly invites everyone to England to stay in her AmericanEnglish Commune (ie. the house of the parental unit).

The after party at the Spanish House is subdued. Justine brings out tubs of Ben & Jerry's and we eat in almost-silence. On saying goodbye to them all - Aurore, Febee, Justine, Aaron and Lucia - the idiot apologies for not being able to cry in front of people. Walking home, though, I am embarrassed by her sobs and am forced to avert my eyes.

Consette x