The Goodbye

This is it fellow classmates. The final blog.

First off, I want to say that blogging all year has greatly developed me into a better writer than what I was before. I realized that there is much more to writing than just using proper grammar; one must write with emotion and passion, it is far more important than spelling. I would also like to mention how much I enjoyed this AP Language class. Although it was an AP class, it didn't always seem like one (I mean that in the best way possible Ms. Gunter). Something about the atmosphere was relaxing, and it enabled me to actually enjoy the time I spent in the room.

Secondly, I want to thank everyone for making the class, and the whole school year, a blast. I may seem like a meanie at times, and maybe even come off as arrogant to some. But I assure you, I don't mean to be. I'll deeply miss all of you next year.

James Shockley is such an inspiration. Let's face it, we all love DC. Sure, Mr. Constant would have been nice, and a win in Halls and Walls would have been too, but regardless, we love it. We are madly in love with the four years we spent here, and the people we spent them with. How could you not be? I would like for you to read a passage from a book called Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller.

And I could not have known then that if I had been born here, I would have left here, gone someplace south to deal with horses, to get on some open land where you can see tomorrow's storm brewing over a high desert. I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing, and I want to change because it is God's way. All my life I have been changing. I changed from a baby to a child, from soft toys to play daggers. I changed into a teenager to drive a car, into a worker to spend some money. I will change into a husband to love a woman, into a father to love a child, change houses so we are near water, and again so we are near mountains, and again so we are near friends, keep changing with my wife, getting our love so it dies and gets born again and again, like a garden, fed by four seasons, a cycle of change. Everybody has to change, or they expire. Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.

With that, I want to say goodbye. Much love. Mucho grande.