There's a shiny red car, parked downstairs where my beat-up minivan used to be. My car is shiny and red. It is my car. It is a Toyota Echo, and it has never been owned by anyone before ever.
I'm now the proud possessor of $9,000 in debt and a shiny red Toyota Echo.
You'd better believe there will be pictures soon.
And then there's this dress and shoes in my closet, hanging next to a long black robe. In six hours, I line up to walk across the stage of the Shrine Auditorium.
I graduate today.
If you weren't grown up already, speaketh the world, now's a good time to start.
It's just the end of the only constant in my life for the past seventeen years. Wake up, go to school. Now, it'll be wake up, go to one of three jobs. Now, it'll mean finding a job with some permanency and making car payments and, oh yeah, writing a screenplay.
But on my TV, it's "Graduation Day, Parts 1 and 2." Buffy doesn't end on the day, and neither does my life. This is just a change, a change of shoes and a new car and new things to look forward to.