Picture Perfect

Maya Doll, Editor-in-Chief

Sometimes, I wish my life was like the montage part of an 80’s movie. The main character figures out the perfect solution to the problem while Kenny Loggins’ “Footloose” plays in the background. I just want to get dressed one morning with cool music in the background, strategic zooms on my jewelry, an interruption from my annoying kid brother, and then a full body shot of my eccentric outfit before I head out the door in my parents beat up Mercedes Benz. Is that so much to ask?

In an 80’s movie montage, my life could be boiled down to leaning against lockers, gazing longingly at the most popular guy in school, and taking a whole movie’s worth of content to realize I was actually in love with my best friend the whole time. I wouldn’t have to go to any class for more than five minutes, except for gym, of course, where the guy’s shorts would be just as short as the girls.

More importantly, college in an 80’s movie was either far, far, FAR, from anyone’s mind or it cost about 7x less than any of the schools I’m currently considering. You never saw Ferris Bueller checking the status of his Common App or frantically searching for scholarships at the last second. Senior year is SUPPOSED to be fun, but somehow I’m more stressed than ever.

Maybe it’s the persistency of the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, the cousins, and the old family friends asking where I’m going and what I’m doing. Maybe it’s the fact that the answer is still “I don’t know.” Maybe it’s the full load of classes I chose to take and the ever growing pile of homework left day by day in my backpack. Whatever it actually is, I’m sure it would make Ferris’ head hurt enough not to have to pretend to be sick.

It would be so much easier to just squish my senior year into an hour and a half loop and come out the other end knowing what in the world I’m doing next year. But that’s my brain telling me that the end goal is more important than the journey. The best part about senior year is supposed to be the experience. I don’t want to lose that, but the movie montage only shows the good parts.

I only want to remember the acceptance letters and the “last first” everything. I want pictures of my homecoming and my prom and my graduation. I want snapshots of my friends, old and new, laughing and talking. I want to make it good. I want to make it memorable. So that’s what I’m going to do.