Senior Goodbye: Sean Pruett-Jones

Wait, I blinked. No, seriously. That was a lot faster than it felt like.

Feels like just yesterday that Mr. Holt was covering up his nose to give me a hug in Yellowstone National Park on a SEE Team trip. Ah… good times, huh?

I like to think you’re reading this on the hard copy in the lunchroom, quaffing down some very very messy food and all sorts of splotches of hot sauce or something else is dripping onto this page. That’d be sweet.

These four years have really changed me. If you knew me back in middle school, you’d know I was a goth kid. Yup. Purty great, huh? Look at me now. Hawaiian shirts, floofy hair, obscure metal bands, atrocious facial hair, and a lot of other ingredients, mainly oregano. So now, at the end of my senior year, here I stand (more like sit, I am in front of a computer after all), a fully grown cornucopia of metal bands, shirts, strange and unsociable noises, and strange mustaches, ready to go out into the world, with fond memories of Riverside Brookfield High School.

Very fond memories, indeed. After all, I’ve made friends with the silliest and most brilliant people this planet could ever hope for. God, how many times have William Voorhees and I killed each other with laughter at his house? How many times have Nick Schliep and I made new inside jokes from the stupidest things? I still remember my heart-to-hearts with Bozeday, my attempts at introducting Monti to my musical world, my videogames talks with Melquist, and so on. If I could tell you all about the antics my great friends and I have gone through, this would probably go on longer than a boring documentary about sand. Yeah, sand.

And oh my god, have they been patient with me. Have you ALL been patient with me. In one lifetime, I cannot show how grateful I am that people have put up with me for these four years. I mean, I’ve done some horrible things these four years, and I am more sorry than I could ever hope to express to everyone I’ve hurt.

I only hope you could all remember me as a majestic squid instead of a dirty little earwig.

…God it would be awesome to be a squid, wouldn’t it?

Squid or not, I am who I am today and I’m proud of it, (that sounded clichéd) and I hope to continue growing. If not up, then sideways. To put it plain and simply – I won’t forget my time here, with all of you.

Who could? Silly people, that’s who. Very, very silly people. With plates of mashed haggis for faces. That’s who. They would forget. But I wouldn’t. I never could.

So, all of you guys keep it real. You’re a great bunch and I hope to see you become all that you deserve to be.

Also, to clarify once and for all – screamo and death metal are NOT the same thing.