Me, as homecoming king, and Annie, as homecoming queen, on the homecoming parade float on September 28th, 2013; just one of the many noteworthy things about my senior year.
This blog is so long overdue that writing it now is actually kind of an awkward experience. At the end of my sophomore year, I was sure to promptly write my "Certified Junior" blog the day I was let out of school. At the end of my junior year, I was sure to write my blog "Ridin' the Storm Out" that same day I was let out as well. With my senior reflection blog, I planned on releasing it June 9th, 2014, just three days after I graduated due to the fact that my weekend had been congested, what with graduation, an eight hour shift Saturday, then a busy day of chores and added labor on Sunday. That date never materialized and I wanted to be sure I watched enough films to make up for the lack of movies I watched the first week of June, what with the twenty-eight hour week I pulled at the liquor store I work at.
I release this senior reflection blog later than I ever wanted to with the "better late than never attitude" you would likely occupy if you were in this same sort of boat as me. Not to mention, the reason I didn't feel wholly bad about delaying this blog was because of the fact that I felt my senior prom blog was a fitting little wrap-up of the year in some way, although, from what I've been told by quite a few people, nothing beats my end of the year reflection blog.
Me posing with the most tolerant princess in the world, Kelly. I think I've said almost everything about her I can think of, but there is still the butting feeling that I won't be able to repay her for her incredibly unexpected kindness and her acceptance of people, which is really as beautiful as she is. Cannot wait to see where she goes in the near-future.
Trying to forgo all the cliches and oversimplifications that can easily be brought forth here, senior year was a whirlwind of recognition, emotion, and realization for me, and frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. This was a landmark year, and serves as my favorite year of school yet. I looked forward to coming to school - waking up at 4:30am (by choice) to spend eight hours in an institution full of great people, great teachers, warm environments, and interesting lessons in classes I looked forward to (business law, journalism, film studies, critical lenses, and Spanish II just to name a few). I realize how atypical my case is, which is why I feel sharing it will provide for a unique reading experience for many, even those who know me personally and witnessed all of this madness unfold. This is for you guys.
From the first few weeks of school, I was welcomed with an overwhelming display of love and affection, unlike any I had received before. Four years ago, most of these people were complete and total strangers, hailing from high schools I never heard of and a community I wasn't really a part of. No, I didn't move, but my middle school rested on the boundary lines, meaning about seventy-five to eighty percent of our eighth grade graduating class went to one school and the remaining twenty who lived on the opposite side of a large, divisive street went to another. I followed the latter half. It was like going to college in terms of how many people I knew were in the same environment as me. Freshman year, I won't disguise it, I was pessimistic, nervous, and felt unwelcome, being that everyone else had their entire graduating class go to the same high school while most of my close friends went to another. It was frustrating and I was bitter about the whole thing.
A beautiful prom picture with two gorgeous ladies to boot; Amy, a good friend boasting reddish, auburn-colored hair, and Nichole, somebody who has occupied at least one of my classes each year in high school, at Crystal Gardens in Navy Pier for prom.
Fast-forward to senior year, and I couldn't have been happier with the people I met, the connections I formed, the self-promotion I did, and the payoff I earned from some of the kindest people I've come to know. Yet by my side were three souls I held near and dear to my heart since freshman year - my loyal and wickedly intelligent friend Sam, my hilarious buddy Elijah, who I could always talk music with (both of these guys went to the same elementary and middle school as me), and my buddy Josh, my first wife and my "hetero-life mate." Just three weeks after starting school, on my way to gym, my first class of the morning, I got a mysterious envelope from the teacher. "I don't know what it is, Steve," my gym teacher told me, a loyal follower of my work and a hilarious presence, "maybe you won the lottery and can ditch all of us, I don't know," he continued. The white business envelope beared a sticker with my name on it. "Is that what I think it is? I got one of those too," my good-buddy Kevin said, as he was walking into the locker room with me. I opened it and I thought I had been handed something incorrectly; this letter said I had been nominated for homecoming king. The writer who wore gray everyday, wrote film reviews, and had a mullet was about to represent the school's second biggest dance of the year? Bullshit.
It was indeed the truth. The letter said I had to keep this nomination secret until Friday, September 21th, 2013, and that specific day was a Wednesday. Being somebody who can't keep his mouth shut, I struggled with this, but was pumped up and excited all the more. I could hardly concentrate in class and I couldn't tell people why. By the end of that day I told about five of my closest friends and that's it. Friday, I came to school dressed in business formal, as the letter instructed, with numerous people asking why, being that my specific dress pattern - gray shirts and gray sweatpants - is easy to spot and incredibly memorable. "You'll see," I told them, because during second period that Friday, the announcement would come on the loudspeaker listing the nominations for homecoming king and queen.
Sure enough, the announcement came through. My journalism class - my second period class - cheered and applauded for me. My teacher, who went on to be one of my favorite teachers of all time, smiled and congratulated me. It was a lot to take in and it was only 9:00am. Throughout the day, I was thanked, supported, and embraced by my teachers, classmates, and loyal friends, whom I've gone from not even knowing their first name to being close enough with many of them that I could liberally say what I wanted to in front of them. "Steve Pulaski for homecoming king!," my good friend Annie screamed throughout the hallways immediately after second period. For me? Come on.
My other friend Ben, whom I went with to prom if you recall my prom blog, was nominated for homecoming king as well. He had won with a gorgeous, effervescent woman named Brittney, who was also nominated again this year. Ben wanted Brittney and I to win, and told everyone he could to vote for me. "The homecoming king gets all the respect and love from the student body, especially the ladies," Ben told me during our business law class that Friday. "I already had that, I want you to experience it."
The nominees for homecoming king and queen, each accompanying their partners at the homecoming pep assembly, with the two winners - Annie and myself - at the forefront.
The homecoming pep rally/football game was held on Friday, September 28, 2013, which goes down as one of the best days in my young life. I came in business formal, the same outfit I wore the day of the announcement, and was ready for an incredible day of emotion. I was nervous as hell, so much so that I had a hard time eating and could barely down my bottle of RC and muffin at lunch. My mouth was frequently dry, my legs wouldn't sit still, and I found myself paranoid about doing something wrong the whole day, but fervently excited all the more. I waited until 2:10pm, when the assembly/pep rally was due to begin. I met with all the other nominees and sat at tables on the court with all the other nominees, probably the best seat in the house for watching all the pep rally madness occur. I saw my two loyal best friends, Elijah and Sam, wearing gray, supporting me, and flashing me the "thumbs up" signal every time I looked at them. Seeing them, my mind drifted to freshman year, where I sat with Sam during one our first homecoming peop assembly when he told me, "you're gonna be up there for homecoming king one day." "Go fuck yourself," I remember telling him.
Me leading the cheers at the homecoming football game (I had a lot more fun than this picture suggests, FYI).
After about an hour of celebratory events during the assembly finally came the homecoming king/queen announcement, where the boys and girls would walk down the lengthy red carpet in pairs, sometimes performing a goofy little skit, as they marched down to the stage. I walked with a girl named Annie, a kind woman with down syndrome who suffered from leukemia the previous year and missed almost an entire year of school. She was shy but grateful, one could tell, and I marched down the red carpet with her. Finally, we lined up on a small stage, in an orderly fashion, with the band director announcing the winner. "Ladies and gentleman, you're homecoming king is... Steven Pulaski." With that, the crowd erupted; the floor-section, which housed most of the senior and junior class, the class I got to know the most at my time at North, stood up and wailed, making some of the most deafening noise I've ever heard. I never understood the definition of "overwhelming" until I stood before nearly everyone in the school and watched them cheer for me. "And you're homecoming queen is... Annie [....]," the band director followed up, to an equally, if not more deafening round of applause before students granted her with a bouquet of flowers and her own tiara. Following that was an incredible homecoming parade through the streets around the school and an extremely fun homecoming football game that served as the first high school football game I had ever been to in my life. It was all just way too much to take in, especially the football game, where I hugged dozens of people, stood on the ladder before the "student section" of the bleachers, engaging the class in some rabble-rousing cheers (thanks to my buddy Sanad, whom I've known since first grade), and living up this intoxicating endeavor. Even my neighbors came to the game to see what would unravel. Just before the game, me and the other nominees were announced and recognized on the football field.
Picture before the homecoming dance,
taken at my friend Sarah's house, who I'm sure didn't even know I was
there given the onslaught of people who showed up. This one is taken
with my good friend Megan, in probably the most gorgeous and original
dress I saw at the dance all night.
Writing this blog right now has brought back all those emotions, thoughts, and sounds (especially my soundtrack of the whole entire event, brought to you by none other than Chief Keef) of September 2013. Some will laugh when I say that was the best time of my life, but seeing as how many writers and bloggers rarely get the recognition they deserve, it was an honor to be greeted with all this love and support. I couldn't imagine how the remaining months of school would live up to this.
A great picture of me and another friend of mine named Katie, who couldn't believe I knew her name at the football.
They found a way. Homecoming king wasn't all the recognition I got my senior year. I was granted the "Sons of the American Revolution" award for outstanding citizenship in the community, an award I, myself, am not sure I really deserved but what still grateful for the honor and the love. Moreover, I won a couple sizable scholarships, attended prom in a handsome gray suit, tightened connections with those I loved, talked to the girls I found smart and intelligent, did some things I never thought I would, and took risks I never foresaw myself doing. It was my coming-of-age year and it was better than any film I had ever seen. Ever.
As far as my performance academically, I performed a tad better than I did my junior year, maintaining a rather constant GPA of 3.2 or so. If any class caused me the most grief this year, it was accounting, a class I was implored to take by my former-bookkeeper grandmother, who clearly wishes her grandson expressed interest in accounting and number-crunching than film criticism and writing. Accounting was an intriguing course in many aspects, as you're essentially learning not just the backbone of a business, but the language of it too, performing tricky and often confusing actions with militaristic precision and order.
Me and my hetero-life mate/"first wife" Josh pregaming for prom. If you were to ask me the person who left the biggest impact on me my four years of high school, you're looking at him.
Thanks to the assistance of a wonderful teacher, I made it through, but not before enduring one the roughest project of my academic career. It was a month-long accounting simulation; imagine you're the only accountant at a steadily-growing business, controlling dozens of accounts for the business, monitoring ingoing/outgoing finances, writing checks, and keeping the company/franchise afloat, working by hand with no computers. It was mutilating, incomparably frustrating, and resulted in me firing winded emails to my long-suffering accounting teacher, who endured countless, labor intensive hours of grading and planning. Nonetheless, after enough curse words preventing me from entering the pearly gates were uttered, I made it through and received an acceptable grade.
The crucial piece of information I'm missing, as I get caught up in all this emotional madness, is applying for colleges and securing admission at a school for another four years. Frankly, I didn't get absorbed in all the pressure many of my peers did, and wound up only applying to three schools, with the mindset of commuting and living at home. Benedictine University in Lisle, IL, Lewis University in Romeoville, IL, and North Central College in Naperville, IL saw applications from me, all of which responded with acceptance letters, before me settling on North Central College in one of the most casual decisions in my life. I knew applying for all three schools that North Central was going to be where I'd choose to spend my college years, being that it was close, marginally affordable on my family's budget, had what I wanted - everything from the rather small campus, small student to teacher ratio, and suburban environment - and just seemed like a place filled with professors and people I could fittingly acquaint myself with. I start school on September 15th, 2014, and will provide my thoughts on college, freshman year, and my future studies in a forthcoming blog post I'll release in late August/early September. I'll also hit you guys with a blog on my personal experience with driving along with announcing another blog series in vein of the "One-Hundred Songs of Steve Pulaski" in early September as well. Stay tuned...
Me and my good friend Melanie posing on "Gray Day." She's always been a huge supporter, one I say loves me more than both my mother and father.
Finally, there were two other major events before senior year concluded, on top of all the amazing days I spent either networking with new teachers and students, reading reviews in class, or just embracing my last year of high school with some of the nicest people I've come to know. Those events were "Gray Day" and prom, "Gray Day" being March 10th, 2014, the day where I revealed why I wore gray almost every day since sophomore year. I still don't think I can articulate just how prevalent my gray attire was in school, for those who don't know me personally. It seemed every day, at least once a period, people were commenting on my outfit, making up their own reasons, asking me several questions related to the outfit, and sometimes copying me and saying they're "graying up for Steve." I was honored, floored, and I wanted to reveal the reason on a meaningful day, which people surprisingly took seriously and dressed up for, with the news spreading around the high school like wildfire. "Rumor has it you got a big announcement coming at 4:00pm today," my film studies/critical lenses teacher told me. "People are actually talking about that?," I asked. "Um, yeah, it's all I've been hearing in every one of my classes. You're making things happen, Mr. Pulaski." The blog can be found on this website for those who have yet to read it.
My good buddy Sanad who, since first grade, has had my back and has been someone I could be unfiltered and honest with. Love this post-prom picture because every time I look at it I hear him saying, "no smiles, just mug."
The latter event, prom, was an event I planned on blowing off all throughout high school, writing it off as a meaningless event if one didn't bring a date or was in a committed relationship with somebody. It wasn't until I was greeted with such kindness and amiability my junior and senior year that I realized I could go alone and still have a damn good time if I stuck to what I believed would make the night memorable and fun - talking with people and embracing the environment. Last minute, I decided to go, going to get fitted for a tuxedo with my father - all gray, everything - and spent the night with my buddy Ben after a shakeup with his date situation occurred. As cliche as it sounds, the night will be one I remember for a lifetime, and the blog where I "review" prom can be found on this website as well.
My other good friend Emily, posing with me at the graduation rehearsal, whom, like Melanie, I believe, loves me more than my mother and father do.
Then we have the obligatory honors convocation, where the senior class is recognized for their achievements of their four years of high school, and then the graduation/commencement ceremony, both very nice, lovely representations of our year, but geared more to the parents than us. Prom, the sports games, the hangouts in the hallway, the fun get-togethers after school, the casual, directionless conversations we engage in during class that we'll remember more than the actual lessons we were taught (believe me, I've had plenty of those and reminded my peers of that fact as well), and events we participated in during our four years were for us. Now we put on gorgeous, dapper attire, are handed our diplomas, hug some teachers, bear hug our peers, and move forward, in a sad but true closure of a chapter in our lives.
Detest the black bars on this picture, but couldn't not put a picture of me with the inimitable "Blazen" Rachel Hazen, who, like my friend Kelly, endured way more of me than any woman should our senior year. Thanks for making accounting less of a hassle than it already was.
For many of my peers, they couldn't wait to get out. I'd slog back in my chair, taking in the atmosphere of a class and often overhear from my friends, "I don't have the strength for the rest of high school," or, "I can't wait for this year to be over. Meanwhile, I'd shake my head and just wish in some way, shape, or form the stars would align and I got to miraculously have a fifth year of high school with this amazing class of students who found it in their hearts to support me and give me the selfless support and encouragement I didn't even think I deserved. I'd rather take another year of high school than go off to college this fall and I'm dead serious when I say that. It would give me more time to further evaluate my decision of what to study, would give me more time with some deeply impacting people, and would give me one more year of experimentation with class structure and course-load. But that opportunity has long passed and I'm a college student now, English major to be precise. But that's a whole other blog on a whole different day.
Like most of my blog posts, I can't figure out how to wrap this up meaningfully. This work seems to speak for itself and doesn't need any kind of cute "one sentence summary," facile conclusion to wrap things up, or a closure in line of the dreaded and perfunctory "MELCON" essay format. I'll use this time to thank each and every one of those I was grateful enough to meet and talk to in school, and to those whom I didn't really get to talk to, consider yourself lucky. I may've saved you quite the headache.
Hi ! Emily she is very beautiful ,and congratulations !
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