Club Pseudo- Scott Swanson Memorial Edition

This entry has been bouncing around my brain since Saturday night. I felt about a dozen different emotions during the memorial. I missed Scott and was sad for his passing too soon, but I also felt a joyous warmth from the celebration of his amazing life.

The event itself was perfect. It encompassed all of the good memories I had about IMSA's open mic night of music, readings, and cheesy, derivative sketch comedy. Scott would have loved it.

I went into the memorial with a great deal of anxiety. I'm not very proud of the spazzy teen version of me. I made a lot of mistakes. IMSA was an intense experience. At the time, I didn't possess the maturity or mental stability to handle a residential school for the gifted-- thus my flaming out after a Junior year of DRAMA. These people saw me at my worst.

It seems that all of that crap doesn't matter. Caitlin and I had a wonderful time. I reconnected with friends and buried the hatchet with some people who I left on bad terms. I'm glad I went.

Scott had one last gift for us all; he made sure that our friendships would last forever.