Wizard School Graduate
Beloved wizards and magicians of the greater San Diego area, it is time for me to hang up my hat and cloak in favor of the human “cap and gown.” It has been a long, terrible 40 years of wizarding education, but betwixt the alchemy and the conjuring and the year spent in silent ponderance, I have made friends — more friends than I have ever had in my previous 180 years of existence. Now, at the ripe age of 220, I stand before a precipice, ready to take the leap into true magicks for the rest of my life — this so-called “real world.” You “under-graduates” shall understand soon, but I would not dream to rush you.
Alas! I still have many problems. These children of the modern day believe in only a gap “year” rather than a gap decade — such a span is hardly a break! But my future employers will undoubtedly be displeased if I have a gap on my résumé longer than what is socially acceptable, and the churning machine of capitalism demands my eternal servitude. If I am to have a year, I must decide how to spend it — with an internship? A stint in retail? Preparing for the next leg of my education? I know nothing, and that makes it impossible to enjoy my fleeting final weeks of structured life. I must also determine where I will live, if I shall vacation in this beautiful final summer, how to get the pesky Wise Teeth out of my mouth (they confer wisdom to most, but only pain to me), and I still must take finals on top of it all. What does it take for a wizard in this world to get a break?
Here, I know but a few things, and I shall recount them. Career goals? I wish to study the arcane arts, not climb the corporate ladder. Life goals? Perhaps I shall summon a demon to be my companion for the rest of eternity. My lack of experience? I have been far too busy living through the horrors to seek employment at a “fast-food joint.” Please stop asking questions.
With only a few short weeks left, I have finally found a conclusion: the Pacific Ocean. She is beautiful, and she is right there. I have attempted to tame her before and failed, as such a feat is beyond my power — the folly of youth, as the kids say. But now, I shall not fail: there is no capitalism in the ocean. I have trained for decades in water-breathing spells, and the deep-sea fish are far older than I. It is my goal to vanish into the ocean until I have gathered enough information to become a published researcher — or until I have established a small home hidden from military view. Or perhaps I will simply keep walking until I arrive on the other side of the world, where I will drink cocktails and play Yu-Gi-Oh! until I grow bored. If you spot me on the beaches of Queensland, you may wave. I will wave back.
