A great ride must end

The most interesting thing about writing, in my opinion, is that one is never finished. One is never satisfied. It's like molding a sculpture out of clay that never hardens, where you always notice some slight imperfection and mold it back into perfection. There's always a word that could be changed, an anecdote that could be made funnier, a million revisions to the paragraph which has turned stale in your eyes.

No writing can ever be truly perfect to the writer. It can be near perfect, but never actually reach that point of perfection.

Ironically, my practice PSAT in sophomore year had a great passage about this frustration with near-perfection. I wish I had it so I could quote from it about my feelings with this. Goodness knows they expressed it better than I did.

But the best thing that can happen is when you read your own work, and besides all the other things you could have changed about it, you can safely think, "Hey, that wasn't that bad at all. In fact, it was damn good. Not great, but damn good."

Or, something along those lines.

My writing has changed so much this past year, and the practice has been absolutely amazing. There were definitely times when I was hit by both the writer's block and senioritis bug (a powerful combination) and there were times when I couldn't wait to pour my thoughts into my writing. The two things I've constantly struggled with are finding my own style and trying to make my writing more sophisticated.

Of course, the two are intertwined. I've always felt that my writing was way too juvenile and childish - and that I'm only directed toward a certain type of audience. But in the end, it's only my fear of imperfection that held me back. My style, I feel, is always changing, but at least the foundation has been cemented.

I can't wait for this summer, and I especially can't wait for college. I used to think that I could plan out my entire life in high school, but it's just not true. While I need to have some sort of vague map in my head, I don't need to plan everything out just yet.

A few hours ago, I finished my graduation ceremony. I felt like it was just another day as I began. However, as predicted in my last column, I started to feel those odd (and semi-comforting) twinges of pride inside me long before I headed up those steps to receive my diploma. And no, I did not trip. Nor did I forget which hand to shake with once I got up there. Honestly, the ceremony was a lot less complicated than I'd envisioned.

So this column is more nostalgic than anything else.

In his "last" column, Dave Barry gave thanks to all his editors for printing him, and thanks to all the readers for reading him. And while I might never achieve the status that Dave Barry has achieved, I just want to give thanks to everyone for taking a chance on me, some random teenager. It was truly a life-changing experience.

In the immortal words of Douglas Adams, so long, everyone. And thanks for all the fish.

Margot Leong is a recent graduate of Menlo School. She can be reached at margot.leong@gmail.com