So. I graduated. I wore a goofy black robe and a goofy square hat with goofy tassels and took pictures with my friends. I listened to Steve Ballmer yell loud, incoherent things about football, about carpe diem, and whatnot. I took swigs from a flask on the Husky Stadium field. I stood up, turned about and waved to the speckled dots that I was led to believe were my parents and siblings. I walked across that stage and shook a blur of hands. I got this weird leather case with a letter congratulating me -— markedly, no diploma was present.