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| With each day that passes by, the load on my mind grows heavier.
With each day that passes by, I become less motivated.
With each day that passes by, I see less of a reason to be at my best.
With each day that passes by, I slowly rebuild the walls that used to hide myself.
With each day that passes by, I grow more and more unhappy.
I want to be surrounded by people who inspire, more than they are inspired.
I want to be around those who are self-driven and accomplish things out of passion, not duty.
I want to be with people who possess contagious laughter and see beauty in life's simple pleasures.
I want to be near others who are not content with being just mediocre.
I want to be close with people who care enough to not give up.
There are so many things I see in this world that I want to change.
There are so many things about myself that I want to change.
There are so many things I want to experience.
I need to turn things around.
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Clement, I recently re-read your list on what you believed your life purpose to be.
I'll be honest, at your tribute, I thought you had to be out of your mind.
I thought anybody who even dared to dream the way you did had to be out of their mind.
But the more I live, the more I realize that somebody needs to be crazy enough to dream that way.
I'm not content with the way this world works.
I want to be crazy enough to dream the way you did. No, I want to dream bigger.
I want to add your accomplishments to my to-be-accomplished list.
I wish you were still here to talk.
I hope you're all settled in up there or wherever you are.
I was already inspired, motivated, and driven for what I thought I wanted in life.
But I want you to know that because of you, I want so much more from life. For myself. And for others.
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| You know when people tell you that college is the best time of your life? That absolutely everything is new and your mind is opened to another world that you never thought even existed? That you change so much throughout the four years that people from your hometown hardly recognize you--not so much physically, but personality-wise--anymore? Personally, I don't believe any of that currently applies or will apply later on to me. I, of course, admit that I wouldn't know if I will undergo such an extraordinary transformation at the end of my so-called higher education experience. But almost regrettably, I can confidently say at the moment that I won't.
I feel like those previously mentioned people who do have the time of their lives in college are the ones who were fairly restricted or never exposed to much in their youth and high school years. I guess sheltered is the correct term. It's not that I'm saying that I don't enjoy college, because honestly I really do love it. The opportunity that absolutely everything is new and just meeting so many new people is obviously something scarce back home in Arcadia. I like how college forces you to leave your comfort zone to meet people and just adapt to a new lifestyle. Few things in life do that for you.
One thing I noticed that I really dislike about college is all the small talk. I think I've had over a hundred conversations already that started out with what city I'm from, what major I am, or where I'm dorming. Basically, small talk about the things that both Person X and I honestly do not give a shit about. This environment is seriously lacking in sincerity. There's a lot of unfamiliarity at college. It's understandable considering the amount of new faces and diversity, but it really is ridiculously annoying and frustrating. You know, it's hard to be real when you're surrounded by so much false politeness. But things will settle in, I know. Everything in life takes getting used to.
I love that I can choose when I want to go out and have fun, I can, and when I want to just relax in my dorm, I can do that too. I think it's more beneficial for me that I was allotted so much freedom back home. It makes me feel like I'm ahead of the game. It makes me feel like I can look forward to different things than most people. It makes me feel like I'm not still stuck in high school (like so many of the people I meet here are). And mainly, it makes me feel so much more appreciative of everything I had, have, and will obtain.
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| “I can't imagine a person becoming a success who doesn't give this game of life everything he's got.”
-Walter Cronkite
Stop writing yourself a pity story. My sister told me that the last time she came home to visit.
When we pour absolutely every ounce of ourselves into something vitally important to us, the returns are exponentially noteworthy. The desired outcome grants a rewarding feeling that can only be put as phenomenally indescribable. Similarly, failure inflicts the type of pain and disappointment that reduces your self-worth to a microscopic level. This is a fact of life known through experience. Like I said, noteworthy.
Success that results from your blood and sweat gives you a natural high where absolutely everything is perfect. You feel accomplished. You feel as if your skills, experience, and confidence all have risen. Hell, you even feel taller.
Failures are another story. You're crushed. You feel as if life sucks and that it has never been fair to you. You question your own motive for going on and moving forward. You wonder, why even bother trying if this anguish is all that awaits. There isn't anything smaller than you when you fail.
And then the pity stories begin. The stories of how many hours you slaved over something and didn't receive the fruits of your labor. Or how badly you wanted something and didn't get it. Your tragedy elicits sympathy from any friend willing to lend an ear. We feel better that they understand where you're coming from and how much you really did deserve what you wanted (because uh, you do, duh). We appreciate that others empathize with our pains and struggles.
Stop it. Stop writing pity stories.
I'll stop with the knowledge that no successful person has ever achieved their dreams without knowing failure. I'll stop with the understanding that not only is it a waste of time, but that it's pathetic to pity myself. I'll stop because I did everything that I could.
And I'll stop. Because shit happens. And all there is to do is try again.
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| The first of us have left. In late August, the first wave of first year college students pack up their lives and depart for their dorms and/or apartments. It is late August, now. Don't ask me to explain it, but I can feel that they're gone. It's not just the knowledge of them having left; it's a strange melancholy feeling of disconnectedness. A big part of my life is missing. The next wave will leave early-mid September. I guess, by then, that would be a good 50% of the class of 2009 gone from Arcadia. And finally, the remaining graduates/first-year's will say their goodbyes in mid-late September. It's weird to know this. I can barely remember graduating high school. For most of summer, I still believed that at this time of the year I'd be at P-days again registering for the next year. I still believed that at this time of the year, I'd be at band camp ready to have the time of my life. Except, it's over. I no longer feel associated with this place. As the days pass by, the more the desire to leave for college grows. When I visit the high school, walking on campus doesn't feel right. Arcadia High used to be my home away from home. Actually, to many students, it should feel this way. We spent almost half of our time in the past four years there. When I drive around the city, I don't even feel like I live here, even though I never left. The other day I went to go see the band learning drill on the field for hell week. And even though band was a hugely significant part of my high school experience, I felt disconnected with it. I suppose knowing that I'll never again wear the red A, or march on that field again, or get a perfect release on the last note of a field show makes me feel like I don't have any personal obligation to it anymore. I still have my section and other friends to visit though. I hope they'll do better than my years. But it does feel weird visiting as an alumni, asking them the typical alumni questions, "what's the field show like?" "is the music cool?" etc.
Many things possess that similar feel to them now. They all feel so far in my past. In a few days, I'm going to take out the boxes my sister used eight years ago to begin packing my life inside. And when I leave with those boxes on September 19th, hometown Arcadia will really never be the same for me again. | | |
| As cynical as it may sound, people do not deserve to be happy. In fact, we do not deserve anything. Nowadays, we grow up believing that we deserve everything to be handed to us. But really, we don't deserve any of it. That is, until we work for it, happiness. Yesterday, I was told that the world doesn't owe me anything. I've heard this before, but never from my own dad's mouth. I guess that's when you know that you are an adult on the threshold of the so-called "real world." When people begin telling you that life does not owe you anything. That you aren't on the top of Santa's Nice List. That you probably aren't going to be president of the United States someday. When you actually begin questioning whether or not money or happiness is going to be your main priority in life, that's when you start to feel the pressure of being an adult.
It is true, though. Up until now, I have taken for granted many things. Too many things. I have parents who never bother me with our family's financial issues or about curfew and similar things that other parents like to harp on and on about. I have a car to drive; actually, it's the most expensive car my family owns. I grew up in a good area and went to good schools. I take a lot of things for granted.
I know now that I don't deserve anything. That the things that I receive that I don't deserve, I should be grateful for them. It's harder to appreciate things when things are just handed to you. You don't appreciate the $20 a week your parents give you for lunch. At least, you don't appreciate it until you've gone through hell and back working your ass off for McDonalds for $8.00 an hour. You don't appreciate that you go to a highly competitive Arcadia High School where 4.0's and 2000+ SAT scores are the norm. At least you don't appreciate it until you've left this bubble to discover that only maybe the top ten percent of students from most other schools have stats like those. It's hard to appreciate things you don't work for.
Going to college is for me, and only me. Studying, instead of partying is for me, and only me. Learning, instead of bullshitting is for me, and only me. Working hard, instead of just getting through is for me, and only me. It isn't for parents. It isn't for friends. It isn't for rivals. It can't be.
You know when your parents tell you, "Someday, you'll finally understand," and you yell back rebelliously, "No, I won't! I'm right and you're wrong! I'll never understand!" Parents always get the last word. You never need to tell them that "someday" is today. You actually growing up lets them know that you finally do understand. And it sucks because your own realization of that is like a big delayed "I told you so" to your face.
But it's okay. I rather understand.
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