Go Ask Alice

It's been a long time since we've spoken. This is going to come as a surprise, I'm sure. You probably haven't thought of me for years for all I know. I do have some specific memories of you in junior high that have been eating away at me for some time. Do you remember Pride Time in 8th grade? I used to sit at a table with you and Jack. On many occasions he would ask me if I'd go to the dance with him to his own amusement and others sitting around us. You sat by him the entire time and never acknowledged his behavior except for once. You said sorry to me after the bell rang and left. To my knowledge, you never said anything to him about it--at least in my presence.

I don't think violent video games or heavy metal or rap music are the cause behind suicides and school shootings. The real problem is people that bully others, like Jack, and people that watch in silence, like you. Before you start making excuses for his behavior or yours, just stop. I don't want an apology for your behavior or his, or anything like that. It happened in eighth grade and I am mature enough to realize that empty words would never help me. I just think it's wrong that so many people never fully understand the devastation that bullying causes. I could have been this kid who committed suicide because of bullying. You sat by and watched this happen for how long and said nothing, just like Germans watching the Jews being taken to extermination camps and looking the other way. You might say I’m exaggerating, but the comparison is there. I was the innocent victim, persecuted for being different from the norm. Pride Time was my Auschwitz.

I’m not writing this to make you feel bad. Honestly, you probably should. I hope in the future, Alice, you take the chance to stand up for the defenseless and what is just. You call yourself a Christian; I only ask that you be one in action, not only in name.

Dreamers should move to New York

A friend of mine recently told me that "The only way to screw up is to go against your gut or to just do nothing." It's probably some of the best advice I've ever received. I've always lived my life with others' expectations in mind. The problem with this is that it's my life.

I think my biggest fear has been failure. Who will I disappoint if I choose the wrong path? Myself? My parents? Others? I now realize that those years spent moving down a path are not wasted.

Maybe I'll graduate in December, maybe I won't. All I can do is try and hope for the best.

Inquiring minds want to know...

People always ask me what I think about when I'm in bed and can't sleep. Well, here you go.

My future is kind of a mess right now. Since early December 2008, I have changed career fields and post-collegiate plans countless times. Should I take time off after graduation? Should I take the GRE, LSAT, or Foreign Service Officer Exam this summer? What classes should I take this fall? I could potentially graduate this coming December, as I really only have to take one more psych class. Should I stick around for another semester? My psych major would already be complete, so what else would I do? Should I submit my application to the Peace Corps? Should I try to get a full-time job with my useless degree in psychology?

I'm having a mid-college crisis and have no idea what to do with myself. Pick one and hope for the best? No one can make this decision for me, but I can't decide for myself.

That's what she said...

I rarely save texts or tell people about them, but I thought I would share this one with you.

A: F my butt hurts so bad.
E: That's what she said.
A: I'd laugh if it didn't hurt me.

To give you a little context, A did biff it on the ice today and landed on her ass. Nice work, champ!

I want my credibility back.

I've always been the one to have a plan. I'm not really a spontaneous person, unless I'm forced to choose a restaurant. In recent months, I've gone from psych grad school to teaching high school history to history grad school. Needless to say, my parents are not enthused. I have become the child that can't decide what he wants to do with himself. The one who's off in his own world, floating along. You have a moment or two of doubt and suddenly you're the problem child who wants to be a professional student. What the hell? Don't I deserve a little time to figure things out? I haven't even exceeded the four-year plan. Yes, I have had my share of majors. First it was a double major in Psych and Poli Sci, then Poli Sci became a minor, then I added Spanish as a major which later became a minor, and now I'm about to declare a History major. For those of you who were paying attention, that leaves me with a double major in Psych and History and a double minor in Poli Sci and Spanish. In four years. I think that's pretty impressive. What the hell are the parents complaining for? I am not an infant.

Leaving

Sometimes I wish I could just live in the shower. Leaving the sanctity of my hot, relaxing water is terrible to contemplate. It's probably the favorite part of my day. No, I am not a hypochondriac, but I will address that later on. It's where I do most of my thinking, at least creatively-speaking. Well that's not entirely true. Waiting for sleep to come in my bed is where a lot happens, too. But we're not talking about beds. We're talking about my showers and how wonderful they are. As I was in the shower, this lovely idea popped into my head. I should write a collection of short stories and call them Meditations on Tragedy. Too cold? Too simple? Too passe? I don't know. Maybe I'll write them. Maybe I won't. Getting back to glorifying the Almighty Shower, I can't think of a better place to sing [insert favorite shower song here, for I have many], cry [it's happened before], or just be.

Now, I promised I would discuss the issue of hypochondria, if you were paying attention earlier. For those of you who have made it this far, you're doing well. The end is in sight. I'm not a hypochondriac. Do you ever think of how you're going to die? Some people try not to. They find it terrifying. Some people are enamoured by Death and how it will find them. I am not of either group--just somewhere in the middle. I'm not terrified by the idea of dying. What I do mind is aging. But that's not what I wanted to talk about right now. I have thought of how I will die--some people want to go in there sleep, others guns blazing. I have this sneaky suspicion that I'm going to end up in one of those hospitals you see on tv. I will use Seattle Grace for my example, to all of you Grey's Anatomy fans. I was catching up online and watched three episodes in a row. I saw that little boy die and his parents donated his organs. I know I'm not that young anymore, but my life is just as unlived. That's how I think I'm gonna go, bite the dust, eat it, etc. Is that natural, after having watched the depressing tv that I do? Or abnormal? I don't know. How will you leave?

A New Era

Just to recap what's happened since I last wrote:
1. Barack = 44
2. School started.
3. I'm in Minneapolis.
4. I think this might be the semester in which I actually enjoy my classes.

So my schedule's kicking my ass. I picked it, though, so I'm not going to complain too much. Thus far, I really like my professors. I'll check back in with you soon to give you a progress report on the State of my Classes. I'm definitely working for the weekend of respite. Oh yeah. That starts Friday, suckas.