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.

Welcome to the New Year

Normally, I make some lame resolution about working out more. Needless to say, they rarely last long. So this year, I'm going to do things a little differently. If I work out more, it will be of my own volition, not in upholding some ridiculous resolution. I've decided that I'm going to focus on two things: being more mature/respecting the choices of others (even if I don't agree with them) and learning to let go of things I cannot change (for myself and others). It's not going to be easy, but I will make a conscious effort.

And with that resolution in mind, I vow to end any silent grudges. Well. At least one. I am only human, afterall.

Apologize...

The following is an anonymous love letter I found online. I won't even pretend to claim that it's mine. I may not relate to everything the author wrote, but it definitely touched me.

Thank you, I hate you, I'm sorry

Thank you
because without your support, I wouldn't be here.
I wouldn't have stayed when things got hard.
I wouldn't have believed that I could find a life.
Thank you for the way you know me,
for being my best friend for what feels like forever,
and for raising the bar so high that I don't know where to begin.
Thank you for knowing to let go before things got ugly.
On some level, you must have known that forcing me to fly
would force you to fly too, to do the things you know you need.
And maybe you even share the belief that our paths
will join us together again, and for always.

I hate you
for not wanting it badly enough
for not believing that we could do this together,
for not following through.
I hate that you didn't have the balls to take a chance,
to explore this place that's filled with your dreams.
I hate how you don't even seem to be doing
the things that made you stay.
I hate that the way you tell me how you feel almost always hurts,
and that most of the time you just don't tell me at all.
I hate that you are the only guy I can imaging loving,
and you make letting go seem so easy,
like it doesn't hurt at all,
like you don't ever cry.

I'm sorry
I left the way I did,
because of what it said to you:
that I would always expect you to follow.
I'm sorry I didn't ever see it like that.
I thought paving the way would create
an adventure that would change our lives.
I'm sorry I didn't wait until you were ready,
that I didn't think I could, so the decision didn't feel like yours.
I'm sorry that it seemed like your opinion wasn't important,
when nothing could be further from the truth.
I'm sorry that I doubted our future, and made you doubt it too.
I didn't know myself well enough to tell you
all the things that needed to change, and why.
We both thought we'd have more time, and then I left.
I'll always be sorry for that.

Where I stood...

It seems that my nights are no longer for sleeping but thinking about the future, instead. For the past two or three days, I've been up till 4 am wondering just what the hell I'm going to do with myself post-graduation. I've got three semesters left and it's time to get my shit together.

So I did, to a certain extent. I'm going to be a high school social studies teacher. I've come to terms with the self-inflicted poverty. I might just have to wait a few more years before I can get that nice black Audi coupe. What's more is that I'm not even behind. I have to take five or six classes I wasn't planning on taking (i.e. economics), but it shouldn't be too bad. I'm just so excited, though. I can sense the rightness, the fit of it. I've kept teaching on the back burner, because there was so much else to consider and so much more money to be made. I know that what's more important is my satisfaction in my work.

I want to be someone's favorite teacher, their inspiration. I want to mold young minds and encourage them to achieve more, to better themselves and their community. Most importantly, I want to do good. I feel like I haven't done enough of that in my life, thus far. So this is my small contribution. I will be the change I wish to see in the world. I will do my best to nurture, challenge, and enlighten the students that share their time with me.

Maybe that was a little too much rhetoric...or maybe it's just the passion talking.

Driving Down the One-Oh-One...

Driving home is such an intimate and enjoyable experience for me. I get to blast my power love ballads (thank you, Celine and Whitney) and sing along at the top of my lungs. And no, you'll probably never get a chance to hear my falsetto. It's reserved for VIPs only (namely, myself). Chances are if you're reading this, however, you've probably experienced my vocal talents.

So, I made it home. I got to speed the whole way and didn't see a single law enforcement officer. Luck was on my side again, seeing as I got pulled over for going 10 over this summer and somehow managed to get off with a verbal warning. I don't know what it is about speeding. Maybe it allows me to be the reckless person I rarely am. The release you feel as you're weaving in and out of traffic and dancing to your favorite upbeat guilty pleasure(s).

I'm still trying to figure out what I'm thankful for. Not because I'm not thankful for anything. Well, some might say that. I'm still narrowing it down. And anxiously anticipating seeing the relatives on Thursday. Maybe it won't be as awkward as it usually is? Wishful thinking. I'll still be the black sheep.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNRs0RM3EEE

Deep city lights...

Moving to Minneapolis has probably been one of the best decisions of my seemingly short life. I have no regrets about it whatsoever. I love the people, the places, the culture. I've learned a lot in my short stint here. I've also a done a lot of growing up, too. Some might disagree with me on that, but this isn't about them--it's about me. I now know what it means to be a number, insignificant for all intents and purposes. I know what it means to be a struggling college student, strapped for cash and trying to maintain an image--a very thin tightrope to walk. I know what it feels like to go from a cosmopolitan lifestyle to a quiet, isolated one and wonder how the hell you ever survived the sheer monotony.
The last year and a half of my life seem to have flown by. Maybe this is just how it's going to be from here on out. One more year and then I'm a college graduate. With a degree that won't do much for me. Maybe I'll move somewhere. Change the scenery again. You're supposed to get all the self-exploration done during college, but I don't think that I have yet. Maybe truly isolating myself will help me get it together.
Yikes. That was very Dear Diary of me. On a lighter note, Thanksgiving is upon us and I'm so excited to go home. Nothing like friends and family to cheer you up after a draining semester of classes. Stay tuned to see what I'm thankful for.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xB4LlEaK8eM&feature=related