To be or not to be...

With another night of having a hard time getting to sleep, I cracked open my 8^th grade yearbook. That was St. Dominic School’s first colored yearbook, and I had a hand in making it happen. Among ten other things I was involved in that year, I was a Historian on student council with Adam Link, which means that most of the pictures of activities in that yearbook are actually from us. I flipped through every page, seeing faces that still don’t have updated features in my memory. I read through all the little things people wrote when they signed, fielding through the occasional “you’re a good baller” and “next Kobe” comments and grinning at the more common “I’ll miss you”s and “K.I.T.”s from people I haven’t talked to in months, some from people I haven’t heard from in years.

I can’t help but think about how everything has changed.

It’s coming up on five years since that 8^th grade year, and yet I remember almost everything about it. I find myself constantly reflecting back to that particular year in my life. To be entirely honest, I think it was the last time I was really happy. At the time, it really felt like life made sense. Maybe that year set the standard for my happiness. And because that standard was set so high, I haven’t really felt like anything’s come close. Everything’s different now, including the people. It seems like everyone has moved on to much bigger and better things. I look at pictures of people who I considered dorks at the time—good people who I still consider friends—but just shy and not very confident or popular people in that world way back then, and they’ve grown up. They’ve come to accomplish things in high school that I thought would come easy to me. They’re happy with the way life has turned out. I’ve stayed the same. I’m getting left behind. I know I keep bringing this up in these blog posts, but I’m not where I thought I’d be at 19 years of age. I think that if the 8^th grade BP were to meet me today and I told him what I’ve done with my life, he’d really think of me as a loser. And I’d argue with him and try to explain reasons why things are this way, but no matter what I would explain, I know for a fact that he wouldn’t understand. Because I certainly still don’t get it.

They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself. ~Andy Worhol

As I continued to read through everyone’s signatures and well wishes, I flipped to an inevitable page I knew I’d get to as soon as I opened the yearbook. It’s one passage from a certain person who meant a lot to me at the time. She took a whole page in my yearbook to right down memories, thoughts, and feelings about us. During that time in my life, those words meant a lot more to me than they do now, but there’s one sentence that still gives me some chills:

“I admire you because of your willpower—no matter what your parents/friends/enemies/even girlfriend say about you, you don’t give up. It makes you stronger, and see, I can’t do that.”

Goosebumps as I type it. I still remember the first time I read that those many years ago. I felt this sudden, huge rush of emotion. Not like, crying or anything, it was kind of an odd feeling. It was like someone understood me for the first time. It was like someone knew exactly who I was, and just summed up on paper. I still get chills from it, probably because no one’s been able to capture me in such a way since then. It really made me feel unique. At the same time, because it felt so personal and so special to me, it made me question it a bit like, “All I’ve done is never ever give up, is that so different from anyone else?” As I would come to learn, I am pretty different.

But now, I’m at a very weird stage in my life. Being disappointed so many times in such a short amount of time can do things to a person. My willpower has been tested to its core. I feel like I’m running on the very last reserves of fuel. My spirit has been broken. It feels like hope is protesting against me. My last couple posts have been about my extraordinary drive to pull through, and I think it’s really because I’m trying to summon it. I’ve been through times like this in my life too many times before, and I’ve made it through. But it’s never been this hard. I feel like the world is telling me to give up my hopes and dreams for what I want in my life. I’m just having a hard time fighting back and saying ‘no’.

I’m really happy for everyone who’s grown and succeeded. I really am. They’re good people, and they’ve deserved it. I’m just getting anxious because I can’t wait for my turn. Today is move in day at the dorms and to tell you the truth, I’m really scared of going back to school. I’m not scared of school or the people in it, but I’m afraid of doing what I did last year. I started last year excited. I put all the Loyola bullshit and college acceptance bullshit to the side, ready for a fresh start. I came in with a positive attitude, ready to make things my own. And what happened? I hate it there. Here I am again, excited, expectations once again set so high. Why do I do this to myself, in everything I do? I’m afraid of the disappointment I’ll face. Lord knows I need to get away from home…but Cal Poly’s only the lesser of two evils.

Anyways, here’s to the class of 2004. I miss what we had.

Quote of the day:

"The next day, after work, we just went to the beach. Far away from anything, everything, just Christopher and me. Far away from buses, and noise, and my constant disappointment in my ten gallon head, in myself. Because when I was young and I'd get an A on a history test.. or whatever.. I'd get this good feeling about all the things that I could be. And then I never became any of them." ~Pursuit of Happyness