Down an Empty Street
There was just something not right about today. I woke up feeling fine and dandy, but as the day progressed, I found my mood dropping and deteriorating until it was completely fizzled out. I was seriously so affected by something that I spent several periods trying to figure it out (to no avail.)
I'm still not sure about what it was about today that set off this 'depression' session, but it's obviously something that I know I should pay attention to. It's probably important if I can't figure it out right? Because if you think about it, maybe your body likes stumping you because it wants you to stop where you are and figure out what's going on. As I've mentioned before, I'm a person who believes that things happen for a definite reason.
Hn... anyway, while I'm trying to figure out what exactly I'm doing or feeling wrong, I think it might be a good time to tell you about Freshman year and what a big deal it was.
I didn't realize it then, but now that I look back on Freshman year, I sort of realize that people underestimate the truth of it all. Freshman year is all just a game.
When you enter freshman year, you're entering an all new place with all new people. New things to learn. New mistakes to make. Sure, some people come in with a few friends going to the same school, but it's still a learning experience, and it's definitely one of the more fearful things of adolescence.
We reach out for each other as if we were drowning and drowning fast. We're reaching for so many people that it almost seems as if we're going to snap any minute. Meeting someone for the first time means holding up a protective image of ourselves. It's a slow process and it's only after months and months of these games do we actually begin to show traces of our real personality. In the beginning of the year, we bite back insults, hold back potentially dangerous jokes, prodding and testing throughout the year. All of our energy spent not on schoolwork, but actually on flattening ourselves out, searching for just the right companions to be in our little circle of friends. Our allies. Our pillars of strength. Our life-support.
I used to laugh at people who said that you didn't know who your friends were until soph year.
And now it's my turn I guess to be laughed at, because I believe it so much. Sophmore year, you're just cruising because you already know who your friends are. I feel confident and cool about my loyalties. What I have now that I lacked the year before: stability. Freshman year I was bobbing and floating all over the place. Now, I can almost feel as if there's a real path that I'm following. Literally. I can even feel the warmth of the sun on my face and the thick smell of dust and dirt being thrown into the air by soft breezes.
But there's always a few potholes here and there, and if I'm not looking where I step, sometimes I find that I stumble and fall. Sometimes, I even see the imperfection of the path beforehand and I'm ignorant enough to purposely walk over it. So I'm not surprised when I fall.
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson
I.
I walk down the street.
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
it isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place;
but it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V.
I walk down another street.
My train of thought suddenly reminded me of one of my oddly ... favorite ... poems. But see, this is exactly what Freshman year is like this. And it's also what growing up seems like. It's all that in a nutshell. I'd like to think that I'm on one of the later parts, but I'm still in the process of getting past the third stanza. I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong with me. I suppose that it would be all good and well to believe that the things that happen to me are completely out of my control. I'd like that.
I'd love to be able to walk around, point and blame someone else for my miseries. It would be so easy to shove someone into the spotlight and shout at them for being so ignorant of what they've done. God, would I ever love to go through life thinking that nothing was my fault. Pessimistic, but easygoing and effortless.
But I can't do that, and it's at least one step towards realizing that maybe I should stop thinking I'm the victim for once and act on my own.
That's what my sophomore year has been about. It's about discovering that maybe I've been making a couple of mistakes that I shouldn't have. That I haven't been doing what I should have been a long time ago. Especially because of the fact that I'm still a kid. And kids tend to hang on to grudges and mistakes for dear life. Anything to be right in the end. To be wrong was to be lower. We didn't care if we got hurt. As long as I was right...
It took me SO long to be able to really forgive someone. Took me SO long to acknowledge that everything that happens to me really is my doing. But I'm making progress and with every mistake I make, it gets easier. I'm making the effort.
But I know it sounds as if I'm only being self-righteous. It's one thing to say that you're working at something. But it's a whole other thing to actually carry out supposed goals and promises. It's two completely different subjects altogether and it almost seems too perfect that I'd realize what's wrong and fix it right away.
But then again, that's the first step isn't it? And there's always gotta be a first step. It's the leap of faith that you always seem to look back on. It determines who you are, and what you really are made of. I'm seriously going to try to take the first step in earnest.
So here goes to the first: My open eyes.
There was just something not right about today. I woke up feeling fine and dandy, but as the day progressed, I found my mood dropping and deteriorating until it was completely fizzled out. I was seriously so affected by something that I spent several periods trying to figure it out (to no avail.)
I'm still not sure about what it was about today that set off this 'depression' session, but it's obviously something that I know I should pay attention to. It's probably important if I can't figure it out right? Because if you think about it, maybe your body likes stumping you because it wants you to stop where you are and figure out what's going on. As I've mentioned before, I'm a person who believes that things happen for a definite reason.
Hn... anyway, while I'm trying to figure out what exactly I'm doing or feeling wrong, I think it might be a good time to tell you about Freshman year and what a big deal it was.
I didn't realize it then, but now that I look back on Freshman year, I sort of realize that people underestimate the truth of it all. Freshman year is all just a game.
When you enter freshman year, you're entering an all new place with all new people. New things to learn. New mistakes to make. Sure, some people come in with a few friends going to the same school, but it's still a learning experience, and it's definitely one of the more fearful things of adolescence.
We reach out for each other as if we were drowning and drowning fast. We're reaching for so many people that it almost seems as if we're going to snap any minute. Meeting someone for the first time means holding up a protective image of ourselves. It's a slow process and it's only after months and months of these games do we actually begin to show traces of our real personality. In the beginning of the year, we bite back insults, hold back potentially dangerous jokes, prodding and testing throughout the year. All of our energy spent not on schoolwork, but actually on flattening ourselves out, searching for just the right companions to be in our little circle of friends. Our allies. Our pillars of strength. Our life-support.
I used to laugh at people who said that you didn't know who your friends were until soph year.
And now it's my turn I guess to be laughed at, because I believe it so much. Sophmore year, you're just cruising because you already know who your friends are. I feel confident and cool about my loyalties. What I have now that I lacked the year before: stability. Freshman year I was bobbing and floating all over the place. Now, I can almost feel as if there's a real path that I'm following. Literally. I can even feel the warmth of the sun on my face and the thick smell of dust and dirt being thrown into the air by soft breezes.
But there's always a few potholes here and there, and if I'm not looking where I step, sometimes I find that I stumble and fall. Sometimes, I even see the imperfection of the path beforehand and I'm ignorant enough to purposely walk over it. So I'm not surprised when I fall.
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
by Portia Nelson
I.
I walk down the street.
There's a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
it isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place;
but it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V.
I walk down another street.
My train of thought suddenly reminded me of one of my oddly ... favorite ... poems. But see, this is exactly what Freshman year is like this. And it's also what growing up seems like. It's all that in a nutshell. I'd like to think that I'm on one of the later parts, but I'm still in the process of getting past the third stanza. I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong with me. I suppose that it would be all good and well to believe that the things that happen to me are completely out of my control. I'd like that.
I'd love to be able to walk around, point and blame someone else for my miseries. It would be so easy to shove someone into the spotlight and shout at them for being so ignorant of what they've done. God, would I ever love to go through life thinking that nothing was my fault. Pessimistic, but easygoing and effortless.
But I can't do that, and it's at least one step towards realizing that maybe I should stop thinking I'm the victim for once and act on my own.
That's what my sophomore year has been about. It's about discovering that maybe I've been making a couple of mistakes that I shouldn't have. That I haven't been doing what I should have been a long time ago. Especially because of the fact that I'm still a kid. And kids tend to hang on to grudges and mistakes for dear life. Anything to be right in the end. To be wrong was to be lower. We didn't care if we got hurt. As long as I was right...
It took me SO long to be able to really forgive someone. Took me SO long to acknowledge that everything that happens to me really is my doing. But I'm making progress and with every mistake I make, it gets easier. I'm making the effort.
But I know it sounds as if I'm only being self-righteous. It's one thing to say that you're working at something. But it's a whole other thing to actually carry out supposed goals and promises. It's two completely different subjects altogether and it almost seems too perfect that I'd realize what's wrong and fix it right away.
But then again, that's the first step isn't it? And there's always gotta be a first step. It's the leap of faith that you always seem to look back on. It determines who you are, and what you really are made of. I'm seriously going to try to take the first step in earnest.
So here goes to the first: My open eyes.