Ecstasy

For the first time, I was able to be active while a pledge class worked through the process of becoming brothers. It was one of the rawer experiences I've had. During it, I've questioned my own motivations to behave how I do and as a result, my own emotions and the roots of them.

But more importantly, I was able to meet and get to know 17 amazing people. I intuitively want to call them kids because they're two years younger than I am, or at least two grades younger. They look younger, act younger, laugh younger. And ironically it was in youth that I found maturity. Their youth taught me how to be mature.

For a lot of my life, I have never really been an ideal role model. I've always cared little as to how my actions seemed to others. I just wanted to do my thing and explain it to others after the fact. It was much easier if I could act now and answer questions after I've done something. That way, if I did anything wrong, I could explain it away, make excuses, reason out to show how I am always right.

But I'm not always right.

My new friends haven't really done anything unexpected. They all did as they were supposed to do. What was unexpected, however, was how they affected me. I probably don't show it, probably won't show it, but man, I love these kids. I don't know if it's the same kind of love a parent has for their child, an older brother for his younger siblings, or simply the pride of a friend's accomplishments, but I definitely love them all.

Maybe I'll set good examples, do things that would make others proud of me. Maybe I'll think about things before doing them, with the understanding that the wrong actions help yield the right ones. Maybe I'll be a better person. I know I already feel like one.

Of course, as with most pledging processes, the fire of these feelings will probably fade, drift toward oblivion quietly without fanning, but that certainly doesn't make it less real. It is in this moment that I guess I appreciate how much I enjoy life, how much hope I can witness. I mean, it doesn't get more hopeful than having new friends. The potential for happiness seems unlimited.

Also, I think someone's been slipping estrogen powder in my food because I've been getting pretty sensitive.


Talking about my feelings?

Ugh.

Short Nights, Long Days

The other day, Saturday to be exact, I had the pleasure of waking up at 6AM to rendezvous in front of the bio building. It was one of the field trips for my California Flora class. We need to go on a few of these little buggers to collect and press plant specimen from all over California. We're going to Yosemite in a few weeks, and there's going to be an overnight camping trip, too.

But Saturday was not an overnight trip. It was a day trip, and a long one at that. I had nobly tried to sleep early (fell asleep around 1 I think) in order to muster up the strength for the road.

And to my surprise, I had a splendid time. It wasn't one of those laugh-fests, or a trip filled with particularly extreme memories. It was just one of those days that was consistently fun, even if in small amounts.

We had 3 stops to pick plants, and we pressed them in between sheets of newspaper, for posterity I presume. Actually, for a grade primarily, but I think the idea is to save is for others to see.

Dr. McNeal told us to bring food because there would be no stops. Naturally Josh and I "packed" right before we left. Amazingly enough, he brought three apples and I had three bananas. However, after making one pit stop because someone had to go to the bathroom, we swayed Dr. McNeal. The restroom at the gas station was out of order, and we were dying of hunger.

As we walked out of the gas station convenience store, we said to the ol' professor, "Hey, Dr. Mac! Do you know where there's a bathroom? I hear Taco Bell has a bathroom. Oh, look! It's right over there!"

And like a kindly grandfather, he acquiesced, and Taco Bell was had by all.

The most memorable part of the trip, I thought, was walking up the Red Hills, by a small stream. It was as quiet as a world can be, as sunny as was allowed, and as cool as a light breeze can create. It was one of those common cases in California of idyllic, perfect weather.

It's these small moments in our lives that make us appreciate the world more.

As I've read somewhere,

"Scenery without solace is meaningless."

California Flora

I came to the stunning realization today that things are evolving to survive, but why does everything "want" to survive? Did we just make up "purpose"?

I fear this is the line of thought that has lead many astray. More later.

Hurting the Trees

"Anyone can get anyone if they truly wanted to, if they truly tried." - Doo

Maybe the fear of being spurned holds us back more than we realize. Doo always gets me thinking.


via Stella

Fading Away

Growing up, we have a lot of preconceived notions on what it means to belong somewhere or be associated with certain groups. Sure, we've stylized it to allot "cool kids" and "nerds" and other terms that simplify relationships but the basic principles of belonging are inherent in all of us.

I don't think in elementary school and middle school I was ever "cool." I doubt many kids wanted to hang out with me during recess. The few friends I had are still good friends today, even as we've grown apart, mostly in distance. In high school, I felt those factions occur with greater frequency, and I tried often to be a part of many groups. This stemmed, I think, from the guilt I had. I could relate to those who may want to hang out with me but never get the chance to. I could relate to the ostracized and the outcasts, though those terms are a bit melodramatic. Thus, I wanted to relate to everyone and anyone. I felt (feel) that exclusion is unfair to everyone, and everyone deserves a chance to be understood.

I guess that's why I'm a people person. I like to know people because I know how it feels to be unknown.

So I began a lifestyle of being known. I guess somehow I became loud, abrasive, and pretty obnoxious. Perhaps I still am. All I know is that I had a lot of friends. Maybe they weren't all close, but in all of them, I could see that every person has the opportunity to be amazing and wonderful as a person.

I could relate to different groups. Maybe the "cool kids" or even the "nerds." I prided myself in that ability of mine to be down-to-earth. It wasn't necessarily popularity I enjoyed, but simply knowing that people enjoyed my company. That made me happy.

Therefore, the most difficult aspect of my life right now is my new-found seclusion. I find myself operating solitarily much more often than I would have imagined even a year ago. Surrounding myself with friends has put me in a comfort level that I didn't even realize existed, a bubble I didn't even know confined me. For someone who claimed to be so proud of his ability to accept everyone and everything he encountered, I was contradictorily uncomfortable in the most basic of states. For all my talk of being comfortable with anything, I found that I was most uncomfortable alone. This past few months have taught me that just because I can relate to people, doesn't mean that people need me around all the time.

Perhaps the greatest lesson I can learn about people must be learnt through experiences I have with myself.

All sexual innuendos aside, I think I'm finally starting to be comfortable with living relatively alone.



Walden