I was looking at the dreadful course selection sheet the other day, the so-called "improved" yellow sheet. Tentatively, this is what it looks like:
A History
B Spanish
C Religion
D Law
E Geography
F English
G Phys. Ed.
H Spare
There are a lot of issues that are brought about by this new sheet. Most of them are small ones regarding my own future; not much that affects others. The pink sheet, which many of us found to be the better course selection sheet, would've gave a schedule that looked like his.
A History
B Spanish
C Religion
D Law
E Geography
F Spare
G Phys. Ed.
H English
Is it right to have changed the course selection for the benefit of, I think it is, 4 people? I'm sure there are a lot of people now who have conflicts and schedules worse off. Was the change mandated at the consideration of the students who have their schedules worse off? Personally, it's a minor inconvenience, but what is the case for the other students? Is it really better off to trade away, what could be, the futures of a bigger number of students for the futures of 4? I don't think so.
Moving on, I'm not quite sure as to how University will look. I know that I'm going to end up going to UBC (for fear of letting my family down) and I know I'll be going into the Arts (because Science is too concrete in its teachings for my liking). From there, I don't know what I'll do. My three options are, as they stand: History, Political Science, and Journalism.
History is something that I think is really, really interesting. Now, anything before the 1900s isn't of much interest too me. These days are changing times and things from the 19th century, I find, aren't that relevant to me or the world stage (regarding which, I may be wrong). University history offers a lot of recent history be it from wartime or the political climate. I'm all up for that kind of learning, of which interests me, but I fear that the application of a degree in history are bare bones. Sure there are always the positions of "Curator" or "Historian", but how common are those to find? Will a degree in history hinder my employment options? I hope not.
Political Science is something that, I hope, I can use to change the world. It sounds cheesy, doesn't it? Truth be told, since sixth grade I've always wanted to do something about the world. It started with the hope that conflicts in the Middle East be resolved and, when that went to hell, I thought that change couldn't be brought about so easily. I was right to an extent; power is the only thing that can bring about change on a global sale. Political Science, I dream, is the degree that will launch myself into the political atmosphere and foster a platform of change. It may be a pipe dream, but it's a dream I hope I can one day achieve.
Journalism is the ideal degree for being realistic in terms of employment. The thing is, though, is that it isn't one of my flairs. I've been told I'm good at writing but my passions don't lie with journalism and the associated media. It's a steady and beneficial future with a journalism degree, but it's not something I would love with all my heart.
---
Changing the topic now, I want to pour some of my thoughts regarding videogames (and I guess electronics). There are a lot of things I'm saving for now, and this, I would guess, is a good platform to jot down my notes. Read if you want.
Xbox 360 wise, there are not a lot of games I feel I need to buy. The games I have preocuppy me well. Rock Band is still a game I'm striving for completion in. During Spring Break, I hope to have achieved completion in the Band World Tour and all the associated Achievements. The only things to be completed, then, are the achievements for solo campaigns in hard drums as well as expert drums and guitar. The Orange Box is something that will be quite taxing in terms of completion. Consisting of five games, it's something that's going to take up a lot of my time. I think I'll go through each game on weekends and try to complete it slowly. Medal of Honor: Airborne I will, hopefully, complete the campaign by the end of Spring Break and not get too involved into the online multi-player. I have enough games to complete. Mass Effect is still on the backburner; an RPG is too taxing to complete now. I may return it.
On the Playstation 3 front, there are a lot of games I want to get. Truth be told, I've been neglecting the PS3. Off the top of my head are Uncharted: Drake's Fortune, Resistance: Fall of Man, and, when it hits, Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots. At first glance, that's a hefty load at almost $200. The only game that I know I will be getting at launch price is MGS4 because there is a lot of hype that has been generated regarding it and, I know, that it's all justified. But, it doesn't arrive until June 12th, so there's plenty of time to save for it. What's next is a Dualshock 3 controller and at $55, is something that I won't be getting anytime soon. I don't have many multi-player games anyway so it would just be a rotting investment for the time being. On the PSP front, there's God of War: Chains of Olympus to get for about $35 but before I invest time into that, I still need to beat Patapon.
As for miscellaneous electronics, there are two things I'm saving for. The first is an 8 GB USB Flash Drive. At $40 at NCIX, this is a steal. It would be used, mostly, for file transfers to-and-from the PS3. 8 GB comes with, not only convenience, but security in that certain memories will not be lost easily. The second is an Asus eee. These ultra-portable laptops are something that will help tremendously at school. The price is an issue when deciding which model to get, though. The 8GB, at 7 inches, is a steal at $500. I'd rather have the 9 inch model, although I don't know how much that would set me back. I think I'll have enough by the end of summer.
Sunday, 23 March 2008
Monday, 10 March 2008
Nostalgic Tunes
Last.fm says that these are my top 20 played songs since September 2005.
1. You're Beautiful; James Blunt (1536 Plays)
2. November Rain; Guns N' Roses (829 Plays)
3. I Don't Wanna Live Without Your Love; Chicago (775 Plays)
4. Will You Still Love Me?; Chicago (623 Plays)
5. Chasing Cars; Snow Patrol (598 Plays)
6. It's All Coming Back to Me Now; Meat Loaf and Marion Raven (591 Plays)
7. Always; Bon Jovi (560 Plays)
8. Hello; Lionel Richie (549 Plays)
9. Patience; Guns N' Roses (438 Plays)
10. Look Away; Chicago (424 Plays)
11. Everything; Lifehouse (424 Plays)
12. Goodbye My Lover; James Blunt (407 Plays)
13. Wonderful Tonight; Eric Clapton (368 Plays)
14. I Don't Want to Miss a Thing; Aerosmith (365 Plays)
15. Don't Cry (Original); Guns N' Roses (360 Plays)
16. We Can Last Forever; Chicago (357 Plays)
17. I'll Be There For You; Bon Jovi (355 Plays)
18. Ache; James Carrington (351 Plays)
19. Don't Cry (Alternate); Guns N' Roses (327 Plays)
20. Open Arms; Journey (322 Plays)
The first real rock song doesn't show up until 41; Estranged by Guns N' Roses with 212 plays.
1. You're Beautiful; James Blunt (1536 Plays)
2. November Rain; Guns N' Roses (829 Plays)
3. I Don't Wanna Live Without Your Love; Chicago (775 Plays)
4. Will You Still Love Me?; Chicago (623 Plays)
5. Chasing Cars; Snow Patrol (598 Plays)
6. It's All Coming Back to Me Now; Meat Loaf and Marion Raven (591 Plays)
7. Always; Bon Jovi (560 Plays)
8. Hello; Lionel Richie (549 Plays)
9. Patience; Guns N' Roses (438 Plays)
10. Look Away; Chicago (424 Plays)
11. Everything; Lifehouse (424 Plays)
12. Goodbye My Lover; James Blunt (407 Plays)
13. Wonderful Tonight; Eric Clapton (368 Plays)
14. I Don't Want to Miss a Thing; Aerosmith (365 Plays)
15. Don't Cry (Original); Guns N' Roses (360 Plays)
16. We Can Last Forever; Chicago (357 Plays)
17. I'll Be There For You; Bon Jovi (355 Plays)
18. Ache; James Carrington (351 Plays)
19. Don't Cry (Alternate); Guns N' Roses (327 Plays)
20. Open Arms; Journey (322 Plays)
The first real rock song doesn't show up until 41; Estranged by Guns N' Roses with 212 plays.
The Blower's Daughter
I watched Closer early Saturday morning. It was an excellent movie. It had a cast of four and the story was the highlight of the movie. To be able to love and to lose and then to love again. A conflict of interests between four people. To feel sincere and to act on impulse or to love completely and not love at all.
"And so it is, just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me most of the time. And so it is; the shorter story; no love, no glory. No hero in her sky."
Love itself is complex. What is love, really? Chemical imbalance? True emotion? Purely speculative? Can you truly love somebody you like? Lust? Hate? Does love come about truly spontaneously? Can it be felt eventually? Is it all a designation of mind depending on the person?
Is it love to be drawn to somebody without a reason? Without a one that can be designated a reason instead of a "just because" or an "I don't know"? Is it love to have strayed to long another, only to have returned to the one? Is there not a reason for a straying? Is the reason for the longing all the more stronger because of the return? Is it worth the trouble of time to wait at all, to stand by in quiet uttering the quiet, "yes" and complimenting the simple fact? Is it worth a wait, if only to be shot down, if at all the case?
What of unrequited love? Abraham Cowley writes, "A mighty pain to love it is, and 'tis a pain that pain to miss; but of all pains, the greatest pain it is to love but love in vain." There are always the situations in which this arises, to which the suitor simply relents and abandons the cause. Perhaps with time the pain will recede. Still, though, there are the times when the feeling does not go.
"And so it is, just like you said it should be. We'll both forget the breeze most of the time. And so it is; the colder water, the blower's daughter the pupil in denial."
I've heard the words of unrequited love in music. From Bell Bottom Blues to Layla. But the most prominent comes about in Don't Cry (the words themselves perhaps advice): "I thought I could live in your world as years all went by. With all the voices I've heard, something has died. And when you're in need of someone my heart won't deny you. So many seem so lonely with no one left to cry to."
Nevermind the quiet chord progressions made into arpeggios or the solo ending and starting on the same not. The words still ring true regardless of the times or the circumstances or the cast. It's chilling to hear the song again and again, maybe because of personal relevance or maybe because the song is that powerful. Whatever it is, it must be one of the two to have left such an indelible mark.
But to forget it all is something impossible. For somebody as sentimental as myself, I could not bring myself to forget. To forget is to lose something and loss is something I fear. I guess that's why I keep the little things, regardless of how important they were. They bring back the memories and when I forget them, they'll still be there to jog the mind. Even if I could forget it all, I wouldn't.
"Oh, did I say that I loathe you? Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?"
As I've always said, there's always hope. But who knows how far hope can go to prolong the inevitable? Is it even favourable? The inevitable hardly ever is. The optimist can't help but thinking there will be bluer skies while the pessimist can't help but thinking that there will be more rain.
"I can't take my mind off of you... my mind... my mind..."
And it all ties together, doesn't it?
"And so it is, just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me most of the time. And so it is; the shorter story; no love, no glory. No hero in her sky."
Love itself is complex. What is love, really? Chemical imbalance? True emotion? Purely speculative? Can you truly love somebody you like? Lust? Hate? Does love come about truly spontaneously? Can it be felt eventually? Is it all a designation of mind depending on the person?
Is it love to be drawn to somebody without a reason? Without a one that can be designated a reason instead of a "just because" or an "I don't know"? Is it love to have strayed to long another, only to have returned to the one? Is there not a reason for a straying? Is the reason for the longing all the more stronger because of the return? Is it worth the trouble of time to wait at all, to stand by in quiet uttering the quiet, "yes" and complimenting the simple fact? Is it worth a wait, if only to be shot down, if at all the case?
What of unrequited love? Abraham Cowley writes, "A mighty pain to love it is, and 'tis a pain that pain to miss; but of all pains, the greatest pain it is to love but love in vain." There are always the situations in which this arises, to which the suitor simply relents and abandons the cause. Perhaps with time the pain will recede. Still, though, there are the times when the feeling does not go.
"And so it is, just like you said it should be. We'll both forget the breeze most of the time. And so it is; the colder water, the blower's daughter the pupil in denial."
I've heard the words of unrequited love in music. From Bell Bottom Blues to Layla. But the most prominent comes about in Don't Cry (the words themselves perhaps advice): "I thought I could live in your world as years all went by. With all the voices I've heard, something has died. And when you're in need of someone my heart won't deny you. So many seem so lonely with no one left to cry to."
Nevermind the quiet chord progressions made into arpeggios or the solo ending and starting on the same not. The words still ring true regardless of the times or the circumstances or the cast. It's chilling to hear the song again and again, maybe because of personal relevance or maybe because the song is that powerful. Whatever it is, it must be one of the two to have left such an indelible mark.
But to forget it all is something impossible. For somebody as sentimental as myself, I could not bring myself to forget. To forget is to lose something and loss is something I fear. I guess that's why I keep the little things, regardless of how important they were. They bring back the memories and when I forget them, they'll still be there to jog the mind. Even if I could forget it all, I wouldn't.
"Oh, did I say that I loathe you? Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?"
As I've always said, there's always hope. But who knows how far hope can go to prolong the inevitable? Is it even favourable? The inevitable hardly ever is. The optimist can't help but thinking there will be bluer skies while the pessimist can't help but thinking that there will be more rain.
"I can't take my mind off of you... my mind... my mind..."
And it all ties together, doesn't it?
Childhood's End
It started with a bass pedal, cracked three-quarters of the way down. Perhaps symbolic, perhaps not. A reminder now of a day I'd rather not remember now.
From then it moved to how I take things for granted or how I hold money in such low regard or how I'll turn out like my uncles. It's always about the faults I have and never about how I was raised. Always about the here-and-now and never about the whens-and-hows or the whys-and-whos. It was about money. It's always about money.
And then a confrontation. They'd take it away had I not defended it. How stupid that was. Why defend plastic? Why silicon? Why metal? On their own they are nothing important. Together, they are why I am not motivated. They are why I sleep the days away, why I never finish my homework, why my priorities are so messed up.
I defended it and I goaded them the whole time. They came to take it away but I defended it as a mother would defend her child. How stupid. Why defend a cold chunk of metal with your life? Why not give away that which causes you strife? I should have been asked this before. I acted irrationally, acted without thinking of the consequences. I justified it by thinking that I was not compromising, thinking that saving this would uphold my motto of "never compromising". And I never compromised, but I lost it all.
It still goes downhill from here. The words came in flurries and they pierced and I bled. The words resounded and stabbed with much more than I had felt. The truth hurt. "Live your life the way you want it but don't come crying to us if you fail," or "When you've proven yourself to not have screwed up your life, we'll be happy," or "It's your life and your problems."
They were harsh critiques, strong words. I knew they were true and I knew my life had been problematic for some time. The procrastination, the sloth, the failure to realize that I had been helped. They were all there, but I did not move towards fixing this. Perhaps the ignorance was too blissful. Nonetheless, the cold bliss came crashing down when I heard these words.
It was abandonment. To lose the support, however minimal it may have been, you've had all these years. To have those who raised you abandon you like some rejected child. I've not experienced true loss in my lifetime and as such, it is something I fear. To be deliberately abandoned like that, to have been designated a lost cause deals all the more an equal, if not worse, blow. To be the one lost is the pain.
I question myself now. Am I a good son? Have I ever been? If I had, then this never would have happened. This could have been avoided if I had known were i stood. Am I a good brother? I never would have lost influence if I had been one. Am I a good person? God knows why I act so differently sometimes, without regard or without care, and then compassionate other times. Do I deserve to be here? I could have easily been raised in poverty. What of my friends? They would not understand the magnitude. What then of me?
I'm too fucked up to even try to reconcile.
From then it moved to how I take things for granted or how I hold money in such low regard or how I'll turn out like my uncles. It's always about the faults I have and never about how I was raised. Always about the here-and-now and never about the whens-and-hows or the whys-and-whos. It was about money. It's always about money.
And then a confrontation. They'd take it away had I not defended it. How stupid that was. Why defend plastic? Why silicon? Why metal? On their own they are nothing important. Together, they are why I am not motivated. They are why I sleep the days away, why I never finish my homework, why my priorities are so messed up.
I defended it and I goaded them the whole time. They came to take it away but I defended it as a mother would defend her child. How stupid. Why defend a cold chunk of metal with your life? Why not give away that which causes you strife? I should have been asked this before. I acted irrationally, acted without thinking of the consequences. I justified it by thinking that I was not compromising, thinking that saving this would uphold my motto of "never compromising". And I never compromised, but I lost it all.
It still goes downhill from here. The words came in flurries and they pierced and I bled. The words resounded and stabbed with much more than I had felt. The truth hurt. "Live your life the way you want it but don't come crying to us if you fail," or "When you've proven yourself to not have screwed up your life, we'll be happy," or "It's your life and your problems."
They were harsh critiques, strong words. I knew they were true and I knew my life had been problematic for some time. The procrastination, the sloth, the failure to realize that I had been helped. They were all there, but I did not move towards fixing this. Perhaps the ignorance was too blissful. Nonetheless, the cold bliss came crashing down when I heard these words.
It was abandonment. To lose the support, however minimal it may have been, you've had all these years. To have those who raised you abandon you like some rejected child. I've not experienced true loss in my lifetime and as such, it is something I fear. To be deliberately abandoned like that, to have been designated a lost cause deals all the more an equal, if not worse, blow. To be the one lost is the pain.
I question myself now. Am I a good son? Have I ever been? If I had, then this never would have happened. This could have been avoided if I had known were i stood. Am I a good brother? I never would have lost influence if I had been one. Am I a good person? God knows why I act so differently sometimes, without regard or without care, and then compassionate other times. Do I deserve to be here? I could have easily been raised in poverty. What of my friends? They would not understand the magnitude. What then of me?
I'm too fucked up to even try to reconcile.
Friday, 22 February 2008
Life, Lessons, and Love
I've been thinking over the last few days or so. There have been a lot that I've been thinking about. Life, lessons, love; whatever the average teenager thinks about. I think it's best to take note of my reflections.
Life and Loss
Regarding life, there is much to say. They all say that "life is too short," and to "make the most of it". They are absolutely correct. Three weeks ago, I learnt that a life can go as quickly as it came, that life is something that should be valued. I had found out that the person who I would consider my best friend, from the first year I came to Saint Patrick's Elementary until the year he left, had passed on. The circumstances I do not know exactly, and I will not speculate for the sake of respect for him. It is not his passing for which I mourn him, for when he had gone we were but strangers. No, it is his memory for which I mourn.
The days of old when a triumvirate of friends would spend countless hours together, remembered only by the photos. The parties and the games that came with them. The camaraderie and friendship that came out of these experiences. Those are the memories that only now I try to cling to. I cannot help that; we remember the negative experiences more often than the positive ones. There is one negative experience that signals the end of our friendship and, in retrospect, the catalyst for my guilt.
He left in seventh grade. I had the task of telling him that I had his school photos. He replied and, from what I remember, it did not sit well with me. It may have been in jest; I never pick up on that. And then I proliferated an image between my friends, one that portrayed him as not wanting to associate with us. It was stupid. It was out of bitterness. We didn't talk, we never talked. Time went by and I would jest at his expense, perhaps out of bitterness. His new style or his new name were concepts I was not inhibited of mocking. And I regret it fully.
I should have talked to him, found out his e-mail, made an attempt to reconnect. I didn't. He's gone. And it is my loss for that. But that loss does not come solely with regret or anything associated with the negative feelings of loss. The loss of a friend, literally and figuratively, comes with guilt placed upon me. I did not make an attempt to reach out to a best friend. I shall never have the chance, now. This will never get to you, bud, but I'm sorry.
Life and Perspective
That issue being taken care of, I'd like to reflect on life now and the perspective I have of life at this moment. Regarding highschool, there is not much time to do anything now. Like a teacher has said, once you realize that highschool is one of the best parts of your life, you're already three years in or, at the very most, graduating. These types of facts come by in my mind often but I never really have the time to think about them or reflect.
Highschool, I would say, is divided into three stages. The first is fitting in. This comes in Grades 8, 9, and maybe some of Grade 10. You find your cliques in which you associate with. You familiarize yourself with the people who you'll eventually hang out with in the future. You decide on your friends for the next couple of years. The second stage is getting by. I'd say this comes around by Grade 10 and 11. You just live your life as you would in any other way. You hang out with your friends, you develop rivalries and the subsequent drama, you take life one thing at a time. The third stage is realization and regret. A time where you think of what could have been and come to realize your time in highschool is coming to an end. This is by Grades 11 and 12. You're focused on the future and you start to think about what to do in the year or two you have left. Not many people are here yet, I would assume.
Being in this so-called "third stage" has me thinking about myself and other, maybe even the relation between the two subjects. I regret a lot of things and I only see it now, after thinking about the past so much. Living life day to day, taking everything as it comes has you miss certain big pictures. Go to this party now, play some videogames tomorrow. What happens in the long run? Get behind on your homework and miss out on some time you could be outside with your friends. Self-gratification is something that overrides the priorities for the future and to be quite frank, it sucks sometimes.
At the end of it all, you miss a lot. You only realize it when it's too late. The what-ifs start to pile up. When you start to move to take action to amend these, it's too late. Your friends have moved on, classmates have moved away, somebody's lived their life fast. Perspective is something that helps to see where you are at. Like a teacher's said, take a look at what you have, make your move, and then look at where you are. From there, make your next move. All comes in due time.
The Class and Camaraderie
You may find that I use this word a lot. "Camaraderie". What does it mean? Merriam-Webster's defines it as "a spirit of friendly good-fellowship." Is there not a word that describes our class more to a T? Is it not something that rings true for the collective attitude for the class, regardless of where we all stand?
We may not be a close class, but we are a class that gets by without the extreme prejudices or hatred that may fuel the conflict within other classes. We all have our enemies and the people who we dislike; I have many. Yet, in fellowship with each other, we all get along. We all show "a spirit of friendly good-fellowship," regardless of who the person is. We don't see it at first, but it's there upon further reflection.
There are jocks, the popular guys, nerds, and the people who fit in to either class. Likewise, there are the highly-popular "plastic" girls, the "elitist" group of girls, the everywomen, and the ones that socialize within their own groups. I'm not labelling anybody, just calling it as it is. Still, the beauty of it all is that, like pieces in a jigsaw, we all fit in to create the bigger picture. The jocks hang with the nerds because they both play videogames. The everymen hang with the popular guys because there is a sense of being down-to-earth shared by both. The "plastics" hang with the "elitists" because there are some bonds of friendship that cannot be broken. The everywomen hang with the others because they can relate to each other.
There are divisions within the class, yes, but those are just within cliques. By nature, the popular people have their drama. In contrast, the nerds have their own fair share of division and prejudice toward each other. Still, though, there is a camaraderie between all walks of life in our class. I'm glad that this exists; I wouldn't want to have a segregated class to the degree of certain grades. I can think of at least one example.
Love and the Nerds
Here is a highly selfish section within my reflections. They are mostly lamentations or expressions of grief or sadness. But to have a reflection, one must reflect on a diverse array of subjects. The exception of love would not be a rational reflection, especially considering the person that I am.
There is much to be said of love: what causes it, what it is, why it occurs, to whom it occurs to, the nature of love, the false pretence of love. Within this reflection, I will talk of the grief of love. It is not something that the happiest of lovers experience; they are in the smallest minority. Rather, the grief of love is shared by all walks of life. All who have been stung by the arrow of Cupid will have felt the grief shed on a lost love.
I, myself, have felt the grief of love for the better part of a highschool life. I can trace the origins well, but the origins of this love are not important for the topic. Simply: I was drawn, I pursued, I hoped, I asked, I fell, I retreated, and I was drawn once again. Perhaps it is the nature of her person; she is everything one such as myself should ask for. She needs not the overbearing hint of accentuated beauty; rather, hers lies subtle both in her smile and her words. She is smart, a thinker, somebody who I know I could never match up to. Perhaps it is something else. Surely logic should dictate that one must retreat and never remember why she turns you down. Still, though, I try.
I am not a person who will have matched wits with the sharpest of IQs or one who will have been compared to the men in movies or one who will have been graced by the blessing of plentiful abundance. Nerd though I am, not by self-declaration but rather by association, my qualities are flawed. Yes, I think well to match some but they are quickly defeated without a second assertion. Yes, I am not one who would be placed in a circus of rejects but I care not for my well-being as others would. Yes, I have my share of gifts and things for which I have worked, but I come from a family of hard work and tired eyes.
Perhaps it is the stigma of being seen with the nerd. Highschool society thrives on the standing of its beings. A queen does not benefit by marrying a peasant. Likewise, the peasant cannot live up to the glamour and splendour of the queen and her life. In this case, there is hope for whatever shall come after highschool. Perhaps it is the concrete fact that, as she has said herself, she is not ready. The optimist says that the door is open. The pessimist says that the words are just a gentle fall from the high point. I look to the optimist for hope. I wait and for every time I do, I prolong whatever the final outcome is. If only for hope.
Some walks I wish I could share. The night lights to illuminate a smile, the quiet sounds to ease away the day's stresses, the aromatic coffee to delight the senses, the newfound talk to acquaint the two. Highschool is not the time for these. Neither time nor circumstance dictate this as the norm. It is only wishful thinking that I delight in. Perhaps this will come one day. Perhaps the day shall come when the nerd and the conformist are strangers and the only acquaintance is the quiet one who would rather talk than stray.
Would it change anything if she knew any of this? I do not know. I should not know. If it did, I would gladly take the opportunity to make the most of the chance. If it did not, I would still wait. I would talk and wait until I was affirmed that I was wasting my time. Or I would talk and wait until there was something more. If only for the hope.
Friendship and Regrets
There are regrets that come out of the last few years. Friendships come and go. I should let you know that I am an introvert. I will talk for hours on MSN or have the quiet chats between singular peers, but in a social environment I am not myself. I am happy to say that I have built up rigid friendships with people. Of the ones whom I share much, I am happy.
Still, I have lost more than I have gained. I have lost the elementary friends who were instrumental in helping me become the person I am today. Now, I am but an acquaintance to some of them. For others, I have tried to rebuild what was had. I have been met with some success in this front but, for others, doors have been closed. It is not something that I am too keen on having happen but I, simply, am not in control of the reactions of others. Perhaps I have changed too much. Perhaps I am not the person they befriended all those years ago.
I regret not making the most of friendships. They come once in a lifetime, each one unique and offering their own hints on life. I regret my ignorance on days when I did not think to converse. For every silent moment, a moment of friendship was lost. I regret the things that I have seemed to act on impulse. I am not the person who I wish to be on some days, bending to the social pressure. I regret the loss. It takes a handshake to establish friendships but to mend them, it takes an apology.
***
And so I conclude my reflections. The days have been good, though in a perfect world they would be so much better. As it stands, the perfect days are impossible. One can only make the most of the imperfections, turning a soiled painting into abstract art. In the same vein of thought, I can only hope to improve the many flaws I have developed.
In thought I leave the reflections of my mind. In writing, I leave the door open for the reflection of yours.
Life and Loss
Regarding life, there is much to say. They all say that "life is too short," and to "make the most of it". They are absolutely correct. Three weeks ago, I learnt that a life can go as quickly as it came, that life is something that should be valued. I had found out that the person who I would consider my best friend, from the first year I came to Saint Patrick's Elementary until the year he left, had passed on. The circumstances I do not know exactly, and I will not speculate for the sake of respect for him. It is not his passing for which I mourn him, for when he had gone we were but strangers. No, it is his memory for which I mourn.
The days of old when a triumvirate of friends would spend countless hours together, remembered only by the photos. The parties and the games that came with them. The camaraderie and friendship that came out of these experiences. Those are the memories that only now I try to cling to. I cannot help that; we remember the negative experiences more often than the positive ones. There is one negative experience that signals the end of our friendship and, in retrospect, the catalyst for my guilt.
He left in seventh grade. I had the task of telling him that I had his school photos. He replied and, from what I remember, it did not sit well with me. It may have been in jest; I never pick up on that. And then I proliferated an image between my friends, one that portrayed him as not wanting to associate with us. It was stupid. It was out of bitterness. We didn't talk, we never talked. Time went by and I would jest at his expense, perhaps out of bitterness. His new style or his new name were concepts I was not inhibited of mocking. And I regret it fully.
I should have talked to him, found out his e-mail, made an attempt to reconnect. I didn't. He's gone. And it is my loss for that. But that loss does not come solely with regret or anything associated with the negative feelings of loss. The loss of a friend, literally and figuratively, comes with guilt placed upon me. I did not make an attempt to reach out to a best friend. I shall never have the chance, now. This will never get to you, bud, but I'm sorry.
Life and Perspective
That issue being taken care of, I'd like to reflect on life now and the perspective I have of life at this moment. Regarding highschool, there is not much time to do anything now. Like a teacher has said, once you realize that highschool is one of the best parts of your life, you're already three years in or, at the very most, graduating. These types of facts come by in my mind often but I never really have the time to think about them or reflect.
Highschool, I would say, is divided into three stages. The first is fitting in. This comes in Grades 8, 9, and maybe some of Grade 10. You find your cliques in which you associate with. You familiarize yourself with the people who you'll eventually hang out with in the future. You decide on your friends for the next couple of years. The second stage is getting by. I'd say this comes around by Grade 10 and 11. You just live your life as you would in any other way. You hang out with your friends, you develop rivalries and the subsequent drama, you take life one thing at a time. The third stage is realization and regret. A time where you think of what could have been and come to realize your time in highschool is coming to an end. This is by Grades 11 and 12. You're focused on the future and you start to think about what to do in the year or two you have left. Not many people are here yet, I would assume.
Being in this so-called "third stage" has me thinking about myself and other, maybe even the relation between the two subjects. I regret a lot of things and I only see it now, after thinking about the past so much. Living life day to day, taking everything as it comes has you miss certain big pictures. Go to this party now, play some videogames tomorrow. What happens in the long run? Get behind on your homework and miss out on some time you could be outside with your friends. Self-gratification is something that overrides the priorities for the future and to be quite frank, it sucks sometimes.
At the end of it all, you miss a lot. You only realize it when it's too late. The what-ifs start to pile up. When you start to move to take action to amend these, it's too late. Your friends have moved on, classmates have moved away, somebody's lived their life fast. Perspective is something that helps to see where you are at. Like a teacher's said, take a look at what you have, make your move, and then look at where you are. From there, make your next move. All comes in due time.
The Class and Camaraderie
You may find that I use this word a lot. "Camaraderie". What does it mean? Merriam-Webster's defines it as "a spirit of friendly good-fellowship." Is there not a word that describes our class more to a T? Is it not something that rings true for the collective attitude for the class, regardless of where we all stand?
We may not be a close class, but we are a class that gets by without the extreme prejudices or hatred that may fuel the conflict within other classes. We all have our enemies and the people who we dislike; I have many. Yet, in fellowship with each other, we all get along. We all show "a spirit of friendly good-fellowship," regardless of who the person is. We don't see it at first, but it's there upon further reflection.
There are jocks, the popular guys, nerds, and the people who fit in to either class. Likewise, there are the highly-popular "plastic" girls, the "elitist" group of girls, the everywomen, and the ones that socialize within their own groups. I'm not labelling anybody, just calling it as it is. Still, the beauty of it all is that, like pieces in a jigsaw, we all fit in to create the bigger picture. The jocks hang with the nerds because they both play videogames. The everymen hang with the popular guys because there is a sense of being down-to-earth shared by both. The "plastics" hang with the "elitists" because there are some bonds of friendship that cannot be broken. The everywomen hang with the others because they can relate to each other.
There are divisions within the class, yes, but those are just within cliques. By nature, the popular people have their drama. In contrast, the nerds have their own fair share of division and prejudice toward each other. Still, though, there is a camaraderie between all walks of life in our class. I'm glad that this exists; I wouldn't want to have a segregated class to the degree of certain grades. I can think of at least one example.
Love and the Nerds
Here is a highly selfish section within my reflections. They are mostly lamentations or expressions of grief or sadness. But to have a reflection, one must reflect on a diverse array of subjects. The exception of love would not be a rational reflection, especially considering the person that I am.
There is much to be said of love: what causes it, what it is, why it occurs, to whom it occurs to, the nature of love, the false pretence of love. Within this reflection, I will talk of the grief of love. It is not something that the happiest of lovers experience; they are in the smallest minority. Rather, the grief of love is shared by all walks of life. All who have been stung by the arrow of Cupid will have felt the grief shed on a lost love.
I, myself, have felt the grief of love for the better part of a highschool life. I can trace the origins well, but the origins of this love are not important for the topic. Simply: I was drawn, I pursued, I hoped, I asked, I fell, I retreated, and I was drawn once again. Perhaps it is the nature of her person; she is everything one such as myself should ask for. She needs not the overbearing hint of accentuated beauty; rather, hers lies subtle both in her smile and her words. She is smart, a thinker, somebody who I know I could never match up to. Perhaps it is something else. Surely logic should dictate that one must retreat and never remember why she turns you down. Still, though, I try.
I am not a person who will have matched wits with the sharpest of IQs or one who will have been compared to the men in movies or one who will have been graced by the blessing of plentiful abundance. Nerd though I am, not by self-declaration but rather by association, my qualities are flawed. Yes, I think well to match some but they are quickly defeated without a second assertion. Yes, I am not one who would be placed in a circus of rejects but I care not for my well-being as others would. Yes, I have my share of gifts and things for which I have worked, but I come from a family of hard work and tired eyes.
Perhaps it is the stigma of being seen with the nerd. Highschool society thrives on the standing of its beings. A queen does not benefit by marrying a peasant. Likewise, the peasant cannot live up to the glamour and splendour of the queen and her life. In this case, there is hope for whatever shall come after highschool. Perhaps it is the concrete fact that, as she has said herself, she is not ready. The optimist says that the door is open. The pessimist says that the words are just a gentle fall from the high point. I look to the optimist for hope. I wait and for every time I do, I prolong whatever the final outcome is. If only for hope.
Some walks I wish I could share. The night lights to illuminate a smile, the quiet sounds to ease away the day's stresses, the aromatic coffee to delight the senses, the newfound talk to acquaint the two. Highschool is not the time for these. Neither time nor circumstance dictate this as the norm. It is only wishful thinking that I delight in. Perhaps this will come one day. Perhaps the day shall come when the nerd and the conformist are strangers and the only acquaintance is the quiet one who would rather talk than stray.
Would it change anything if she knew any of this? I do not know. I should not know. If it did, I would gladly take the opportunity to make the most of the chance. If it did not, I would still wait. I would talk and wait until I was affirmed that I was wasting my time. Or I would talk and wait until there was something more. If only for the hope.
Friendship and Regrets
There are regrets that come out of the last few years. Friendships come and go. I should let you know that I am an introvert. I will talk for hours on MSN or have the quiet chats between singular peers, but in a social environment I am not myself. I am happy to say that I have built up rigid friendships with people. Of the ones whom I share much, I am happy.
Still, I have lost more than I have gained. I have lost the elementary friends who were instrumental in helping me become the person I am today. Now, I am but an acquaintance to some of them. For others, I have tried to rebuild what was had. I have been met with some success in this front but, for others, doors have been closed. It is not something that I am too keen on having happen but I, simply, am not in control of the reactions of others. Perhaps I have changed too much. Perhaps I am not the person they befriended all those years ago.
I regret not making the most of friendships. They come once in a lifetime, each one unique and offering their own hints on life. I regret my ignorance on days when I did not think to converse. For every silent moment, a moment of friendship was lost. I regret the things that I have seemed to act on impulse. I am not the person who I wish to be on some days, bending to the social pressure. I regret the loss. It takes a handshake to establish friendships but to mend them, it takes an apology.
***
And so I conclude my reflections. The days have been good, though in a perfect world they would be so much better. As it stands, the perfect days are impossible. One can only make the most of the imperfections, turning a soiled painting into abstract art. In the same vein of thought, I can only hope to improve the many flaws I have developed.
In thought I leave the reflections of my mind. In writing, I leave the door open for the reflection of yours.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
