I'm a Hypocrite

I wish I could go home.
I wish I could wake up with my cat next to me.
I wish I could read The Cuckoo's Calling.
I wish I could read Sherlock Holmes.
I wish I could read Lord of the Rings.
I wish I could finish rereading The Fault in Our Stars.
I wish I could eat gelato in Riomaggiorre.
I wish I could move to England.
I wish I could finish writing a book.
I wish I could talk to Payton every day for the rest of my life.
I wish I could have a MacBook.
I wish I could see The Fault in Our Stars movie.
I wish I could lay in bed for the rest of my life.
I wish I could play Skyrim.
I wish I could stop feeling this way about Noah.
I wish I could forget our brief infinity.

But at the same time:
I don't want to ever forget.
I don't want this feeling to go away.
I want one more day with him--just the two of us, happy and in love forever.
I don't want to play Skyrim.
I don't want to lay in bed.
I want to climb the Schilthorn again and constantly be doing something productive with my life.
I don't want to see The Fault in Our Stars movie.
I want to live in an infinity of constantly rereading and wondering what the film would be like.
I don't want a MacBook.
I want to donate my money to the poor.
I don't want to live with Payton forever.
I want to move on with my life.
I don't want to finish writing a book.
I don't want to move to England.
I don't want gelato from Riomaggiorre.
I want to live a simple and easy life.
I don't want to finish rereading The Fault in Our Stars.
I don't want to read Lord of the Rings.
I don't want to read Sherlock Holmes.
I don't want to read The Cuckoo's Calling.
I want it all to remain a mystery forever.
I don't want to wake up with my cat.
I want to never have to say goodbye to him again.
I don't want to go home.
I want to spend the rest of my days anywhere but home.

And that's me. That's who I am right now.

My Great Perhaps

            Vandana Shiva spoke about nuclear physicists in The Lottery of Birth and how they felt so accomplished when putting their life’s work into something as destructive as nuclear warfare. In an interview, she mentioned her time getting a master’s degree in physics and that she noticed “how unthinking nuclear scientists were about the question of radiation hazards” (“Vandana Shiva”.1). They had been training so hard to achieve massively destructive pieces of war that they completely forgot their affect on others. My mind has been reeling about what my life would amount to and my effect on others. Surely not something as horrific as the death of thousands, if not millions, of other people. But what if my life ends unnoticed in the long run by society? What if I make no positive impact on the world and my body lies restless in its grave? In thinking up what to write about for my three essays—a memoir, a lyrical essay, and a cultural criticism—I thought back to my favorite author: John Green. In his Printz award-winning novel, Looking for Alaska, the main character remembered a famous poet from the French Renaissance named François Rebelais. There’s a lot of debate as to what his last words could’ve been, but most people, including the author of Famous Last Words Laura Ward, believe that with his last dying breath, he uttered, “I go to seek a Great Perhaps” (Rebelais). Looking for Alaska follows a teenage boy that goes to a boarding school not knowing what he wants to do with his life. He’s neither great nor terrible at any subject, he didn’t have any close friends before he went, and he didn’t have anything that he was truly passionate about. Rebelais’s last words guided the character to the boarding school and to figure out what he’s supposed to make of his life. After reading the quote myself, it guided me as well. I started thinking about what my life has been and what it could be. My three essays are a short but very important part of my journey. My memoir relates my dad’s effect on my depression and how I found myself through a terrible part of my life. To capture the raw feelings of depression and loneliness, I chose the lyrical essay. Finally, my last essay’s major theme is something that makes me extremely happy: travelling. These three essays line up to form how I found happiness, the happiness that will lead me to my “Great Perhaps” (Ward).

            My memoir depicts a part of my life when happiness was not something I had at my disposal. In The Lottery of Birth, they often talked about having a greater purpose in life which correlates with someone trying to find their happiness in life. Without having gone through my depression, I never would have realized that writing was my true passion—not acting. My depression was absolutely life-changing and although it provided some of the worst times in my life, the appreciation I now have for myself, the people and world around me, and for happiness is something I would never give up. I have never felt happiness the way I do now before my depression. The choice of a memoir really helps support how I wanted to convey my depression and my journey to “seek a Great Perhaps” (Ward). It was simple and with just enough voice to represent my feelings about it without whining like a helpless brat.

            I chose to do a lyrical essay for several reasons. The first was that it was mainly about a break-up and the loss of friends, and any other kind of essay for something like that wouldn’t capture the audience’s attention—they simply wouldn’t care. Another reason was that the vagueness and metaphorical aspect strongly aided my motif of loneliness and hopelessness. It also gave readers the right to interpret it in a way that it could mean something to them. The last reason was that I already wrote a song called “The Wanderers” before the social catastrophe and a song called “Stereotypical Love Song” after everything had happened. I wanted to mesh together both aspects in a unified representation of my relationship with that particular friend group. One of the topics brought up in The Lottery of Birth was how short our lives really are. Why waste time on a career or people that aren’t perfectly happy with? Although I still miss my previous friends and I had a lot of good times with them, they caused way too much pain in my life. I didn’t fully realize how happy I could be without them in my life until I started writing about it; in songs, in my journal, and now in this essay. Of course, if any of them needed me, I’d be there in a heartbeat, but for now, I’m much happier and much less lonely without them in my life. I can move on to bigger and better things, spread out in the world to find my “Great Perhaps” (Ward), and let go of the past.

            A huge part of my family is travelling. We’re not happy unless we’re planning something—either the next big vacation, or a bunch of weekend camping trips throughout the year. When my sister and I got the opportunity to travel through Europe, we took it. It was an eye-opening experience that filled us both with happiness, adventure, and curiosity. Culture was one of the main topics in The Lottery of Birth. In fact, that’s where the title of the movie came from: nobody chooses what life or culture or family they’re born into—it’s all chosen by chance. Most of my life has been resenting all three of those elements. The light at the end of the tunnel for me was recognizing the opportunities I was born with. My parents worked hard to create wonderful opportunities for my sister and me and without having realized that, I wouldn’t be able to plan my future the way I want it to end up. Right now I am seeking, and later my future will be my “Great Perhaps” (Ward) that I am building up my life to.

            A human life consists of minor details and events to create the overall picture of what makes someone who they are. My life has had a lot of surprises that have led me to who I am now and I will lead myself to my “Great Perhaps” (Ward). Writing my memoir, lyrical essay, and cultural criticism helped me get a bird’s-eye view of my life and truly appreciate the happiness that I’ve experienced from high school till now in college. I am proud of who I am and hope that one day my writing will have a positive effect on someone, anyone. My words are the details that I weave into the fabric of my own world and show to anyone who is willing to appreciate my work. I will not allow myself to wake up one day and suddenly realize that I spent half of my life working on something destructive to the human race whether it’s physically or mentally. My “Great Perhaps” (Ward) will be successful and something to look back on as I lay dying when I’m old and be able to truly appreciate my life for what the lottery of birth gave me and how I managed to make it work for myself and my happiness.

The Stereotypical Wanderers

            I am dipping my toes in. I am testing the water. Is it warm or cold? It is lukewarm. It is a lake. It is deep, but only in the very middle. Walking in, it is shallow. Wading in, at a steady pace, it takes a while before it gets past my ankles. Once it does, the slope under my feet increases exponentially. Somehow I end up so deep in that the water level is just under my nose. I stand here for a while. How long am I standing here? How long have I been in this lake? Not long, but it feels like years. Years and years of knowing this lake. I know where it is. I know where it has been. I know how big it is. But I do not know how deep it is at its deepest. Does it get any deeper than this? I do not know what is in it. But I am standing there. I am standing there and I am singing the song of the whispering wind in my ears. I heard it, growing louder and louder, on the long trek here, to this lake.

            I am wandering. I am wandering although I already know where I fit in.

            There was a knock on the door. At first it was soft—almost like a tap. Then it became louder and more persistent. It thundered and rattled in my brain till I opened the door. We stood there and stared for a minute. I looked at the faded blue eyes. They looked into my eyes. Not blue. Brown, hazel. Whatever. I watched as the eyes flickered around and I heard the echo of my name ricocheting around the room, bouncing off the walls and ceiling and floor and windows and door a hundred thousand million billion times.

            And it worked.

            You were there and I was there.

            But  there was space between us. No matter how close we go, there was always space still between us.

            And there was no avoiding that.

            Whatever is in the lake starts nipping at my toes. I stand and let it happen long enough to get used to it. It is not a big deal. I am fine. Everything is—not okay. But only just long enough. It starts to hurt. The water, instead of caressing my body, starts to make me prune. And I do not like that. I slowly grow more and more uncomfortable. I try to tread further, deeper, into the water, but it just pushes me out further—closer to the shore. I step out. I realize I do not belong here like I thought I did. I curl up and lean against a rock. It hurts my back. I can not sleep, I have no reason to eat. I let the lake win.

            I heard a pen hit the floor. What was it? It was just a plain, black ball-point pen. Okay. So normal and simple. I could’ve easily ignored it. I should’ve ignored it. But I picked it up. I got a sort of thrill. A frenzy thrill. For the first time in two weeks, I was happy. Happy enough to live. Happy enough to breathe. Happy enough to try skipping rocks on the lake.

            It didn’t work.

            They sank.

            Something is attacking me. Everything is attacking me. I’m drowning, but I’ve dried off from the lake. Why am I in this forest? Why am I still next to this lake? Why am I awake? Why do I care? I should change my clothes and walk away with my dignity but—OWWHH! Oh, ow. No. That thing. . . . It’s killing me. No. I need to conjure what little pride I have left and—RUN. Hide the tears, wipe away the pain just long enough to get out of this cruel forest. It was so warm and welcoming for a time. I seriously thought I belonged. I was comfortable. Far away from civilization and responsibility. But I was wrong. And now I’m running. Not so fast and only far enough. Just far enough to break down. Stop and break down in the middle of a freeway like an old car.

            My toes were in, for a short time. They’re dry now. For so long I missed those treacherous waters. Then for even longer, I was happy to be on the land, to be dry. But now I’ve found the ocean. I’m fully immersing myself to get used to the cold. It’s refreshing. The heat and humidity battle the chilly water—the water wins. I’ve never like just jumping in. The air always won. Now it’s the water’s turn to win. Because this ocean needs me and I it.

            No more faded blue eyes. Only bright hazel.

            I can still see the forest in the distance. I know that lake is sitting on the other side. Sometimes I get close to it, but I will never go back. Those tall looming trees sway in the heavy winds. One fell a while ago, another looks like it is about to break, but I may never know whether it actually falls or if it simply gets cut down and taken away. Meanwhile, those woods will continue to taunt me for the rest of my life. But I will simply smile and wave politely from the distance of the ocean. Because I am happy, and those woods are whatever they are.