Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Graduation
It's official. I'm a college graduate. I graduated Cum Laude, and just shy of an overall GPA of 3.0 (.004 points too short to be exact - UH - Why the fuck three decimal places, huh?).
There are few days in one's life, I think, when one thinks to his- or herself, Well, this may be it. This may be the best day of my life. Or, This may be the best weekend I've ever had.
That's too big. That's too hard. Rather than making large blanket statements, it's probably best to focus on the micro-level, the small things that made such a monstrous occasion so monstrous.
A few things stand out.
The first is the music. "Pomp and Circumstance." It stayed in my head for days after, the same way Cake's songs did after I saw them in concert a few days ago, except it rang and repeated so clearly. It filled my head, a cross between a dream and reality. It stayed in the background, providing a soundtrack for my inner thoughts for days, and if I concentrate, and if I listen hard enough, I can still hear it.
When we finally marched out from the field house, and entered Hofheinz Pavilion, and I could see all the smiling faces looming down on us, the graduates, as we walked, that's the first time it hit me. I wouldn't let it yet, though. I got all choked up, tears brimmed in my eyes, but I kept them in through salty cloudy vision gazing up and down the rows as I walked to my seat.
And then a speech, by some theater undergrad, it really got me. Something cheesy about the journey that brought us there, and I started to think about mine. A letter in the program from the President of UH said something about writing to us on our proudest, highest moment in our education, the day we had all been waiting for, which of course, led me to think of my own journey.
My friend Angela said something later that night, comparing it to the moment of death, recalling the expression of life passing before your eyes in seconds, and I suppose that is how it went.
The strangest of emotions, heightened, each of them, coursed through me like an electrical current made of smoke and ocean waves, hitting me on all sides, in every square inch of my body. I was not just thinking about college. I was thinking about 10 years.
I was thinking about the struggle and jobs and starving and drinking too much and worrying about bills and taking semesters off when I didn't have the money and working and little sleep and waking up again, and breaking up, and drinking, heavily, and sadness, and going to jail, and hitting the floor, and picking myself up, and studying so hard, and just the longest days and the hardest times I ever had.
You should have seen the look on my dad's face. Michael. I have never seen him so proud. His grin must have been as wide as mine. And through my own teary eyes I couldn't tell if I was merely seeing a reflection or if maybe, just maybe, he was holding a few back, too.
My fiance came down and found me with my dad, before commencement began. We waved at each other, and they took pictures. It was the longest three hours just for me to get to find them at the end and hug them.
And my grandma and grandpa were there, as my grandmother reminded me, they had promised. They had promised no matter what that when I finished, one day they would be there.
And the best part, the thing that even now thinking about just makes me want to cry tears of joy, is the part when I finally found my family afterward and greeted everyone, and hugged my mother. On her birthday. I graduated on her birthday.
That's when I lost it, I guess. That's when I couldn't control it anymore, and the tears came out.
I said, "I love you, Mom. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Yes you could," she said. "You're strong."
But what I've been thinking about more than everything else is where that strength came from; only, when my family gathered up at my parent's house that evening, and I glanced across the room at my aunt and uncle and parents and grandparents, and sisters, and the love of my life, I knew.
I did it. I knew it was coming. I knew one day it would, if I kept trying, but I didn't really know until it was done.
I can't name all the friends who told me they were proud of me, that I never gave up.
It reminded me also, of all those years I felt alone, but then, in my proudest moment, I was not alone, and I was surrounded by people who understood at least a fraction of a percent what it took for me to do what I did.
I've got this certain feeling that no matter what, this is something I'm going to take with me for a long time, this story, this accomplishment, that helped shape who I became, and who I became in spite of countless setbacks, both inside and outside of my control.
I fucking did it. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with it yet. Except, I'm inspired, and I hope this inspires someone, and the rest, the rest of what I feel, is this peculiar breed of happiness that I'm content to hold on to, and relish for years to come.
It's official. I'm a college graduate. I graduated Cum Laude, and just shy of an overall GPA of 3.0 (.004 points too short to be exact - UH - Why the fuck three decimal places, huh?).
There are few days in one's life, I think, when one thinks to his- or herself, Well, this may be it. This may be the best day of my life. Or, This may be the best weekend I've ever had.
That's too big. That's too hard. Rather than making large blanket statements, it's probably best to focus on the micro-level, the small things that made such a monstrous occasion so monstrous.
A few things stand out.
The first is the music. "Pomp and Circumstance." It stayed in my head for days after, the same way Cake's songs did after I saw them in concert a few days ago, except it rang and repeated so clearly. It filled my head, a cross between a dream and reality. It stayed in the background, providing a soundtrack for my inner thoughts for days, and if I concentrate, and if I listen hard enough, I can still hear it.
When we finally marched out from the field house, and entered Hofheinz Pavilion, and I could see all the smiling faces looming down on us, the graduates, as we walked, that's the first time it hit me. I wouldn't let it yet, though. I got all choked up, tears brimmed in my eyes, but I kept them in through salty cloudy vision gazing up and down the rows as I walked to my seat.
And then a speech, by some theater undergrad, it really got me. Something cheesy about the journey that brought us there, and I started to think about mine. A letter in the program from the President of UH said something about writing to us on our proudest, highest moment in our education, the day we had all been waiting for, which of course, led me to think of my own journey.
My friend Angela said something later that night, comparing it to the moment of death, recalling the expression of life passing before your eyes in seconds, and I suppose that is how it went.
The strangest of emotions, heightened, each of them, coursed through me like an electrical current made of smoke and ocean waves, hitting me on all sides, in every square inch of my body. I was not just thinking about college. I was thinking about 10 years.
I was thinking about the struggle and jobs and starving and drinking too much and worrying about bills and taking semesters off when I didn't have the money and working and little sleep and waking up again, and breaking up, and drinking, heavily, and sadness, and going to jail, and hitting the floor, and picking myself up, and studying so hard, and just the longest days and the hardest times I ever had.
You should have seen the look on my dad's face. Michael. I have never seen him so proud. His grin must have been as wide as mine. And through my own teary eyes I couldn't tell if I was merely seeing a reflection or if maybe, just maybe, he was holding a few back, too.
My fiance came down and found me with my dad, before commencement began. We waved at each other, and they took pictures. It was the longest three hours just for me to get to find them at the end and hug them.
And my grandma and grandpa were there, as my grandmother reminded me, they had promised. They had promised no matter what that when I finished, one day they would be there.
And the best part, the thing that even now thinking about just makes me want to cry tears of joy, is the part when I finally found my family afterward and greeted everyone, and hugged my mother. On her birthday. I graduated on her birthday.
That's when I lost it, I guess. That's when I couldn't control it anymore, and the tears came out.
I said, "I love you, Mom. I couldn't have done it without you."
"Yes you could," she said. "You're strong."
But what I've been thinking about more than everything else is where that strength came from; only, when my family gathered up at my parent's house that evening, and I glanced across the room at my aunt and uncle and parents and grandparents, and sisters, and the love of my life, I knew.
I did it. I knew it was coming. I knew one day it would, if I kept trying, but I didn't really know until it was done.
I can't name all the friends who told me they were proud of me, that I never gave up.
It reminded me also, of all those years I felt alone, but then, in my proudest moment, I was not alone, and I was surrounded by people who understood at least a fraction of a percent what it took for me to do what I did.
I've got this certain feeling that no matter what, this is something I'm going to take with me for a long time, this story, this accomplishment, that helped shape who I became, and who I became in spite of countless setbacks, both inside and outside of my control.
I fucking did it. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with it yet. Except, I'm inspired, and I hope this inspires someone, and the rest, the rest of what I feel, is this peculiar breed of happiness that I'm content to hold on to, and relish for years to come.
Labels: College, Graduation
Sunday, May 10, 2009
I want to love you madly
Yesterday we were at this liquor store right after we'd been to a couple bookstores. And the clerk behind the counter starts talking to us as we're picking up some Frangelico for our morning coffee. "You look like a couple a kids, " he says. And (to me), "You with your Harry Potter books and Supergirl purse," and to Toby, "And you with your muppets t-shirt!"
And I looked at both of us, and knew all over again. This just makes me so happy.
Yesterday we were at this liquor store right after we'd been to a couple bookstores. And the clerk behind the counter starts talking to us as we're picking up some Frangelico for our morning coffee. "You look like a couple a kids, " he says. And (to me), "You with your Harry Potter books and Supergirl purse," and to Toby, "And you with your muppets t-shirt!"
And I looked at both of us, and knew all over again. This just makes me so happy.
Labels: Love
