Let The Past Go

As is the norm when a year comes to a close, I have lately been reflecting on the events of the past twelve months. This retrospect has been met with a reaction combining nostalgia, relief, and hope, more so this year than others in the past, and it is because of this that I feel compelled to write this collection of thoughts.

2012 was a massive year for me. No matter which area of life I focus upon, I am met with the realization that much has happened to me this year, things both positive and negative. Friendships were broken and made, romantic relationships were made and broken, school was completed and “real life” was begun…oh, and my car exploded.

For the purpose of this post, I’ll break down each month individually as I remember it. I’ll probably leave some things out and move stuff around, not intentionally of course, but I’ll do my best to recall the things that were prominent in that specific month. Then I’ll probably write some big summary of what I think it all means, reference some themes and whatnot, and then tell you all that love is what matters most (that tends to be how these things go). Okay, here it is: 2012 in Retrospect.

(This is the part where you can skip through the months if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing. The end is better anyway.)

January:

The year began with the start of my final semester of college. I went into it with an “I can do this” attitude (judging by my Tumblr posts at the time…yes, I am using them as a guide to write these summaries), and things were looking up. I spent a lot of time with my friends, going to Taco Bell and debating the “necessity” of war. SOPA was a thing (remember that?) and my adoration of writer/director/actor Mark Duplass was budding. Say Anything’s album “Anarchy, My Dear” was on the verge of release, and my friend Hannah from Colorado came to visit. I had completed my first full-length screenplay. I had already decided which classes I hated and which ones I would give a real effort. Let’s see…oh, I made a mix CD for my now-roommate that ended up being one of my favorite Winter mix CDs of all time (in addition to the one she gave me as well), I had recently become obsessed with How I Met Your Mother, I saw The Artist and thought the lead actress looked like a girl I was crushing on (who ended up becoming my girlfriend a few months later…), and most importantly, something big was about to happen to me.

February:

The second month of the year was a messy one, to say the least. But being able to look back on it, I see that it was not the end of a slew of friendships but the beginning of much bigger things. A few of the most important people in my life at the time decided (and for a pretty good reason) that they wanted nothing more to do with me, and this caused me to take a step back and re-evaluate how I was living my life, specifically in the romance department. Well, speaking of the romance department, around the same time I began getting to know a girl who would eventually become the second serious relationship I would have in my entire college career (I’m really picky). I went on a trip to Wisconsin with some very good friends and had an incredible time, especially seeing The Promise Ring play a reunion show. Oh, and I got really angry about Midnight In Paris winning Best Original Screenplay at the Oscars.

March:

This was the month I announced that I was planning to record an EP of electropop music (which ended up being released November 1^st). This was the month I saw Harley Poe and mewithoutYou within two days of each other. This was the month I got really sick over Spring Break. This was the month I was single for the last time until the Summer. This was the month KONY was a thing. This was the month I saw The Puffy Chair, and my adoration for Mark Duplass was solidified. This was the month I knew just how serious I was about dating the girl who had my attention.

April:

April began with making my relationship “official” and having a girlfriend for the first time in three years. Life was good. I was in the home stretch of a crazy college career, and most of my activities included my girlfriend and a movie. I was happier in April than I’d been in a long time. My life was full of friends, couple-stuff, music, film…and a strange lack of writing output. But that didn’t bother me at the time because I was on my way to completing college. Life was good again. That is, life was good until my car exploded with only two weeks of school left, my stress was at a crazy high, and I was sick again. The metaphor from that night was enough to inspire the entire climax of the screenplay I’m currently writing. But I was still out of a car.

May/June/July/August:

I graduated! I was a free man! No more school, a bunch of friends, a wonderful girlfriend, and a “real life” that could finally begin. Or so I thought. I’m combining these three months into one collective bit because this Summer was divided into events for me, instead of actual months. For instance, I went to a co-worker’s wedding, which ended up changing my life. I wasn’t single yet, but part of me realized when I saw the two of them dancing their first dance together that I didn’t feel that way about my girlfriend. Naturally, I ignored this. I visited my girlfriend and had an amazing time, but there was a distance there that we hadn’t felt before, part of which was due to the actual distance and part of which was due to a difference in some vital aspects of our lives that I really don’t want to bring up in this post. The 4^th of July party in Chicago was a great time, as well. I also saw Nada Surf live, which was amazing, but that’s when things started getting rocky with my girlfriend and I. Then, on July 26^th, we broke up. She said the reason was the distance, but we only had a month left of Summer. It was bound to happen anyway, though, and in the end, I’m glad it happened when it did. People were there for me, and for that, I’ll always be thankful. I couch-surfed all Summer, and I can’t thank Rhiannon enough for her couch (remember when my stuff got locked in my room?) or Dustin for his futon (Loki is lucky to still have his life). I hung out with Tara a lot, which is always a wonderful time. And I got closer to my friend Brittany, who is now my roommate. This Summer was rough…but there were moments of bright light to get me through it.

September:

I gave myself a fresh start and moved to Kalamazoo. I wrote almost every single day, went on long walks, and felt at peace. Thus began one of the best Autumns of my entire life.

October:

I turned 23 on the 15^th of this month. Other than that, I wrote, worked, and watched movies. Oh, and I got paid to be a zombie for Zombiefest, and I watched every single A Nightmare on Elm Street film in a span of four days.

November:

I wrote, worked, and watched movies. I also released my Up n Adam EP “Cartoon Heart” on the 1^st, which is something I’d wanted to do for a long time. At the end of this month, I saw Harley Poe again with Tara and a new friend, Natasha.

December:

I wrote, worked, and watched movies. I also released an Up n Adam holiday EP, saw The Chariot live, and watched Braid perform “Frame and Canvas” in its entirety live. I ended the year with a two-day shoot of a short film I wrote called Break-Up Practice, which was one of the most fun (and exhausting) experiences of my entire year. It was the best way to bring 2012 to a close.

(Okay, if you were skipping the months, start again here.)

Looking at how sparse those last few months are, one might think I just got boring or something. However, I realized partway through writing all of this that a summary of the past year really doesn’t matter. What really matters in all of this is that I lived every month, week, day to the fullest, which is an overwhelming cliché.  See, I could never actually capture what really has mattered to me over the past year in a summary. The friendship and love I’ve been shown and shared with everyone could never be contained in a blog post. On the same note, all of the pain and stress could never be contained in here either.

When it’s all said and done, I know I’ve grown as a person over the past year. I know I’ve become a slightly clearer version of the man I need to be, and I know more of the things I need to work on to grow even further. A year cannot be contained or summarized, unless one’s life is boring or stable. But I am 23 years old, and I would by no means describe my life as boring or stable. This past year has been noisy. It has been static-filled, as well as blindingly clear. It has been heartbreaking and heartwarming. If nothing else, I can say this: I lived in 2012. I hope to say the same about 2013, and every year to come until the day I die a wrinkly, weak, old man overflowing with memories or a young man in mid-metaphorical-scream at the world.

But before I close this long-winded post, I would like to say something more, concerning the title. (The name of this post comes from the song “Let the Past Go” by Joy Electric from the album Dwarf Mountain Alphabet, if you were wondering.) Over the past couple weeks, I have realized something very important about this New Year: it will be the first year of my coherent life that I will not be in some sort of educational establishment. Not only that, but I am starting the year single and living away from my family. Pardon the tiredness of this statement, but my “real life” is starting with 2013 (I suppose I could draw some metaphor from the whole “apocalypse” thing that happened a week or so ago, but I won’t). This New Year shall be a fresh start unlike any I’ve had before. I can let the past, the pain, the negativity, and the bad things from my entire time in school and that time of my life, all of that go. I can be whoever I want to be. And I will. I am going to start this year with hope and a first step toward what will eventually become a new past. It’s a busier road with more lanes, more cars, and countless exits, but I’m ready for it.

It’s time to let the past go. Here’s to 2013.

lovelovelove,

Adam

What's My Age Again?

"Nobody likes you when you're 23."
- Blink-182, 'What's My Age Again?'

Two hours ago, my 23rd birthday came to a close. I can hardly believe I am 23 years old, but here I am, sitting on my bed at 2am writing a blog post, 23 years old.

My birthday did not start the way I wanted it to; in fact, I'd venture to say that I felt awful when I woke up this morning and was immediately irked that I felt as such on my birthday. I suppose I was expecting to wake up well-rested (which was ludicrous, considering I went to bed around 4am the previous night) and hop out of bed and sing songs to some cartoon birds and eat a delicious breakfast fed to me by Emma Stone, Emily Browning, Emily Blunt, or any actress named Emily, and have a shining day full of "...because it's my birthday" moments set to a happy soundtrack. My morning had exactly zero of these traits. Thank God.

How very lucky for me that I am not in control of every event in my life. In fact, I am in control of very little indeed. But again, lucky for me, I have people in my life who are always there for me when I need to get over myself and shut up.

And that person on this particular birthday was my roommate, and one of my best friends, Brittany.

I woke up to an empty apartment, had my little hissy fit to myself about how it's my birthday and I shouldn't be tired and the internet shouldn't be slow. Brittany came home with some bags from Target, a story about how she splurged on some new clothes, and open ears to my whining. After I mentioned that I'd been born twenty minutes from that moment, Brittany had an idea that changed the course of my day.

"What if you take a shower and get out when you were born?"
"Like a rebirth?"
"Yeah, that way you could start your day over."
"...I'm gonna go strip down to my placenta. See you when I get out of the shower womb."

And it worked.

I trimmed my beard and put on clean clothes and ate some Cheerios and got over myself. I realized that I was so consumed with the arrogance of trying to plan my day to make everything perfect that I was heading down a path that would make it not even close to enjoyable. Thank God for humbling friends.

My birthday adventure was simple, but wonderful. Brittany and I spent the day shopping, splurging, talking ourselves out of buyer's guilt, and eating Chipotle. I got new movies, CDs, books, and clothes. I got a full stomach. But most importantly, I got to spend hours with someone who has become one of my closest friends over the past year. (Not to mention, when I got out of the BirthShower this morning, she had the first season of Adventure Time, a mix CD, some candy, and some glowsticks waiting for me in an adorably colored bag.)

After we got back to the apartment, I finally completed Final Fantasy VII (a game I'd spent hours playing over the years, but never had actually beaten) and watched the first two Paranormal Activity movies with Brittany and Rhiannon, another close friend of mine.

And here we are. 23, sitting on a bed at 2am, writing a blog post. After I post this, I'm going to upload a song from my almost-finished EP. I'm going to change into my pajamas. I'm going to go to bed. And I'm going to continue thinking about how I need to love more and stop being so full of myself. I guess some things never change, but thank God for never giving up on trying to teach me the universal lesson: love.

So here's to another year. May it be full of love and living for all of us. Thank you for being in my life so far, in one way or another.

Love,
Adam

"It's 17, 18, 19, routine, and here at 23, it's the same old me."
- Relient K, 'Maintain Consciousness'

No Ideas

Don't be confused by the title of this post; I am certainly not out of ideas. Honestly, quite the opposite has been happening lately, and I couldn't be happier. But more on that later.

I've been looking forward to posting this piece since I wrote it, simply because I love it. It's not my best work or anything, but there's something about it that I'm really proud of, and I can't wait to share it with you.

It's another one of these prose poems that I hacked up and arranged into a "real" poem (no, I don't want to get into the prose poetry debate right now), because for some reason this is the style that has come out when I sit down to write lately. When I hack it up like this, I can focus on the collections of words that I really like and want to accent without having to dig through text blocks.
I wrote this poem less than a month ago, if I remember correctly. It means a lot to me, and there are moments in it that I really enjoy, and I hope you do too!

--

No Ideas

I thought her skin on mine would save me, but it was

her mind on a paintbrush that woke me. Her heart was on

the page of a used book and I think

she might be the most beautiful girl in the world.

She is the most beautiful girl in the world.

And she has no idea.

Fresh air, crisp night, her art.

A brush hangs from between her teeth, resting on soft lips,

and she has no idea.

(She came over to me again and rested her head on my shoulder. She was smirking. I swear she could hear the cardiovibration in my chest; I like to think she did, at least. And before I could catch my breath, she was back on the floor conjuring colours to her will once more, and yes I used that spelling on purpose.)

She makes me want to draw creatures that do not exist and

name them after her movements and sounds—

her sighs and her shrugs, her screams and

her smiles. Her smiles

alone would be a race all its own.

These monsters aren’t really monsters at all. But we have no idea.

I would draw her if I could,

or take a photograph,

but I have no concept of lighting. I have no idea. Then again

the world has seemed dimmer since I first saw her smile.

She sits on the floor in her pajamas,

glowing. My emotion should be tangible.

The heat from my bloodflow should have ignited me.

But I am unnoticed,

my clothes dirty, and two fans

are blowing into bloodshot eyes.

And she has no idea.

--

One last thing before I post this: I won't be posting any new writing next week, but will instead be writing a regular blog post about some updates and such. There are exciting things happening in my life and I look forward to sharing them with you.

love.

Adam

Hinges

I wasn't sure I wanted to post this poem so late at night, as most people who read this will read this in the morning anyway, but I was itching to post it all day so I'm doing it.

This poem differs from the last two posts in the sense that this one is less universal in meaning and intent, and more specific to a time in my life. That's all I'll say about that.

I hope you enjoy it.

love.

PS. I'm really looking forward to next week's post.

--

Hinges

That twin-sized bed never was big enough for both of us.

The doorway was a picture frame,

and you bit your lip and this was how I would remember you.

My shirt draped over your limbs,

a sheet on a sapling,

filling me with longing but knowing

it was too big. That was the point. I needed to brush my teeth;

bristles on enamel, spit, rinse.

-

I returned and you were face down, sheets pulled back just enough to whet my eyes. The two of us in bed was like a pair of sticks whose cores never touched, but were twisted enough within one another’s branches to merit the title of tangled.

Every four breaths, our bodies would, together, rise and fall.

My shirt was too big and my bed was too small.

Fissures of Men

Hello again, everyone!

I realize I'm a couple days behind this whole "post a new piece once a week" thing, but I just moved to Kalamazoo and didn't have time to attend to this. However, I got the wifi in my apartment to work, so now I can continue.

This next piece is a poem I wrote this past Summer. It was originally formatted in simple paragraphs, and not in the way it is now, but I got home from work today and realized this is a poem, and not a prose poem like I thought (the specifics of which are not important).

So without further ado, here is Fissures of Men. As always, comments and helpful criticisms are appreciated!

love.

--

Fissures of Men

You told me you don’t believe in anything

beyond what we can see.

It was the middle of the night;

dawn was hours away. We were wrapped in blankets,

twisting around us like vines,

and you were naked, but I wasn’t—

or was it the other way around?

When those words left your lips, our bed cracked in half

and an oceanic chasm threatened to pull us to its depths

by our ankles. I reached across and I smiled

feeling you reaching too

and our fingertips touched.

-

I can see the way you look down at me, your eyes trying to suck mine dry. I can see your lips and tongue, tracing and licking my bones clean. I can see the way your hips move on mine, waves crashing. I can see the way your dark hair cracks across the pillow, the impact of your brilliance on bland fabric. I can see your body, bare and pink, and precious.

I tell you that what we can see proves something beyond what we can see.

You roll over and go back to sleep.

Our faults are our faults.

The Chase

Hello, everyone! Back so soon?

Like I mentioned in my last post, I wrote a few short pieces this Summer, and I would like to post them here. However, I am only going to post one per week in September (and if I continue writing short things in addition to the big projects, this will continue past September).

I would like to start with a flash fiction story called "The Chase" that I wrote one day in June, if I remember correctly. I just remember an image of a young woman walking out of a shop with a sunflower appearing in my head, and when I started writing it, this story came out with it.

As always, feedback is appreciated. Enjoy!

lovelovelove

Adam

--

The Chase

He saw her for the first time as she was coming out of a flower shop holding a single sunflower. Her sundress, a navy blue, floated ethereal under the light lift of the breeze, and her hair, the same shade as the center of the flower, followed the lead of the cloth. He could not see her face; there was a smudge on the window.

The desire to follow her, to introduce himself and perhaps spark some sort of something, was gravitational. They were on the outskirts of the city, straddling the blurred line between the industrial fields of buildings and the natural metropolis of cornstalks, but she was looking toward the skyscrapers. He dropped the last two bites of his sandwich and left a tip, feeling the force of the summer heat before hearing the diner door slam shut behind him. By this time, she was already heading toward downtown, a ray of light darting for dark.

He walked quickly, wondering how she could have gotten so far ahead of him in so little time. As he weaved between businessmen, the air became heavier; it was as though the heart of the city toward which he was headed was a heat source in itself. Each step summoned more sweat. However, the woman flowed through the crowd with ease, dripping down the sidewalk that scorched him so.

When she reached the apartment steps, he felt shade-like relief, knowing the chase had finally ceased. He placed his foot on the first step. Her back was to him.

“Hey, I—“

He touched her shoulder, the navy cloth hot on his fingers. She turned; his heart blazed bright in scalding anticipation.

But her eyes were cool pools of blue. Her skin washed smoothly over her face. Her smile was a splash of seaspray. She was raindrop frail and yet storm strong.

His entire being was extinguished.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

She smiled, nodded, and continued up the complex steps, giving him a small wave and saying nothing.

He hailed a taxi and climbed into the filthy yellow machine. The sludge-spotted sunray sped toward the fields, out of the city. A smudge on the window kept the sun out of his eyes as it set over the corn stalks.

And As The Summer's Ending, The Cold Air Will Rush Your Hard Heart Away...

I think I'm noticing a pattern here; I tend to only write blog posts on this site when a big change is happening in my life. This post is no exception.

Unless you've been living in an isolated room with no doors or windows or connection to the outside world for the past few months, you know that Summer is coming to a close. This fills many people with sadness at the conclusion of constant sunshine, and just as many people with joy of the impending Autumn. As for me, this Summer's end couldn't be more welcome. That is not because I didn't enjoy my Summer overall, but because I am more than ready to have a fresh start that I have been craving since the middle of my college career (the one that I think I referenced in my most recent post). I was under the impression that this fresh start would begin the moment I graduated, but this Summer story had other plans. Instead of the warm weather and sunshine and windows-down-drives being a fanfare of congratulations from the world at my release from the panic attack that is college, it was actually a broken epilogue, setting me up for the new story that would begin after these few short (yet long) months.

The way I've been describing this Summer to people who care to listen is that my default mood was apathetic/sad all of the time with spikes of absolute happiness, thankfulness, and excitement. My Summer was not bad, but only because of the multiple events that happened to disrupt the apathetic sadness that had taken over my mind. I'll list a few of these Summer-saving events.

-My friend/coworker's wedding: What I thought would be just a fun little trip with some coworkers turned out to be a highlight of my Summer. I saw two people, very much in love, commit their lives to each other. It was beautiful. And their first dance was the best first dance I have ever seen, not because of the song choice, but because it was just them and nobody else in the entire world to them while it happened.

-When I visited Paige: I'm not sure how to put this, other than I had an incredible time when I visited her. Now that the relationship is over, it hurts still to reminisce about this visit (and pretty much any aspect of the relationship) so I'll just leave it here.

-4th of July Party in June: I spent a weekend in Chicago with some of my favorite people, and I couldn't ask for anything more. It was so much fun. Alcohol-related stories abound.

-Nada Surf Concert: discovering Waters and having a great time with amazing people was a recipe for a great night. Best part - when everyone in the room sang along to "Blizzard of '77" together.

-Chicago Visit: I could seriously write a short story about this incredible trip to Chicago. This might be my favorite thing I did this Summer. Housewarming parties are awesome, and so is rum, film discussion, and kitchen floor singing. So are wavy walks on the beach, awkward bean pictures, and indie films. I adore this city, I adore these people, and I adore this whole weekend.

-Hangouts/parties/etc. at Rhiannon's apartment: Thank you, Rhiannon, for being such an amazing friend to me this Summer (and always, but specifically this Summer). Those late night talks were so needed. And thank you to every friend that came to any of these.

-Every single hangout with Tara: these nights mean more to me than I could ever say. I will never forget them, and I can't wait for the next one.

-Mending a broken friendship or two: letting go of bitterness and pain has been a theme this Summer. Thank God for forgiveness between friends. (This specifically applies to my friendship with Allyson more than anything else.)

-Assorted hangouts with Brittany (my soon-to-be-roommate): the spontaneous trips to Taco Bell, Walmart, East Campus, Fourth Coast, etc. with deep talks kept me sane a lot of the time. Thank you for being one of my new best friends.

[There is a good chance that I'm missing a lot of these, as I am very tired and hungry, and stupidly only ate a hotdog and some popcorn today. So odds are, if you point one out, I'll hit myself on the head and apologize profusely.]

[I also realize, looking at all of those things lined up like that, that this Summer was abundant in good times and great people. I am a blessed human being.]

I also looked back over some of the tweets I wrote this Summer and realized that it wasn't as big of a failure artistically as I thought it was. I wrote a few short works*, a bunch of lyrics, actually recorded some music, started a screenplay, started a novel, and planned out a ton of projects. All I need to do is pursue them. This makes me feel better.

Now that I've written all of that, I want to write a little bit more about what this fresh start means to me. Firstly, once I move away from the inspiration-suck that is Sturgis (sorry, but it's been a fact that I can hardly write a thing when I'm here) I will be able to focus on my writing more. I actually just started a new short story, and I couldn't be more thrilled (especially after such a "dry spell" of fiction writing). More on this as it develops. Secondly, I am going to adapt to being single again. Yes, the break-up did affect me very much and no, I still don't really want to write about it in a blog post, but wallowing can only last so long. It's time to get to know myself again. Thirdly, I'm just going to continue doing my best to live my life to the fullest (forgive the cliche). All I want to do with my life is spread love in the lives of all who come into contact with me, and that is what I will continue to strive to do.

And with that, I'll bring this messily written (but eye-opening to the amazing things that happened to me) blog post to a close.

Love,
Adam

*I'm actually planning on posting some of these works in the future on this blog. I may do one every week for the duration of September, if I remember. There are a few poems and a short story or two. None of them are particularly good, but they got me through this Summer when it comes to writing. Okay, that's all. Goodnight.

"Always love; hate will get you every time." - Nada Surf

They said go to school and be a college kid, but in the end, I questioned why I did.

Hey all,

I wrote most of this blog last week, and then re-read/edited it today before posting it. So when I say “tonight” I actually mean a week ago.

I also realize that it has been almost a full year since I have posted on this blog. As with every post, I say this: I’ll try to post more often.

Anyway, it’s blog time.

-

Tonight, I completed my final college assignment—a 15-page paper on a theory I had concerning an 18^th century British Gothic novel that almost nobody has read. The appropriateness of this paper as my final assignment of my college career is nothing short of perfect storytelling. Because if you know me at all, you know how I view life as the most intricate and beautiful story ever crafted. (Don’t think this means I don’t believe in free will. Quite the contrary, but that is another blog post for another time.)

I am writing this on Tuesday (technically Wednesday) night at around midnight, but I won’t be posting it until Saturday morning (actually later than that…). My reason for this is simply my neurotic closure-complex; I would feel weird posting such a closure-heavy piece before the date of the actual closure. But regardless of when I post it, I will be graduating from Western Michigan University on Saturday, April 28^th, 2012.

I will be graduating from Western Michigan University on Saturday, April 28^th, 2012.

That sentence holds so many different things for me. And I suppose that is the point of this post, to get those things out of my head and into the internet for anyone who is bored enough to let their eyes roll over my thoughts.

Let’s start at the beginning:

Freshman year began on a sunny day in…I’m kidding. You don’t want to read all of this. I’ve typed my perspective of the story that is my college career countless times. I talk about myself way too much, so it just feels redundant to go into extreme detail about the past four years.

I will give you bullet points in case you read that and got a pang of disappointment. Okay, I know none of you actually felt that. I’m pretty much just doing this out of my own narcissism again. Well, that and wanting to know this: what was the point?

Freshman year:

I learned to make new friends. I learned to adapt to a very new independence. I learned how to look at the world in an objective way. I learned to question my beliefs as well as the beliefs of others. I learned how to take the train to Chicago once a month. I learned how to watch entire television shows in a matter of weeks while tearing through boxes of brown sugar and cinnamon PopTarts. I learned that my writing has years and years of improvement ahead of it. I learned about music, film, dance, literature, and art. I learned that I know nothing.

Sophomore year:

I learned to make even more friends. I learned how to hurt someone who loves you, despite pure intentions. I learned how to rebound self-destructively after hurting said person. I learned that there are many different types of people in the world. I learned that some indie girls are just hipster girls, and I learned that I don’t like hipster girls. I learned that some hipster girls are actually more than just hipster girls. I learned how to forgive myself, but I didn’t learn how many times I would actually need to do this in the future. I learned that I needed to learn to love myself before getting involved with anybody else. I learned that my writing still needed improvement. I learned that I could conceive the idea for a novel, and I learned that conceiving the idea for a novel is terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as trying to start writing it. I learned that I still know nothing.

Junior year:

I learned that owning a car and having a job does not make college easier. I learned that I am apathetic toward my 21^st birthday, and all other 21^st birthdays ever, because I learned that alcohol really isn’t that big of a deal. I learned that seeing the people you care about is vital to personal health. I learned that having time to oneself to unwind is vital to personal health. I learned where my breaking point is, and I learned how to endure more stress, more pain, and more confusion than I ever have in my entire life to this point. I learned that one cannot be a full-time worker and a full-time student simultaneously, and still want to wake up the next morning. I learned that someone does not have to be with you in person to be a best friend. I learned that I could survive. I learned that it gets better. I learned that I still know nothing.

Senior year:

I learned that the second to last semester of college could still be pretty difficult. I learned not to take two literature classes at the same time. I learned that comic books and graphic novels are a beautiful art form. I learned that I love British novels (especially late-18^th-century Gothic British novels). I learned that life still has purpose, even when your Senioritis prevents you from caring. I learned how to hurt some of the people closest to me, and I learned that when some people leave your life, it can be for the best. I learned that destruction must happen sometimes in order for a more positive construction to emerge. I learned how to let myself care about another person enough to be in an exclusive relationship for the first time in years. I learned that I like myself more than I dislike myself. I learned that I can write a full-length film script, and I learned that I could change my life plans whenever I please.

I learned that I still know nothing.

And that brings us to what happened a couple weeks ago.

My new girlfriend (of almost one month!) and I were driving to South Haven at night. It was the end of the school year, and an escape to the beach at night sounded perfect. About a half hour into the trip, my car started shaking at a stoplight. The noise stopped when we sped up, but a rattling began and my car stopped accelerating. We pulled over at the nearest well-lit area, and got out of the car because smoke was coming out of the hood. As I called for a ride, my car began dripping flames and caught on fire. The fire grew higher, and my car exploded. A fire truck (or three…) came to put the fire out, as my girlfriend and I watched unharmed from the side of the road. Luckily there was no one in the car, nor was there anything of irreplaceable value in the car. I alternated between a state of surreal shock and a state of uncontrollable laughter.

My car blew up. Literally. And with only a week of school (and two more payments) left.

As if that wasn’t enough, I went to the doctor the next day to get a prescription for the sickness that had infected my throat over the previous days. So a week before graduation, I’m sick, my car exploded, and I haven’t even started my final paper.

But now, it’s as if none of this happened. I’ve finished my paper, and all of my exams. My sickness is more or less gone. And I will be getting more than enough money to start car searching immediately after graduation. I will be able to celebrate with my family and friends this weekend, and I couldn’t be happier.

I wish I could conclude this with something profound, or have made this post more cohesive of my time at college, but I suppose that will be what future writings can do.

I suppose if there is one thing I’ve learned in college, it is this: love. Love other people for being different than you. Love other people for being the same as you. Love other people for annoying you. Love other people in other rooms for keeping you up late and waking you up early with raucous sex noises. Love other people for clogging all the toilets. Love other people for puking in the hallway. Love other people for saying hateful things to you because of what you have done, what you believe, and how you live.

Love other people because that’s all that truly matters in this life.

What was the point? Love.

After four of the hardest years of my life, I can honestly look back and say it was worth it. Here’s to the future.

Love,

Adam