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 18th 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 28th, 2012.
I will be graduating from Western Michigan University on
Saturday, April 28th, 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 21st
birthday, and all other 21st 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-18th-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
