Timeless

Photo by Sean Pollock on Unsplash

Every time I come home, it always reminds me that time keeps moving even if we’re not here to see it. There’s a new building up in a shopping center or a new family moved in across the street. A few less friends to visit and a bright new pergola (fancy overhang) in my front yard, or of course–courtesy of my dad–a new clock to be found somewhere in the house.

Each time I visit, there’s something new to whisper, “time has passed, don’t you see?” Even if it’s just in the way my dog sleeps a little more or the cool air I got used to here over break hit 102 this week instead.

And in seeing all, the small pieces that make up what I see of the world, I wonder what the world looks back and sees of me.

After all, the only thing that matters is our perspectives, our vantage points. You only see the changes if you’re looking. Chances are, you weren’t looking at me.

Nothing about me, nothing specifically, could tell you what’s happened in the last three months of my life. Just so you know, I did pass all my classes; surprisingly so considering the amount of things I was juggling. Truly, I don’t know how I passed a single one of them.

But I did. Just like I spent another quarter in my job and am technically a quarter of english classes away from graduation. I am.

I am so much of what you don’t see.

Photo by Jan Tinneberg on Unsplash

The new houses and buildings and people here up in town? Those are the skills, the memories, the hurt, the passion, and the knowledge that have built small homes in who I am. It’s a new complex of professional development built into what is becoming my repertoire, a new attitude around skipping classes or getting sleep because our priorities change over time just like we do.

But none of you can really see that. Nor the friendships built and lost. Trust strengthened or loosened. Threads between my expectations and my reality; they’re thinning as one grows farther away from the other.

Every time I come home, it’s a different girl walking through the front door.

And it’s a shame that maybe some people won’t get to see that.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions–as much as I’d love to catch up with all of the people I miss and want to see, some don’t have the time, the capacity, the opportunity, or even the want. Some of you just can’t.

Sure, I can try to cover it all in a blog post, in this site that has somehow catalogued the last three years of my life. But it can’t catch everything, define the change and the process and the truth about my life for you; nothing can but me.

After all, we’re all liars aren’t we?

Think about it, everything we say or do, it is because we see or know things to be a certain way. But only from our perspective. No two people will ever see the same thing happen even if they are all watching the same event occur.

Photo by Hermes Rivera on Unsplash

The proof cannot come from a testament of what happened or even how we individually change because of it. You would have to look at all of us to really understand what happened, to pieces together each individual change as a collective of the aftermath and the why of what occurred in the first place.

Unfortunately, I cannot fill in what you all see or think unless you tell me. As for you, all you get is me. Take it or leave it.

Hopefully though, you’ll keep betting on me and take it. because as always, things are changing. I can’t guarentee what these posts are going to look like this summer, but I have a feeling they’re going to be a little different.

I can’t tell you what girl is leaving home again this weekend or which one will be back later, but I can tell you that you’ll find out.

Stick around and find out, find out with me, since you know that I have no idea either. And this week has given me time to think about what I can do or where this girl can go over summer to really make the most of what I’ve been given.

I only get this one final summer as an undergrad.

And well, they say we only live once.

Maybe that’s true; but maybe in the mix of perspectives and truths we all hold about a single event we call life, maybe the moments can be infinite.

Let’s find out together.

Expectation vs. Reality

What did I put in my empty bag?

My dad used to do this thing with my siblings and I called What did we put in our empty bags; it was a metaphor. The bag represented our knowledge from the day, what we learned— we were supposed to empty it before going to school every ihor-malytskyi-218817day so we could go to class with an empty bag and fill it up with everything we learned. Cheesy, I know. But considering I still remember all of this and that Nick and still I say it to our friends sometimes, it was definitely effective.

So what did I put in my empty bag this week?

This week I have gotten a firsthand lesson on the idea of ignorance and what it’s true definition is: lack of knowledge or information. To be ignorant of something or to call someone out as such is not an insult, but simply a statement to show someone that they do not have all the facts. As a nineteen year old college student, I am ignorant of a lot of things, some of which I am not even conscious of. That doesn’t mean I’m not learning.

If someone were to ask me five years ago where I thought I would be in life, my guess would have come nowhere close to where I am right now. I probably would have said that I would be studying or sitting in class at Stanford University as some kind of pre-med major. I probably would have also said that I would be on the track team, running and jumping as a student athlete. And hey, I thought I would be 5’10 by now. There were so many aspects of this life that I didn’t understand, far too much to be ignorant of for me to have known where my life would take me. I didn’t know enough. I couldn’t have.

I couldn’t have known that my high school experience would so largely influence where I applied to college. I couldn’t have seen that I would decide on switching into a major to follow my passion instead of my obligations. matteo-catanese-401213 (1)And I wouldn’t have believed that I would be rejected by a school, only to be accepted off an appeal to now attend Cal Poly with Nick for the next three years.

They say knowledge is power— I don’t think this is something you can argue against.

According to Business Insider, at nineteen years old I have lived through the last 4 out of 5 “deadliest mass shootings in modern US history”. All occurring in the past 6 years. I’m not here to talk about the politics of it, the devastation or the unfortunate lack of change despite the increasing number of deaths and those affected.

I’m here to talk about ignorance, about learning instead of simply knowing.

I’m here to talk about Expectation vs. Reality.

You see, I have been raised on the idea of hoping for the best but being prepared for the worst. This applies to taking midterms I’m not completely ready for, long drives that might necessitate a blanket or a jacket, and even job interviews that always seem to be a toss up for me. Throughout elementary school to high school, I was privileged enough to grow up in a place where I wasn’t constantly thinking about my surroundings; who was around me, if I was in a place where I had to filter myself from risk of harm, or the possibility of racial slurs being thrown at me as I walked by. That last one only happened a few times.

But in hoping for the best, I just never expected to live in a world where people could be afraid to go to concerts, to diners, to school. I never expected that sabine-van-straaten-280388the largest fear some of us held would have to do with the capabilities of one another.

Unfortunately, that is the reality we are all at right now. We are having to adjust to the way the world is changing around us as the people in it change too. Whether you swing left or right, you’re heterosexual or not, everyone is having to make changes. Sometimes I think people forget about the morality of this life and get too caught up in what they expected to be happening or where they’re hoping they would be.

You can’t always see a hurricane coming, nor can you ever know for sure how things are going to turn out.

This week I am reminded of a concept that ties us all together— we are all human beings. If there is one thing I used to be ignorant of, stereotypical teenage mindset or not, it was the fragility of my own life.

Because in my empty bag this week, I hold all the chemistry formulas and Iliad lessons, but on top of all that I hold my life: The idea that it can be easy to lose. I used to make five year plans, ten year hopes, and imaginative ideas of what my high school reunions might be like. I used to make promises of seeing people without ever following through, or putting off good plans for tomorrow, staying in to watch Netflix instead. But the thing is, in that bag is my life. The only one I am going to get. And while I need to make plans for a successful future where I don’t move back in with my parents and have no job, I also need to be aware of the situation we are all living in.jerry-kiesewetter-189034.jpg

We only get one life to live. In the past week alone, far too many people lost their own. The reality is that we don’t know how long this will last for us, how much time we have. The most any of us can do is say “I love you” while we can, hold onto every moment we get, and make sure that when we contribute a verse to the world, we leave behind something good. Something worth it. Something people can fill their bags with today.

I know what I put in mine.