Nothing seems to change. I have always been this person who doesn't know his own personality. Basically, I just created a personality from the perception, or what I thought their perception was, of the people around me. I have strived to break that mold I had created, but by the time I got where I was almost happy with myself, high school ended. I have to start all over again...
I will always be this person who chases the absolutely unreachable. There is always a something in my life that tortures me day and night. Something I dream about, something that I know I will only be able to dream about. Someone, rather...
Yeah, maybe when I start college next fall, something might be different. But of course, not everything thing will change. Yeah, I'm tired... time to go to bed.
-Cecilio
Friday, June 29, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Pompous Circumstance (artifacts) [the aftermath of graduation]
if you actually read this, I love you.
It's funny how we collect things. Inanimate objects that clutters our rooms. Things that obviously represent something more important or hold some sort of special meaning. Do we collect these things because we fear about forgetting if we don't have a physical thing that connects us to our past? Or do we just want something to prove that we were there, that our memories do not betray us? I ask myself this every time I look at the little artifacts that litter my room.
I can name each of the meanings of all the little artifacts in my room, off the top of my head, after looking at them a little, maybe. There are the little porcelain chickens that I used to play with at my grandfather's house. The plush blue bunny that was, and still is, my favorite toy my grandmother gave to me probably when I was two or something. The scratched vinyl records my aunt gave me one time, since she had no use for them anymore. The Legos I used to play with, some of my creations still intact. The trophy I won for coming in 6th place at a chess tournament in Sacramento, my only trophy. My yearbooks, each one with a little more signatures in them, with my 6th and 7th grade ones completely devoid of notes.
The newest of these artifacts being my graduation tassel.
It just hangs there, a new ornament on my shelf.
Funny thing about it, it is not the actual tassel I was wearing. I lost the real one, one with a Blue Devil instead of a big '07. Something I thought was kinda cute, and kinda unique. Lost in the fray as I hugged and congratulated my former classmates on Toomey Field that hot Friday night.
This thing that hangs from my shelf is actually the one I had stuffed in my pocket during the ceremony. The extra, the replacement. If I were any sort of Catholic, I would say that it wasn't the blessed one. It wasn't the one that I switched from left to right (which I did, like an idiot, a little to early in the ceremony…). It wasn't the one I cherished for being unique.
Sure, there is my forthcoming diploma to validate all my hard work over the past four years. But this pathetic, inanimate tassel will always represent those things I so cherish, and despise about my high school experience. Because those few days, the last day of school, the day of graduation, and that grad night party, completely encapsulated my experience.
There was the last day of school, where I only had one class. Extremely anti-climactic, being that it was my easiest final and most boring class. I bull shitted most of the final, not really thinking about the questions. Much like the way I bull shitted most of my tests throughout the years. I can hardly remember studying for any test. If it was an easy test, I reasoned it was too easy to study for. If it was a hard test, I reasoned that I would fail anyway even if I studied. The slackers way out.
The day of graduation reminded me of how much I actually liked high school. Mainly for the relationships I formed. The people I got to know. It felt good to know who about half the people who walked up to receive their diploma. Of course, it was also saddening that I didn't get to know those people any better. I know them to the point I will remember them, but I wonder if we'll recognize each other ten or twenty years from now…
Then there was grad night. Bouncing back and forth between three groups of friends. Groups of friends that wouldn't mix too well. I went in there with a plan. This was the last time I would probably see most of these people. I had to tell some people things. I had to let them know. But, like usual, I froze, and fell back on my oldest crutch, my shyness. Ever since I was in kindergarten, I can remember the fear of speaking up. I still feel this fear at times, and grad night was one of those times. It is like this pain in the back of my mouth. I would equate it to choking up when you cry, but I can't remember the last time I cried… Sure, I can control it, but it takes the conviction that the conditions are just right, that the scenarios in my mind will play out like I had thought. I guess that this night things weren't playing out right. I guess I can be happy that I didn't make a fool out of myself for saying something that I'll regret later. But there will always be that thought of what if, what if I told that person that one thing I've been waiting to tell them since I can remember. I had told someone this before, with disastrous results, which probably explains why I was hesitant. I could still tell them, but I of course missed a golden opportunity that night, like I always do. Always do things at the last minute, always let things pass me by…
That is what I'll always think about when I look at that inanimate tassel. It is unfortunate that I have so many bad memories of high school that they completely obscure the good memories. There are good memories. Always. I try to remember them. Memories that let me sleep at night knowing that things that couldn't have gone better. They are the same artifacts.
I know that I can't change things that happened in the past, and that I must change things now for the future. But it is just so hard to let go of the past. That is why I cherish these inanimate, lifeless, and overall useless objects.
Pompous Circumstance (artifacts)
It's funny how we collect things. Inanimate objects that clutters our rooms. Things that obviously represent something more important or hold some sort of special meaning. Do we collect these things because we fear about forgetting if we don't have a physical thing that connects us to our past? Or do we just want something to prove that we were there, that our memories do not betray us? I ask myself this every time I look at the little artifacts that litter my room.
I can name each of the meanings of all the little artifacts in my room, off the top of my head, after looking at them a little, maybe. There are the little porcelain chickens that I used to play with at my grandfather's house. The plush blue bunny that was, and still is, my favorite toy my grandmother gave to me probably when I was two or something. The scratched vinyl records my aunt gave me one time, since she had no use for them anymore. The Legos I used to play with, some of my creations still intact. The trophy I won for coming in 6th place at a chess tournament in Sacramento, my only trophy. My yearbooks, each one with a little more signatures in them, with my 6th and 7th grade ones completely devoid of notes.
The newest of these artifacts being my graduation tassel.
It just hangs there, a new ornament on my shelf.
Funny thing about it, it is not the actual tassel I was wearing. I lost the real one, one with a Blue Devil instead of a big '07. Something I thought was kinda cute, and kinda unique. Lost in the fray as I hugged and congratulated my former classmates on Toomey Field that hot Friday night.
This thing that hangs from my shelf is actually the one I had stuffed in my pocket during the ceremony. The extra, the replacement. If I were any sort of Catholic, I would say that it wasn't the blessed one. It wasn't the one that I switched from left to right (which I did, like an idiot, a little to early in the ceremony…). It wasn't the one I cherished for being unique.
Sure, there is my forthcoming diploma to validate all my hard work over the past four years. But this pathetic, inanimate tassel will always represent those things I so cherish, and despise about my high school experience. Because those few days, the last day of school, the day of graduation, and that grad night party, completely encapsulated my experience.
There was the last day of school, where I only had one class. Extremely anti-climactic, being that it was my easiest final and most boring class. I bull shitted most of the final, not really thinking about the questions. Much like the way I bull shitted most of my tests throughout the years. I can hardly remember studying for any test. If it was an easy test, I reasoned it was too easy to study for. If it was a hard test, I reasoned that I would fail anyway even if I studied. The slackers way out.
The day of graduation reminded me of how much I actually liked high school. Mainly for the relationships I formed. The people I got to know. It felt good to know who about half the people who walked up to receive their diploma. Of course, it was also saddening that I didn't get to know those people any better. I know them to the point I will remember them, but I wonder if we'll recognize each other ten or twenty years from now…
Then there was grad night. Bouncing back and forth between three groups of friends. Groups of friends that wouldn't mix too well. I went in there with a plan. This was the last time I would probably see most of these people. I had to tell some people things. I had to let them know. But, like usual, I froze, and fell back on my oldest crutch, my shyness. Ever since I was in kindergarten, I can remember the fear of speaking up. I still feel this fear at times, and grad night was one of those times. It is like this pain in the back of my mouth. I would equate it to choking up when you cry, but I can't remember the last time I cried… Sure, I can control it, but it takes the conviction that the conditions are just right, that the scenarios in my mind will play out like I had thought. I guess that this night things weren't playing out right. I guess I can be happy that I didn't make a fool out of myself for saying something that I'll regret later. But there will always be that thought of what if, what if I told that person that one thing I've been waiting to tell them since I can remember. I had told someone this before, with disastrous results, which probably explains why I was hesitant. I could still tell them, but I of course missed a golden opportunity that night, like I always do. Always do things at the last minute, always let things pass me by…
That is what I'll always think about when I look at that inanimate tassel. It is unfortunate that I have so many bad memories of high school that they completely obscure the good memories. There are good memories. Always. I try to remember them. Memories that let me sleep at night knowing that things that couldn't have gone better. They are the same artifacts.
I know that I can't change things that happened in the past, and that I must change things now for the future. But it is just so hard to let go of the past. That is why I cherish these inanimate, lifeless, and overall useless objects.
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