All my little plans and schemes...

Nothing has really been the same since one night a little bit more than a year ago. It was the night that I walked onto the stage in front of people I had pretty much known all my life, and accepted my certificate that legitimized all that I had worked at those first eighteen years of my existence. I believe I can finally look back on that night and contemplate what it really meant to me, especially since, at the time, it felt like just another day, just another thing I had to do...

I wonder, have I changed at all from that person I was that night? Did I move onto manhood? This seems to be a major theme in my life, wondering whether I am still the person I was after some major event... (flashback time!)

Entering junior high, only a few weeks into the school year, the September 11th attacks took place, and I was left to ponder for the first real time in my life what drives people to such ends that they felt extreme and immediate violence was necessary. Was it their religion? Was it their circumstance? Or was it some other thing that I could never even begin to comprehend? That question still remains unanswered in my life, but I can trace parts of my disillusionment with religion (of which I have written about to no end) to that point.

Then, a few years later, at the beginning of high school, I was dealt probably the biggest blow in my life, the passing of my grandfather. My grandparents had been a major part of my childhood. My grandmother (who is still alive, but has pretty advanced Alzheimer's and doesn't even remember me anymore) pretty much raised me during my first few summers, being that my parents couldn't take off from work and had to have someone babysit me. It's an experience none of my siblings got. But, my grandfather; he was like the closest thing I ever had to an idol. He had this quiet, calming strength to him that was and will forever be reassuring to me. I always loved going over to his place, in part because he used to give me five dollars every time we visited. But, also, I would love to go there just to sit and listen to him and my father talk. They epitomized "grown up" talk to me in their discussions on everything from sports to politics. If there is only one thing I really regret in my life, it is never really talking to my grandpa all that much. He was my idol, and for that, he was always very intimidating to me. When he passed, I almost cried, but I didn't. I remember how I forced myself not to cry -- boys don't cry. But, looking back, I really wish I had, since it would probably be the last time I could.

After his passing, I know my life had to take a different turn. If my childhood innocence didn't die with 9/11, it sure did with his passing. But, it just so happened that the school year after this I became embroiled with thoughts about college and my future. There was never a long time for grieving. But, what I tried to do from then on was take the best of what my grandfather showed me and go forward with life.

Now, back to my original example. Grad night, 2007. I say that nothing has been the same since then because that night forced me to change, forced me to choose. As I sit here and write this little rant out, two major things loom over my head: the fact that I will be Editor in Chief of the Sacramento City College student newspaper The Express this coming fall semester, my sophomore year of college; and a pretty big interview for a job that pays quite a bit more than anything I have done before.

I am looking back on my life to see just what this change means to me now. Call me an extraordinarily self centered historian if you will, but I am writing this also as my summer history class is winding down, with only a week to go. Anyway, looking at what I just wrote, it seems that childhood and change seem to be another major theme in my life...

Just a few months ago, me and the newspaper advisor were talking and discussing my future with The Express, so it was pretty much whether I would apply for the EIC position. In that talk, he noted that he could sense a lot of hesitation inside of me. That hesitation was the simple fact that I know that if I applied for that top job, I was pretty much guaranteed in getting it (forgive my megalomania).

Recently, I applied for a job that is a big step up from what I do currently. I know that I would be one of the most qualified candidates, but again, I hesitated.

Am I afraid of responsibility? Because, each of these two new positions seem to represent that. I know now that I am far removed from the lowly reporter I was back in high school as I was first starting out in my journalism journey. I am no longer that kid fresh out of high school starting his first day on the job and being totally intimidated by the number of adults around me who knew way more than I did. But, I applied for the EIC position, and I applied for that new job.

If there is any point to this rant, I guess it would be that there is this constant struggle within me about growing up, about taking responsibility, about resisting change. I hope that where my life is heading at the moment, the resolution of these conflicts will be made clear. Nothing has been the same since grad night, the only time I had ever stayed up all night to that point in my life. My old self survived the night, but a new day, something different, had dawned. Change doesn't happen overnight.