"afraid is where we've lived for far too long"
After watching my first college admission essay be torn in two before falling into the recycling bin, I was instructed to write about something that actually pertained to me. As other prospective students wrote about deaths of family members and other heart-breaking subjects, I felt strapped to find anything which would move my evaluator, or in the very least, make me memorable. With nothing left to write about, I tried to defend my "perfect" life by discussing the idea of living with balance. I wrote about how I was not a music protegée because I spent practice time volunteering with my church, and I contributed my imperfect GPA to dance lessons. When I wrote it, lies flew out of my fingers into Word, but I took on the task of making the words true as my collegiate goal.
Last year, I was perhaps more unbalanced than in high school. Too often, I focused internally and remained stagnant, doing nothing to improve myself nor my community, and so I threw myself into a variety of extra-curricular activities this year. At the beginning of the year, I was all yang and no yin, and thus lacked any of the self-actualization I sought. Unconvincingly, I repeated to myself how my philosophy of balance was incorrect-after all, the people who truly make a difference are those who focus and specialize at the expense of their personal lives. Under the pretense of creating a personal, balance-restored foundation to be able to accomplish Bigger and Better ThingsTM, I disentangled myself from various commitments, but I am not experiencing the anticipated effects.
On Sunday, Nic and I watched a screening for The Corporation, a clever film about the history and role of corporations on a global scale which diagnosed corporations with psychopathy, according to the DSM-IV's frameworks. After the movie, we threw our hands up in the air and bemoaned the current state of affairs with the fervor and seriousness not found commonly enough in America's youth. In the next two weeks, I will attend six unique lectures, screenings and panels dealing with current events, and I used to be proud of the numbers that proved I was successfully educating myself. However, is my time well-spent if I do not act upon what I learn? Cuddling up in a chair with a book about the horrors of Wal-Mart, snuggled in a No Sweat sweatshirt and sipping Fair Trade coffee creates a comforting mental image, but my time could be used more efficiently.
While these 400 words are a rather lengthy introduction to the few sentences I want to write, I need to write them to remind myself of the importance of action. This evening (morning?), I took a baby step toward where I need to be and wrote my first letter to a politician. I realized that despite my constant harking of others to write in to Gov. Gregoire concerning the annulment of the Roadless Area Conservation Rule, I had never written in myself to express my outrage, and so this seemed to be a good place to start. As I continued to scrawl down pleas for leaving well enough alone, I became more and more passionate about what I said until I hit the bottom line of the page and was forced to sign my name and call it quits. My new goal is to write one letter a week to a local, state or federal politician. I see this as a bandage to move me along the way to reduce my passivity; I cannot complain that it does not fit into my schedule, as it takes so little time and can be done whenever I choose.
The envelope sits on my desk, waiting for tomorrow's mail; the green ink of the address is almost glowing with pleasure at the prospect of being sent across the country and making an infinitesimal difference. Hello, Olympia! Hopefully you'll hear from me again soon.
Last year, I was perhaps more unbalanced than in high school. Too often, I focused internally and remained stagnant, doing nothing to improve myself nor my community, and so I threw myself into a variety of extra-curricular activities this year. At the beginning of the year, I was all yang and no yin, and thus lacked any of the self-actualization I sought. Unconvincingly, I repeated to myself how my philosophy of balance was incorrect-after all, the people who truly make a difference are those who focus and specialize at the expense of their personal lives. Under the pretense of creating a personal, balance-restored foundation to be able to accomplish Bigger and Better ThingsTM, I disentangled myself from various commitments, but I am not experiencing the anticipated effects.
On Sunday, Nic and I watched a screening for The Corporation, a clever film about the history and role of corporations on a global scale which diagnosed corporations with psychopathy, according to the DSM-IV's frameworks. After the movie, we threw our hands up in the air and bemoaned the current state of affairs with the fervor and seriousness not found commonly enough in America's youth. In the next two weeks, I will attend six unique lectures, screenings and panels dealing with current events, and I used to be proud of the numbers that proved I was successfully educating myself. However, is my time well-spent if I do not act upon what I learn? Cuddling up in a chair with a book about the horrors of Wal-Mart, snuggled in a No Sweat sweatshirt and sipping Fair Trade coffee creates a comforting mental image, but my time could be used more efficiently.
While these 400 words are a rather lengthy introduction to the few sentences I want to write, I need to write them to remind myself of the importance of action. This evening (morning?), I took a baby step toward where I need to be and wrote my first letter to a politician. I realized that despite my constant harking of others to write in to Gov. Gregoire concerning the annulment of the Roadless Area Conservation Rule, I had never written in myself to express my outrage, and so this seemed to be a good place to start. As I continued to scrawl down pleas for leaving well enough alone, I became more and more passionate about what I said until I hit the bottom line of the page and was forced to sign my name and call it quits. My new goal is to write one letter a week to a local, state or federal politician. I see this as a bandage to move me along the way to reduce my passivity; I cannot complain that it does not fit into my schedule, as it takes so little time and can be done whenever I choose.
The envelope sits on my desk, waiting for tomorrow's mail; the green ink of the address is almost glowing with pleasure at the prospect of being sent across the country and making an infinitesimal difference. Hello, Olympia! Hopefully you'll hear from me again soon.