All Wound Up
(Please note this was written one day when I had no internet; it was later copy pasted onto the web.)
There’s this little toy. It sits on the professor’s shelf all the time, along with some other toys. It’s the type of thing that a curious student will fiddle with during a professor’s office hour, talking about class loads and such. Today, the professor has had a tough day and comes out of class and heads to his office. He closes the door behind him today; after all, he doesn’t want the other teachers or the dean or so on to see him playing with his toys.
He picks up a little wind-up kangaroo. He sits down at his desk, winds it up, and sets in on the table. It takes two small hops before executing a back-flip. This repeats twice, but then the winding runs out and the kangaroo doesn’t quite start the fourth back-flip. Professor Tim Clipson, who also is the Texas-Oklahoma Key Club District Administrator, looks at the little kangaroo and sees himself and everyone else in the world.
We’re all sitting in a circle in a room as he tells this story, and all I can do is reach down for my binder, flip to the reflections page and write three words: all wound up. With the conclusion of this story, and a bit of dialogue between people in the room, we dismiss what will probably be the last meaningful session of this year’s IndyCon, formally known as the Indianapolis Leadership Conference or something to that extent. It’s when the International Council - including all the governors in addition to the board - have their one chance to hang out together for a fun weekend that will never be forgotten.
I’m currently sitting alone in a Marion College dorm, which is actually pretty nice because I’m not afraid of keeping up a roommate (one of the people in my conjoining room leaves for the airport at 5) and the fact that the dorm is just a nice facility. It’s air-conditioned and has one bathroom per two rooms. Without a roommate, I was able to pull the second bed next to the first, leaving me with a king-sized dorm bed. I’m wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot, one foot on the seat as I type to “Mockingbird” by Eminem. But what keeps coming back in my head are those three words: all wound up.
Before today, if someone told me they were all wound up, I’d automatically assume that they were stressed out and needed some help getting through something. Now, I hear that term and it explains the problems I’ve gone through in my first two years of being a high-schooler. It all goes back to the kangaroo. When it’s wound up freshly, it’s quick to flip. But very quickly, the winding runs down and it stops doing much of anything, until it stops completely.
The guys, who, while TPing the hallway (with the promise to Mike Downs that they would clean it up) just came in and started skimming this, and, bored, went back out. The music playing right now is part of the Saving Private Ryan soundtrack, good slow music by John Williams. The only reason why I’m even bothering to give such little details is because it’s all part of the weekend, the little memories that carry on and come back at random points to lighten me up, to make me smile, to add to my winding.
It’s things like IndyCon, ICON, DCON, KFC, some other odd acronyms, and board meetings that really wind me up. It’s coming back from some time when I get the chance to hang out with other Key Clubbers or kids who otherwise know how to have fun and still be outstanding in their lives that really convinces me to work harder. Or, in another context, it’s a portrayal of Confucius that winds me up to learn Chinese; another, a 1960 on a practice SAT that winds me up to study for the SAT.
I have a weak spring.
It used to be, I’d get home from a weekend, convinced I’d work my butt off. I do my job for some 5 days, then start saying, “Oh, I’ll do it tomorrow” until I get to the point that I don’t do it anymore. My year as an LTG - I worked for a good two months, and then started making near-bogus excuses to cancel DCMs and not send out e-mails and so forth. No one on the board even tried to convince me to work - they all weren’t either. By the time February, and the realization that my term was nearing completion, rolled around, I merely kicked myself and said I’d do better. I wound myself even tighter, ran for international endorsement, got elected International Trustee, and now am ready to do better.
It really makes me wonder.
But there’s the whole thing about determination and focus, how it can all come with age. I try to say I’m more mature than my age, but it’s completely false. Sure, I can sit down and listen to someone, pick up their problems, help them feel better. But, so far, I have yet to prove that I can sit down and listen to my own problems, do what I need to do all the time. And this time I have the most to give up. This time, not only do I have a reputation but expectations - external and internal - to go above and beyond the call of duty.
Right now, I’m wound up.
How long will it last? History says not long at all. What makes me think this time is any different? Nothing. In fact, I’m just as sure now as I was today in the session that I will unwind as quickly as I have before. The real question I have now is, what will I do, and what can I try and get people to do that will keep me wound up? What is it that will keep the spring taut and the engine chugging?
And then, looking not just at Key Club, I get into the rest of my life. The determination to study, to end procrastination - I get so close, so close to becoming a hard worker with an excellent work ethic when, one day, I look at my computer and I say, “Hey, why not just 20 minutes of Super Smash Bros.?”
It’s not even like I just want to have fun. It’s not even like I need a break. It’s just because I get lazy and I don’t want to work. It’s just because I’m being an idiot and believing that my short life has enough time to slack off. And, writing this, I’m so worked up and determined to never slack off - but, from all the past experiences, I wonder, I desperately want to know if I can really do it now. I really need to understand if being 16, if being an international trustee, if being a junior, if being ME, is the only thing that I need to truly stop the slacking.
It’s late. I need sleep; I’m getting up early tomorrow morning to retrieve my notepad from the session room so I can hurry up and finish writing all my notes or lifelines to the rest of the kids whom I’ve spent the last couple days being who I want to be. But that’s an entire other conversation.
Until then, I’m waiting to release the spring.
Goodnight.
A Brown Eyed Girl will send me to bed.
There’s this little toy. It sits on the professor’s shelf all the time, along with some other toys. It’s the type of thing that a curious student will fiddle with during a professor’s office hour, talking about class loads and such. Today, the professor has had a tough day and comes out of class and heads to his office. He closes the door behind him today; after all, he doesn’t want the other teachers or the dean or so on to see him playing with his toys.
He picks up a little wind-up kangaroo. He sits down at his desk, winds it up, and sets in on the table. It takes two small hops before executing a back-flip. This repeats twice, but then the winding runs out and the kangaroo doesn’t quite start the fourth back-flip. Professor Tim Clipson, who also is the Texas-Oklahoma Key Club District Administrator, looks at the little kangaroo and sees himself and everyone else in the world.
We’re all sitting in a circle in a room as he tells this story, and all I can do is reach down for my binder, flip to the reflections page and write three words: all wound up. With the conclusion of this story, and a bit of dialogue between people in the room, we dismiss what will probably be the last meaningful session of this year’s IndyCon, formally known as the Indianapolis Leadership Conference or something to that extent. It’s when the International Council - including all the governors in addition to the board - have their one chance to hang out together for a fun weekend that will never be forgotten.
I’m currently sitting alone in a Marion College dorm, which is actually pretty nice because I’m not afraid of keeping up a roommate (one of the people in my conjoining room leaves for the airport at 5) and the fact that the dorm is just a nice facility. It’s air-conditioned and has one bathroom per two rooms. Without a roommate, I was able to pull the second bed next to the first, leaving me with a king-sized dorm bed. I’m wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot, one foot on the seat as I type to “Mockingbird” by Eminem. But what keeps coming back in my head are those three words: all wound up.
Before today, if someone told me they were all wound up, I’d automatically assume that they were stressed out and needed some help getting through something. Now, I hear that term and it explains the problems I’ve gone through in my first two years of being a high-schooler. It all goes back to the kangaroo. When it’s wound up freshly, it’s quick to flip. But very quickly, the winding runs down and it stops doing much of anything, until it stops completely.
The guys, who, while TPing the hallway (with the promise to Mike Downs that they would clean it up) just came in and started skimming this, and, bored, went back out. The music playing right now is part of the Saving Private Ryan soundtrack, good slow music by John Williams. The only reason why I’m even bothering to give such little details is because it’s all part of the weekend, the little memories that carry on and come back at random points to lighten me up, to make me smile, to add to my winding.
It’s things like IndyCon, ICON, DCON, KFC, some other odd acronyms, and board meetings that really wind me up. It’s coming back from some time when I get the chance to hang out with other Key Clubbers or kids who otherwise know how to have fun and still be outstanding in their lives that really convinces me to work harder. Or, in another context, it’s a portrayal of Confucius that winds me up to learn Chinese; another, a 1960 on a practice SAT that winds me up to study for the SAT.
I have a weak spring.
It used to be, I’d get home from a weekend, convinced I’d work my butt off. I do my job for some 5 days, then start saying, “Oh, I’ll do it tomorrow” until I get to the point that I don’t do it anymore. My year as an LTG - I worked for a good two months, and then started making near-bogus excuses to cancel DCMs and not send out e-mails and so forth. No one on the board even tried to convince me to work - they all weren’t either. By the time February, and the realization that my term was nearing completion, rolled around, I merely kicked myself and said I’d do better. I wound myself even tighter, ran for international endorsement, got elected International Trustee, and now am ready to do better.
It really makes me wonder.
But there’s the whole thing about determination and focus, how it can all come with age. I try to say I’m more mature than my age, but it’s completely false. Sure, I can sit down and listen to someone, pick up their problems, help them feel better. But, so far, I have yet to prove that I can sit down and listen to my own problems, do what I need to do all the time. And this time I have the most to give up. This time, not only do I have a reputation but expectations - external and internal - to go above and beyond the call of duty.
Right now, I’m wound up.
How long will it last? History says not long at all. What makes me think this time is any different? Nothing. In fact, I’m just as sure now as I was today in the session that I will unwind as quickly as I have before. The real question I have now is, what will I do, and what can I try and get people to do that will keep me wound up? What is it that will keep the spring taut and the engine chugging?
And then, looking not just at Key Club, I get into the rest of my life. The determination to study, to end procrastination - I get so close, so close to becoming a hard worker with an excellent work ethic when, one day, I look at my computer and I say, “Hey, why not just 20 minutes of Super Smash Bros.?”
It’s not even like I just want to have fun. It’s not even like I need a break. It’s just because I get lazy and I don’t want to work. It’s just because I’m being an idiot and believing that my short life has enough time to slack off. And, writing this, I’m so worked up and determined to never slack off - but, from all the past experiences, I wonder, I desperately want to know if I can really do it now. I really need to understand if being 16, if being an international trustee, if being a junior, if being ME, is the only thing that I need to truly stop the slacking.
It’s late. I need sleep; I’m getting up early tomorrow morning to retrieve my notepad from the session room so I can hurry up and finish writing all my notes or lifelines to the rest of the kids whom I’ve spent the last couple days being who I want to be. But that’s an entire other conversation.
Until then, I’m waiting to release the spring.
Goodnight.
A Brown Eyed Girl will send me to bed.