I'm terrified of these four walls, these iron bars can't hold my soul in.
Again, it's been a while since I've posted. School has been running me ragged, and I've just had no motivation to do any personal writing. Tonight, I feel compelled to.
I've been having a rough time with school lately. I wonder if I'm in the wrong field - I don't think I'm a very good journalist. Well, not in the traditional sense, at least; my print articles are average at best, but I seem to have real talent shooting and editing video. At least I've got that much going for me, and I can finally start to shine next semester, when electives and concentration courses are in my schedule. So I can breathe a little easier, I guess.
Tonight, I went to an event called "Boy Meets Girl," a series of plays held at Wagner College. They generally dealt with love, loss, and dealing with drama throughout college years, but that's not really the important part of the night.
On the drive to the college, I was thinking about what the campus looked like - I had never been there, but Wagner is consistently rated as one of the most beautiful campuses in the nation.
And it did not disappoint. In the visitors parking lot, I pulled into a spot that overlooked one of the many grassy hills the area has. Since it's turning to winter in New York, much of the hill's trees were partially barren, providing me with a nearly unobstructed view of the lit Verrazano Bridge. And in that moment, while struggling to load all of my recording equipment onto my shoulders, I stopped. I was amazed - knowing that this beautiful place, somewhere I'd never discovered, was right here on my island the whole time.
I grabbed my equipment and began walking towards Spiro Hall, when the plays were being held. After I crossed the parking lot, there was a stretched staircase with a large pile of fallen autumn leaves at the base of the first and second steps. Again I stopped, and I absorbed my surroundings - what a beautiful world we live in, decorated haphazardly yet beautifully. There is the filth of Brooklyn and the drudgery of Manhattan just across the bay, but there, in that moment, I was with no one but the trees.
It was a liberating feeling, and I flashed a smile that no one else would see. At night, Wagner is serene and intimate - not like the community college I went to, a sprawling mess of uninspired, cold brick buildings that used to house mental patients or dead bodies (Willowbrook Asylum) populated by a student body who could give a shit if there was a fire on the great lawn. That place was only ever a dead end, the path walked by those who live life autopilot.
I don't want to live life that way. I don't want anyone to make my decisions for me anymore.
Yet, here I am, in grad school against my volition. I'm here because I would have been thrown out of my house if I took a break from school. Don't get me wrong, I am learning a lot, but it's New York City. It's not who I am - concrete, artificial parks, artificial people. Chaos.
As I walked a bit farther through the campus, I quickly came across the banners lining the sides of Wagner's main walkways. The first line simply had "Wagner College" in bold print, but below it in italics read "an opportunity." That hit me - what was college for me?
It was a missed opportunity. Where had the last four years gone? Suddenly I had a degree, but so what? I couldn't remember many shared experiences. No community. No school pride.
I stared at the sign for a minute or two, maybe. It felt longer. I thought back to my graduation - the official end of childhood. But I have little to no memory of what I experienced. I spent all of my time hating the place, bitter that I had to stay. Bitter that I was sacrificing my happiness for a goddamn scholarship.
So I have no debt. So the fuck what? I'll say this right now - I would gladly go into a bit of debt if I could do college all over again. I wouldn't settle for what my father wanted because it suited his wishes best. Had I not got that damn scholarship, I would have put in two years then transferred to somewhere I wanted.
And, in that moment staring at the Wagner banner, I promised myself something: I will never limit my children's expression or decisions just to suit my own selfish purposes. The more I walked around the campus, the more I admired the surroundings. I couldn't believe I was only six miles from the place I grew up, yet this place was so beautiful. My cheeks felt a bit cold, but there was no wind.
I was crying. For all I've lost. For all I've missed out on. For all my regrets. But I wiped my cheeks and I continued walking - I had a job to do.
The plays themselves were fantastic, and only served to reaffirm my lamentations. I should have gone to a real college. I should have been in the theater.
I should have done a lot of things.
On the way home, I listened to Soundgarden. When "Mailman" came on, something snapped inside me again. And I started crying for the second time tonight. I felt like there was a void that I'd never be able to fix. That sense of community - family, I suppose you could call it - has never existed for me. And I think now, I've finally realized that it's what's I've been chasing my whole life. It's all I want anymore.
Someone cut me off a few miles from my house, and I tapped my steering wheel a few times to sound my horn. But nothing came out; the fuse had popped. Like me, tonight my car screamed in silence. I half-smiled when I thought that, and deemed it an appropriate metaphor.
I've been having a rough time with school lately. I wonder if I'm in the wrong field - I don't think I'm a very good journalist. Well, not in the traditional sense, at least; my print articles are average at best, but I seem to have real talent shooting and editing video. At least I've got that much going for me, and I can finally start to shine next semester, when electives and concentration courses are in my schedule. So I can breathe a little easier, I guess.
Tonight, I went to an event called "Boy Meets Girl," a series of plays held at Wagner College. They generally dealt with love, loss, and dealing with drama throughout college years, but that's not really the important part of the night.
On the drive to the college, I was thinking about what the campus looked like - I had never been there, but Wagner is consistently rated as one of the most beautiful campuses in the nation.
And it did not disappoint. In the visitors parking lot, I pulled into a spot that overlooked one of the many grassy hills the area has. Since it's turning to winter in New York, much of the hill's trees were partially barren, providing me with a nearly unobstructed view of the lit Verrazano Bridge. And in that moment, while struggling to load all of my recording equipment onto my shoulders, I stopped. I was amazed - knowing that this beautiful place, somewhere I'd never discovered, was right here on my island the whole time.
I grabbed my equipment and began walking towards Spiro Hall, when the plays were being held. After I crossed the parking lot, there was a stretched staircase with a large pile of fallen autumn leaves at the base of the first and second steps. Again I stopped, and I absorbed my surroundings - what a beautiful world we live in, decorated haphazardly yet beautifully. There is the filth of Brooklyn and the drudgery of Manhattan just across the bay, but there, in that moment, I was with no one but the trees.
It was a liberating feeling, and I flashed a smile that no one else would see. At night, Wagner is serene and intimate - not like the community college I went to, a sprawling mess of uninspired, cold brick buildings that used to house mental patients or dead bodies (Willowbrook Asylum) populated by a student body who could give a shit if there was a fire on the great lawn. That place was only ever a dead end, the path walked by those who live life autopilot.
I don't want to live life that way. I don't want anyone to make my decisions for me anymore.
Yet, here I am, in grad school against my volition. I'm here because I would have been thrown out of my house if I took a break from school. Don't get me wrong, I am learning a lot, but it's New York City. It's not who I am - concrete, artificial parks, artificial people. Chaos.
As I walked a bit farther through the campus, I quickly came across the banners lining the sides of Wagner's main walkways. The first line simply had "Wagner College" in bold print, but below it in italics read "an opportunity." That hit me - what was college for me?
It was a missed opportunity. Where had the last four years gone? Suddenly I had a degree, but so what? I couldn't remember many shared experiences. No community. No school pride.
I stared at the sign for a minute or two, maybe. It felt longer. I thought back to my graduation - the official end of childhood. But I have little to no memory of what I experienced. I spent all of my time hating the place, bitter that I had to stay. Bitter that I was sacrificing my happiness for a goddamn scholarship.
So I have no debt. So the fuck what? I'll say this right now - I would gladly go into a bit of debt if I could do college all over again. I wouldn't settle for what my father wanted because it suited his wishes best. Had I not got that damn scholarship, I would have put in two years then transferred to somewhere I wanted.
And, in that moment staring at the Wagner banner, I promised myself something: I will never limit my children's expression or decisions just to suit my own selfish purposes. The more I walked around the campus, the more I admired the surroundings. I couldn't believe I was only six miles from the place I grew up, yet this place was so beautiful. My cheeks felt a bit cold, but there was no wind.
I was crying. For all I've lost. For all I've missed out on. For all my regrets. But I wiped my cheeks and I continued walking - I had a job to do.
The plays themselves were fantastic, and only served to reaffirm my lamentations. I should have gone to a real college. I should have been in the theater.
I should have done a lot of things.
On the way home, I listened to Soundgarden. When "Mailman" came on, something snapped inside me again. And I started crying for the second time tonight. I felt like there was a void that I'd never be able to fix. That sense of community - family, I suppose you could call it - has never existed for me. And I think now, I've finally realized that it's what's I've been chasing my whole life. It's all I want anymore.
Someone cut me off a few miles from my house, and I tapped my steering wheel a few times to sound my horn. But nothing came out; the fuse had popped. Like me, tonight my car screamed in silence. I half-smiled when I thought that, and deemed it an appropriate metaphor.