I don't know if you ever envision a scene from your life as being like one from a movie.
But for at least a few weeks now I've had one in my head. Standing at the airport in front of security,
Sufjan Stevens's "Chicago" playing in the background.
All things go, all things go...And I'm waiting for someone. And I have missed this person for a long time. I don't notice anyone else around me because they aren't as important as seeing this person. And for a minute I have my head down, looking, but not really, at the teal carpeted floors. And when I look up, the person is there walking towards me and everything is moving in slow motion and that one great part of the song is playing.
I've made a lot of mistakes, I've made a lot of mistakes...And still in slow motion, we're running towards each other, more desperate than we have been the past four months. And we're there, we're together, hugging and embracing so hard and I'm crying and we're so close and I'm so relieved and this is just always how I pictured it.
About eight hours now.
Happy holidays.
"Did you say my life was a shame,
that all of my promises were broken?
And did you hear, so loud and clear
that I just wanted to be with you, again."
I can't really say enough about how beautiful this song is so I'll just tell you, it's Jesuit seniors Chris Nye and Brittany Newell at the first Coffeehouse this year. And I really, really love it. Right click and download, "Did you Say."
A couple things happened today.
First of all, in Festine's 4th period English class, we were assigned to write a reflection on transcendentalism. There were some interesting papers with a lot of original insights, and there were some papers full of predictable, pretentious bullshit. And one quiet, shy girl I didn't really know was asked to read her paper, and she did -- and it was probably one of the most powerful pieces of writing I've ever heard.
I really want to avoid summing it up, because her unique voice and strong but quiet manner really added to its intensity. Basically she related to us, in a very striking style of honesty, the frustration she feels about herself and school, because it smothers the person she is and turns her into something she never realized she could be ... someone so terrified of being judged that she avoids people as much as possible and tries to become completely invisible. Her voice shook as she read to us, and by the end it'd gotten so intense that the room fell dead silent.
Our class was left blown away. Slackjawed. It was truly amazing.
Personally, it opened my eyes to see myself -- and the difference in that I surround myself with people and act out, sometimes outrageously, to prevent from being lonely, and she skips out on lunch to avoid even setting herself up. And somehow we both end up feeling sort of the same way. But I had so much admiration for her, because I feel like that while I settle into a haze of safe monotony, she doesn't let herself off that easily -- she refuses to sugarcoat her own truths, no matter what pain she must face. And this is something that, to me, makes her an overall strong and amazing person.
So I wrote her a letter, trying to articulate all this as much as possible. I did what I could. And I think she appreciated it, because when I saw her at Coffeehouse later in the evening, she approached me and we ended up hanging out the rest of the night.
It makes me wonder what sort of amazing people I've passed by without a second thought.
The second good thing that happened was, I performed! It's something I've always wanted to do, but never before have I been motivated or confident enough to follow through with. Not that I wasn't scared shitless; all day I was nervously plucking away at my dad's guitar, moaning nervously in intermittent spurts, feeling like I was going to piss my pants when I'd just gone to the bathroom.
But I did it. And I felt like it went pretty well. And I have no regrets in this regard.
That's probably a good place to end.
