My Universal Beliefs: A Recap of Young Adulthood

I graduated high school in 2007, but as a requirement every senior had to give a senior speech. It could be about anything, but it had to have a purpose, or a message for the underclassmen about how or how not your highschool experience(s) were valuable. Below are excerpts of my rough draft speech… I then went back and responded in italics to how my thoughts and sentiments have changed since I was eighteen. The goal was to write a rant about something I believe in. I believe in life, I guess, and growing up and how powerful that process is over humans. Many people don’t think about this in depth, especially as a senior in high school. And instead of legitimately ranting about something else, I decided to take a previous ‘rant’ and further rant or give light to my past rant… so enjoy my rant and I hope you think about what I’m talking about and try to apply some of my thoughts to your own life. Go human connections! (The speech was given May 2007 and the later contributions were written 11/13/2008)

Senior SPEECH, 2007:

I dream about all the things I wish I had said. “Thank you” when I should have.  I love you when I could have.  But after a little over eighteen years of living I’ve come to a brutal conclusion: it’s natural to be afraid. 

I still consider this notion quite often… not the being afraid part, for I am not afraid in the same sense I was then, but the dreams of affectionate appreciation. I do not think the people I love most in this world know that I love them that much. Actions are louder than words, or so I was taught in 5^th grade.

 

            I’ve always thought that there should be an instruction manual for strategies on how to get along with parents-“teenager’s edition”.  An escape, a reference for adolescent girls on avoiding meaningless tiffs about how dying your hair will make you bald or helping with the laundry because there isn’t a maid service in the house.  But in my case, these meaningless tiffs began to mount and became a heap-full of troubles.

            It boggles my mind how lofty the adolescent mind can be… ridiculous notions of what ‘is’ and what ‘isn’t’. Now they are ridiculous because I have a grander sense of life, and in particular what I may do with mine. No, I take that back. I have less of a grasp on my life, per say, but a tighter grip on the crisp quality of life available in this world, but not so available in America. That is, unless it cost over $30 and you can purchase it at Best Buy or Target.

 

 

Every one of my classmates will be leaving their moms and dads, possibly brothers and sisters and even life-long pets at the end of this summer.  When the moment comes that you are finally all alone, independent, and probably eighteen years old, don’t forget where you came from.  You don’t need purchase any type of material possession.

            I wonder how many of classmates REALLY took this to heart? None. Maybe one, or two, but most likely they were little ninth grader already forgotten about my speech entirely. Perhaps, not? Who knows, I don’t.

 

 

“You don’t’ need those to be happy, no one is happy all the time anyway…” I wanted to give up.  Stop it all. Right then and there.  A continuous spectrum of dissatisfaction and the constant tug backwards in time.  Kindergarten was when it really was the easiest.  But, she, my mother, was supposed to be the one to say easy words of encouragement and at least try to instill some level of desire and expectation back into my life.  I’m a hypocrite, though.  I preach honesty and a “tell-it-like-it-is” attitude.  But the truth was and is, is that I don’t like to hear it.  I felt like I was wasting my time in every activity that consumed my life.  And every action that I made was consuming my time.  I awake not wanting it, time, to begin, but never wanting it to end. I stood in some twisted version of a waiting line.  For something to provoke even the slightest of a smile.  [No red, blue, or yellow capsule was going to change this.]  For such a long time, I believed so strongly in what I felt, it caused a tremendous loss of hope, trust, and faith.  I knew that no person or pharmaceutical was going to make it “all better”.  With my friends, I began to push.  With my family I shoved.  Only I didn’t sense anyone trying to reel me back in.  It’s so easy to hurt the ones you love, especially because you assume they will always love you in the end.  In most cases this is true, like with family.  But the guilt was too unbearable that I began to blame.  It’s her fault, it’s his fault.  No, it’s all my fault.  Shame, confusion, awkwardness, guilt, unacceptability, unawareness, drive, envy, debauchery, jealousy, dissatisfaction, uncertainty.  These were enlarged, reused, and recycled daily.  The ritual became to feel, regardless of how hard I tried not to, get all mixed up within, and then contemplate to a point where it became a fearful to even think.  A very wise man I like to call “dad” constantly reminds me that I have only been on the earth 18 years, yes, as opposed to 49, and that that is not enough to be so sure of what I thought of people, the place I was in, and what the heck I’m going to do when my life.  It was startling to think that my “negative Nancy” or “Debbie downer” sides were taking over me all the time.  Why was it this way and why did I constantly question why things happened that way?  It was simpler than I thought at the time.  I wanted to go back to being a child, a kid who never had to worry about things as trivial as a math exam or getting enough playing time in a sections varsity soccer game.  But, those trivial worries build up the minute you put those princess tiaras or superhero capes away, and run to Abercrombie or Gap to buy the trendy new fleece zip-up that blatantly reads GAP, just so everyone knows you’re a “cool kid”.  I wanted to go back to the time when teachers and parents told you to “dream lofty, and as you do, you shall become,” and you believed it with all your heart.  I don’t know exactly when it occurred that I stopped believing.  When the fear built up and when the doubt and rejection began to mill.  Like I said, I blamed.  It is easier to look and pick at things on oneself and to put blame on your surroundings and environment rather than check the actions and reactions you are giving.  It’s easier to look at oneself rather than admit the faults within oneself. 

I have never gone a day without food, water, shelter, or someone in the world to love me.  I have never truly suffered, by definition.  Compared to the deep evil and hatred and I saw in the rest of the world, I have no reason to be this way.  But what a lot of adults forget, besides how lonely and hurtful it is to be a teenager, is that there are different extents of suffering.  I give thanks for the life that is given to me every day whether people saw that I was actually was grateful or not. But what is the most painful internally is to be completely aware of every blessing you are given and still be completely dissatisfied. As you strive for something more.  More, more, more.  I had my eye on some non-existent prize: the ultimate. And it wasn’t me or anything I had.  Again, in high school it’s easier to be anyone, anyone but oneself. 

So, this is what it means to be a teenager, are these affections what define being a young adult, a very young adult simply growing up? 

At the moment I am positive that my story is not a complaint, it’s not asking for pity, it’s not being ungrateful, it’s not being selfish or self-centered.  It’s being young, compassionate, and in high school.  As troubling and hurtful as it is to go through, it’s called growing up. 

I am lucky to know and truly believe that experiencing internal agony is only a reflection of consideration and empathy I have for others.  To a point where I completely ignored my own needs, only mildly focusing on the wants.  The difference between need and want is something I wish people, including myself, learned at infantry.  The awareness of this quite significant distinction would save many high school seniors a great amount of anguish…

American society has and will always change at a pace no young person can keep up with. I’m certain that the happy and fully satisfied people in this world are the “growing” girls and boys who wake up every morning and no matter what happens, no matter how hard things may seem or get, take action in accepting how miserable and wretched life is and will become at times.  As ironic as it is, that is the truth. It makes sense because if you look at those that have few material possessions and are considered “lower class” in society are much more likely to be happy on a daily basis as opposed to those people at the “top” economically, with a beamer, Lexus, or Beverly Hills mansion. 

My class of 2007, my advice from my experience, is don’t accept that other people will know you better than yourself.  Find a reason to smile, or at least smirk, at the tiniest things, knowing that what feels right will be right.  And the right thoughts and right efforts will inevitably bring about right results.  I promise.

            I genuinely and whole-heartedly made that promise. And even though I added some up-to-date additions in the speech above, I still promise and intend to consciously never break it. but it is funny how someone can make such a compassionate promise to others and not fully believe it for themselves. Does this make is a lie? False? Or just veiled ignorance?

 

 

Another wise person in this world, Louisa May Alcott, unintentionally wrote the ending to my tragic, yet jovial story.  And it goes like this: “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship.”

            I wanted to end my senior speech with this quote that I repeat to myself often. I didn’t. I think it was because it didn’t seem to fit the mood. I was unsure whether others would weight Alcott’s words with as much significance as I have, or still do. I wonder if it is irony that I incorporated this quote and now, two years later, I’m in somewhat of the same position of intellectual maturity and reading scholarly, yet insightful, excerpts about the Alcotts in a music-language course. Is it ironic or coincidence? What is the difference? Is one good and one bad? I don’t like questioning such things for my own mind; it makes me go somewhat crazy. But in writing I find it very purposeful to use this tactic to provoke the audience to think more deeply about what your writing, or saying. I think this is what Charles Ives was doing when he didn’t know the answers to the philosophical questions he asks. But then, I remind myself how many things about this world, or life in general, that humans simply are not ever going to, or supposed to, know and figure out.