Man I need to find myself like
And a job.
My dad thinks he found me a job at grandpas that old tavern in glenview all my old teachers go there for drinks a bunch and the place is a PARTY on the weekends so it sounds fun. Demanding, yeah, cuz like, FOODSERVICE, but fun.
I also I totally hauled this lady out of a car wreck that happened right in front of me earlier it was super intense.
Okay, okay, so I just need to mention something real quick. So, when I was Kenya, I kind of had this one moment where I realized what an absolute fuck-up I’ve been and it was really major. I actually cried, but only like one tear because there’s no crying on the Serengeti. But I just realized then what I’d been given- the potential I had, some of which I’ve clung to, but some of which I’ve pissed away. A lot of which. Like none of our students, who are very, very bright kids, and worthier than I’ll ever hope to be of the chances I’ve had would ever even dare to dream of being provided with the education I had at Glenbrook South. And yet I spent most of it failing to do my homework and doing the bare minimum. I happen to know I’m capable of loads more. I’m gifted, in so many forms of the word “gifted.” I’ve been given many gifts- in the form of instruction and support and also in the form of natural talent. If you wanna get technical, yes, my IQ does make me a genius. But what did I do with it? Jack Shit. I went and let myself give in to negativity, I allowed myself the privilege of giving up because here, giving up means you still have a shot. You can still live and support yourself, even though you may not be proud of it. In the U.S., people with grades like mine have options, options in abundance. People with my grades in Kenya get married at 15 and don’t even make a living wage. That’s just how things work there. And I feel like a piece of shit for affording myself that luxury, the luxury to allow negativity to poison my ability. How can I give in when there are kids coming from places that are a whole lot worse and still come out at the top of their class. I have no excuses. None. Offering up any excuse, even one, would be utterly arrogant. I could tell you it was because of my brain chemistry, because we were fiddling with psychopharmacology and hadn’t quite gotten it right yet, I could tell you it was because I was a victim of my own intelligence, never having learned how to study, tragically used to coasting by. I could tell you it was the institution itself, too focused on memorization and regurgitation and how you look on an application and not enough on creativity and critical thinking, or compassion, quashing all intrinsic motivation. But that’s a load of bull shit, and I can see that now. Those are just partially-true, flimsy cop outs that I hid behind because the reality hurts a lot. I know I fucked up. I know I shot myself in the foot, I know if I do end up at a university that doesn’t meet my intellectual needs- and they are needs, intellectual stimulation is something I need the way a shark needs to swim- if they stop, they die- I know that if I end up at a place like that, if I end up somewhere where I have to go back to repressing those needs, to dealing with drudgery, knowledge that is empty and meaningless except for on scantrons, if I have to go back to concealing my passion for classical art and literature and music, for discussion, for beauty and truth and philosophy and ethics and logic and history, if I end up somewhere miserable like that, I cannot complain, because it is absolutely nobody’s fault but my very own. I’m responsible for making it that way- but I also promise you that I will be holding myself equally as responsible for fixing it- whatever may be fixable. And there’s two reasons for that- A) I owe it to those kids a thousand times over. Every single Matanya’s Hope kid deserves this from me. I can’t fly them all over here, or put them all in a fancy american university, but in their name I pledge that I will not let my gifts and my opportunities go to waste. That would be heinous of me. How could I ever do that when I’ve seen what I’ve seen in Kenya. How could I, knowing all I know, still hide away in my comfort zone and make excuses and refuse to apply out of fear of rejection. I have an obligation to succeed, because if any one of them were given what I’ve been given, I have no doubt they’d be ruling the world. And B) I refuse to practice this self-doubt and self-denial that is holding me back anymore. I know what I need from an institution of higher learning. I’m now an adult, and my needs are my responsibility. I will do everything in my power to make myself worthy of the institution I know I need. I can beg for forgiveness from universities regarding my less-than-stellar transcript, but if that won’t work, than I’ll prove it to them. I’ll spend a year in a not-so-great institution and I will be the best damn student ever. I know those universities have no responsibility towards me, no obligation to provide me with what I crave, no reason to forgive me my past transgressions- in fact, I might question their judgement if they admitted me when I think perhaps there are children who, at least on paper (and they’re being generous by even giving me the chance to explain myself in more depth than that. And here I am offering no explanations. Though I suppose at least that could be considered… unique?) are a thousand times more deserving and qualified than I am for spots at those schools. Now I’m well aware of the fact that most of these colleges have no reason to admit me if I can’t excuse my grades. I can only offer them apologies and promises, which I’m ashamed to say I’ve handed out before regarding my academic performance and not fulfilled. But I can offer them this insight: This is an utterly new feeling. At the mention of the word “college,” I used to launch into a full-blown anxiety attack. The thought of having to face the music regarding my grades and the way it would impact my whole life was enough to knock the air right out of me. But now, I stay up all night, just reading up on colleges, scrutinizing them, and scrutinizing myself, every aspect, every angle, until I find the optimum. Making lists of all I need to do, all I need to be to become the ideal candidate, or at least the best one I, personally, can be. No more fear, just an intense (and almost frighteningly so) drive. Suddenly, I’m a force of nature, an absolute superhero, tearing through essay questions and applications with blinding speed and enthusiasm. It’s a determination so potent it feels like I’ll explode with the force of it all. I cannot be stopped; I cannot afford to be. I won’t allow myself to be. So maybe this year, I’m not admitted to any of my choice universities. Does that mean I can’t ever attend? No. It means I get perfect grades wherever I decide to go until next admissions period, when I’ll apply as a transfer. I will try over and over again. It doesn’t matter how much rejection stings, it doesn’t matter that maybe I’ll end up somewhere where doing the homework assigned to me feels like torture, is demeaning, is insulting to my intelligence. I’ll deal with that. Because I owe it to myself, I owe it to the kids, and perhaps most importantly I owe it to whatever university chooses to allow me in. I know the risks involved with admitting a kid like me, with my transcript. Will I make them proud, or will they regret their decision? It’s a complete gamble- I’m a complete gamble. All I can do is beg them, as humbly as possible- I have been utterly humbled by my experiences in Kenya- to forgive me my past mistakes and take a chance on me. To invest time and resources and money in me on only promises- which is an investment strategy that nearly never works out- in the hopes that one day, I’ll go on to do great things and bring the university the honors and accolades it deserves, and pay back their investment tenfold. Still, that doesn’t scare me one bit, like it used to, like maybe it ought to. This new determination has the power to carry me through. This is one of those things that just MUST BE. It will be. It’s like dominoes, they’ve been started off and you can’t go backwards, you can’t stop them falling, you just wait until they’re all done falling. God, I feel it! This unstoppable momentum, this motion, inertia, power, force, it’s visceral and instinctive and feels almost as if it’s got something to do with my survival, like an evolutionary drive set free. I have got to, got to, got to do this. I must.
Augh I’m so full of ennui
IM BACK FRIM KENYA AND IM ABOUT TO SSSHHHHOOOOWWWWEEEERRRRR
Fuck I looked up videos of vshow to show the people here in Kenya and now I’m having emotions