Who knows?
I assure you that the train of thought that led to this post was infinately positive. Not that this post is negative, but, like The Laramie Project, its hopeful outlook is mediated by sadness.
I was enjoying my night through and through. Got some things done (no homework of course but that's beside the point). I then began walking home and my mind was a blur. All day, I've been having particularly interesting if not scattered thoughts: I immersed myself in the audio soundscape that is Oakland circa 2006, I thought much of improv as I frequently do, ... well etc.
The point is, if you have managed to read this far, that I began reflecting on things I do and want to do. I have a lot of big plans. I can work for this company or that, direct this show or some other, start an improv troupe, build a jam space, record a sitcom, etc etc ad nauseum ad nauseum. But then I thought of all the people (e.g. my acting professor, the lecturer who spoke on film as a global language, Oz Pearlman) who have dedicated their lives to something or another. Sure, I have a lot of ideas and things to say, but on too many subjects. I can play DDR and improvise songs and develop an IT architecture and perform card sleights but I never give anything my all and so there is always someone doing it better. Caring about it more. Someone who inspires me, but only until I get bored.
This all works into a general realization. When I first came back to campus, I was well-received by those who missed me and those who love me. I was introduced by reputation as well as name to those I had not met. But I am no celebrity. I am not someone to listen to. I'm washed up. I'm a CMU has-been. I am living in the past. All I do is think about what used to be, what could be, and occasionally complain about what is. The Royal Society, the cooking club, fencing all help me look toward the future, but it is a future that is doomed to an inevitable end in May. My time at this school feels over; I've done what I can do and am left as the old man with a lot of stories.
But maybe it just means that this is really the time for me. I love college and CMU and Pittsburgh, but maybe it really is time for me to say good bye.
I was enjoying my night through and through. Got some things done (no homework of course but that's beside the point). I then began walking home and my mind was a blur. All day, I've been having particularly interesting if not scattered thoughts: I immersed myself in the audio soundscape that is Oakland circa 2006, I thought much of improv as I frequently do, ... well etc.
The point is, if you have managed to read this far, that I began reflecting on things I do and want to do. I have a lot of big plans. I can work for this company or that, direct this show or some other, start an improv troupe, build a jam space, record a sitcom, etc etc ad nauseum ad nauseum. But then I thought of all the people (e.g. my acting professor, the lecturer who spoke on film as a global language, Oz Pearlman) who have dedicated their lives to something or another. Sure, I have a lot of ideas and things to say, but on too many subjects. I can play DDR and improvise songs and develop an IT architecture and perform card sleights but I never give anything my all and so there is always someone doing it better. Caring about it more. Someone who inspires me, but only until I get bored.
This all works into a general realization. When I first came back to campus, I was well-received by those who missed me and those who love me. I was introduced by reputation as well as name to those I had not met. But I am no celebrity. I am not someone to listen to. I'm washed up. I'm a CMU has-been. I am living in the past. All I do is think about what used to be, what could be, and occasionally complain about what is. The Royal Society, the cooking club, fencing all help me look toward the future, but it is a future that is doomed to an inevitable end in May. My time at this school feels over; I've done what I can do and am left as the old man with a lot of stories.
But maybe it just means that this is really the time for me. I love college and CMU and Pittsburgh, but maybe it really is time for me to say good bye.
2 Comments:
that is what happens senior year at cmu. i think it has something to do with having been very involved in so many activities. you worked hard, tried to make improvements, and had a lot of fun, but now there are new people there to take over and you feel unnecessary and obsolete. at least that's pretty much how i felt senior year, especially in the spring. not that it will help, but my advice is just to have fun with the time you have left. you will most likely find the opportunity to do similar things (improv, directing, whatever) in the future, although they may be harder to find. but yeah, enjoy your last semester and don;t let yourself get too bogged down by the past. if that makes sense.
catherine
By
Catherine, at 12:09 PM
Hah!
"I can play DDR and improvise songs and develop an IT architecture and perform card sleights but I never give anything my all and so there is always someone doing it better."
Then why are you, my friend, at CMU?
I know exactly what you mean. I call it the "torpedo effect." I do everything that I do, etc, and say I want to get good at basketball. I practice basketball, maybe an hour a day even, take a class, etc. But I keep the rest of my life in balance. Meanwhile, some dumb jock is floating through easy classes, getting B's and C's, but playing basketball for 4 hours a day and kicking ass. If I ever play against him, he'll wallop me. He dedicates his whole life to something, something that I'll clearly not dedicate my whole life to, and beats me at it. Anything I do, there's someone who will torpedo me at it.
(are torpedoes one-use weapons? i hope so, that's why i called it that: someone will beat you, but destroy himself in the process, and the only way to beat him is to destroy yourself worse)
Point is, CMU is a magnet for torpedoes. You see it all over the place, kids doing this or that exclusively. And it sucks, because you'll never win at anything, you'll never be a legend, but in order to be a legend you'd have to have an unhappy life.
Which is tough for folks like you and me, because we (or at least I, I won't put words in your mouth) try to be renaissance men of sorts. Sadly, the renaissance was a whole bunch of years ago. So what's to do? I guess just be as well-rounded as possible, and get good at stuff that you like, and it helps if the stuff you like is uncommon (like, say, juggling or magic) because then it's easier to become better than 99% of people.
By
Dan, at 12:26 AM
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