This
is one of those coming to age posts. I know that most of you will leave at this
point because you were hoping for more naked men - I understand and respect
that.
Lives
are like novels. As cliché as it may sound, we spend each day writing a
chapter. In each chapter we introduce new characters, dive deeper into others,
take adventures, or just keep traveling on the same path. In Mrs. Funston’s
freshman English class, I learned that the climax of a story is when something
happens in the plot that changes it so dramatically that you know nothing will
be the same after. In other words, everything will be different.
In life stories, I don’t think the
climax is one certain event. It may be in yours, but not in mine. In my life,
my climax is a series of events. I think the climax of my life, so far, was
this last year. I learned so much about myself, I grew up, I took chances, I
felt risks, and I accepted consequences – good and bad.
Before
I moved to Italy I had never been on my own. I had not been to camp and I
rarely had sleep overs, always making up excuses on why I could only have a
late over or calling my mom in the middle of the night to pick me up. I had
gone on the skateboarding tour for months away from home, but I always had (at
least) my Father present. I graduated from high school and leaped into a
surreal experience. I went from always holding my family’s hands, to flying my
way to a foreign country where I did not know anyone, the language, where to
go, or what to expect. I was pushed out of my comfort zone. I was scarred, but
never did I ever regret doing it. Italy changed my life. Of course the culture
and aspects of a foreign country were striking and eye opening, but suddenly I
was forced to make decisions between good or bad, motivate myself to succeed at
school, fix my own meals, and wash my own clothes. It sounds silly, but I was
forced to grow up. Forced to experience. Forced to find out who I really was.
In Italy I realized what mattered, what made me who I was, what I wanted to be,
and how lucky I am.
This
summer I discovered a lot about myself. I took my mindset from Italy and become
conscious of where I stood. I had my first real job - and Market Street will
never be the same. I made new friends and created stronger friendships with the
old. I also lost a few. I gained confidence as I stood up for myself. In my
favorite book The Perks for Being a
Wallflower, Charlie says, “We accept the love we think we deserve.” I
finally learned what that meant, that I deserve the world and not to let people
pull me down or make me think otherwise. I realized who made me feel good about
myself, who I could be myself around, who I could trust - and who didn’t/couldn’t.
In
Love is a Mixtape, Rob Sheffield
wrote “She
worried way too much what people thought of her, wore her heart on her sleeve,
expected too much from people, and got hurt too easily. She kept other people's
secrets like a champ, but told her own too fast. She expected the world not to
cheat her and was always surprised when it did.” It was on page thirty-one that
it dawned on me that this is exactly who I was.
Now
look at me.
(please note that the stress from packing did not result in alcoholism.)
Ha. But really. Tomorrow I leave to San Francisco to study at the Academy of Art
University.
When
you are little you talk about what you want to do when you grow up. You draw
pictures of your dream room in notebooks, you plan your prom dress, go from wanting
to be a princess, to Hannah Montana, to a teacher. Then one day, you realize
that you REALLY can become anything you want. I cannot tell you the exact day I
figured out that I could be a photographer as a career, but I can tell you that
once the seed was planted in my head I could not stop feeding it nourishment. I
kept telling myself the negatives: the lack of pay, the uncertainty, what will
people think of you choosing art as a job? Will they think you took the easy
way out? All of those are still in the soil of my ambition, but they are
pushing me harder. Prove them wrong. Be happy every time you go to work. Put
your best out there. Make someone notice. That small seed that once sat in the
back of my mind is now a tangled vine, large and ever growing. Consuming.
Some
gardens grow forever without being taken care of. I sit here saying that I am
so fortunate to have the full support of my family to chase this crazy dream of
mine. I hear the stories from people who graduated from high school with me
about how they went to college because that is just what is expected of them,
status quo, what else would they do? My parents sat me down when I graduated
and told me to enjoy it. They believe that education is important, but take my
time. If I don’t go to school right away, that is fine, but make sure that
whatever I am doing, I am doing with my whole heart and taking advantage of
every day. How many people can say that their parents want them to be nothing
but happy? My Mother comes from a family where the in state University was the
only choice and if she wanted to go, she was going to pay for it. My Father
moved across the country because he wanted to ski and Utah had better slopes
then Michigan. Two completely different outlooks, backgrounds, and stories –
but they both agree on doing whatever they can to make sure my life is perfect.
I could not be anymore grateful for what they have done. My parents have (and
constantly continue) to support me finically, emotionally, and confidently.
Here is a shout out, because I could never thank them enough for everything
they do for me. I want to be them when I grow up.
Thank
you for the constant support, love, friendship, and help from my family and
friends. You are the true reason that I have the opportunities I do in life.
San
Francisco: I hope you are ready.
Here
is to this crazy thing called life and how addictive it is to live it with arms
wide open, Carpe Diem.
