It’s much easier to see things honestly in the moment rather than the future. Time has a way of making everything cloudy. We are often told that it takes time to see things clearly. But time really just gives us the opportunity to forget what we want to forget, and remember what we want to remember. That doesn’t lead to a clear understanding, but instead us manipulating our personal histories to our own taste.
Over the past several months I’ve been choked up. Unlike the writing that I’ve recently been doing, which is writing about an experience during the experience, it has proved near impossible for me to re-cap and make sense of recent years in a way that I believe is honest.
A sense of understanding and closure in regards to college is the mental hurdle I’ve been struggling to clear.
It’s been four years since I began university in Boston. And now at the end of the journey, each opinion I’ve developed during the experience seems to contradict an another. Every conclusion I arrive upon does nothing more than further spin a mental web of hypocrisy. It’s frustrating.
Whenever a personal experience so greatly contrasts an expectation that was set for you, it’s impossible to not feel conflicted. It’s not a question of who was right, but an un-wavering worry about whether you behaved appropriately to have fully grasped that which others expected you to.
As in any situation, I wan’t to believe that I had sucked the marrow from the bone – but when reflecting on my time in Boston I cannot confidently say that I have.
It’s not from doubt in feeling accomplished, but a simple lack of pride. For the one thing I’m most sure of, in this moment, is that I am not proud of myself.
While walking the other day I passed crowds of families whom had just left the Berkeley School of Music commencement ceremony. What I saw mostly were tears. Tears that were un-mistakable expressions of pride.
They cried as I watched jealously.
Trying to quantify such an experience, or falsify the meaning of it, is an endless rabbit-hole that I need to steer clear of. It is necessary to not view my university years as one experience, but thousands of experiences, all independent of one another. It’s the only way that allows each one to then make sense.
What will inevitably happen though is time. And soon I will forget what I want to forget, and remember what I want to remember. Invariably re-writing my own history to hold the meaning I wish it to.