Yesterday I spoke about January, February, March, and April, and perhaps the one thing I did not mention (of which I’m probably now obligated to mention, having mentioned not mentioning it) was that for a few months during that time I was in love. And the best of love, too: Requited love. Quoth the Dickens: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. But to go much deeper than that, well, is to go much deeper than I would be willing to go.
Nonetheless, there are twelve months to most years, and today I plan to look at four more.
In May the spring semester ended. Slightly before that stunning conclusion, however, was the Student Ambassador orientation–because I was selected to become one of the new ambassadors! It was so exciting, but also rather nerve-wracking. I can’t believe how nervous I was, looking back. To meet me today would be one thing: I might seem a bit shy, but not appear too nervous. To have met me then would have been another: I’d have seemed downright anti-social. (Then again, I have often been told, when I have personally felt at my most nervous, to have come off as coolly confident and at times even intimidating. I swear, they were but kind words and no more.) Nonetheless, I recall the day fondly: I met seven new friends, and one of these new friends became quite close, almost at first sight.
As I have insisted before: I believe in irony. (Not so much in intuition, but perhaps I should.)
Toward the end of May, my family also went down to Texas to visit my brother and his fiancee. I can’t say I had the best of times there (unfortunately my own attitude spoiled a couple days, though looking back I wish I hadn’t–I really was enjoying myself there, a few things withstanding). I turned twenty-one on that trip, and I enjoyed my first night of legal drinking learning that I hold my alcohol well, so I was told. (I only had one drink, but apparently the alcohol content was fairly high. I only felt like I needed to relieve myself afterwards.) The best part of the trip, well, it is a little bit tied between walking through a massive snowglobe dedicated to Wicked and going to the best bookstore I have ever been in–three floors of ultra-modern, uber-lovely shelves of books upon books upon books. I do love books.
Around this time I also began reading through the Pirkei Avot and writing weekly commentary on the teachings. I must confess, though: When I knew one particular weekend would be so busy that it’d be impossible for me to study one, I did double up the week before to make sure I could post it on time. Hey, it’s just what an author’s got to do sometimes.
In June I attended the Student Leadership Institute, which perhaps has had the most profound effect on me in lieu of how long I was there since I spent six weeks in Israel the summer before last. I was told the SLI would be busy. I was told the SLI would be fun. But nothing could have prepared me for how busy and how fun it truly was. For a week straight, almost every hour of every day was spent immersed in workshops for team-building and leadership development. I made more friends than I can easily count, shared many great discussions with many like-minded individuals, and grew into more of a leader than I ever could have guessed was possible. And yet, in the end, it really was but a week. Perhaps the most intensive week I’ve ever had, but a week nonetheless.
I spent the rest of June in recovery.
(Actually, I spent the rest of June reading: I finished reading Alice in Wonderland, I read Boy Meets Boy, and I read The Tolkien Reader–a most delightful collection of short stories and essays by Tolkien himself, one of the best books I’ve read in an incredibly long time. His one story, Farmer Giles of Ham, is perhaps the best story I’ve ever read.)
In July I attended the Phi Theta Kappa Regional Conference. I honestly wasn’t intending to do much more than I had to–I mean, I intended to go to every session they had!–but I hadn’t been intending to do more than that. However, I’d met a few friends from the SLI there–it was such a wonderful surprise!–and with their encouragement, and with the encouragement of my fellow Phi Theta Kappa members, I was coerced into extra participation.
My first endeavor was the debate–the first debate I’ve ever participated in (at least, the first formal debate I’ve ever participated in). The topic was whether media outlets or media observers should be responsible for reporting, or finding out, the truth. I was honestly in a position to argue for either, but since they were short on one side to have both sides balanced, I argued in favor of media outlets being responsible for reporting the truth: My argument was one based on the principle of trust. If we are raised in a society wherein we cannot trust those whom we are invested for information, how are we at all going to grow up into individuals capable of trusting anybody?
I went into a little more depth during the debate, of course, and afterwards, quite a few people complimented me and even suggested I run for regional council! I’m honored, but I’ve been down that route once before, and I think the next time I run for anything, it’ll be because of my own desires, not for someone else’s recommendations.
The second feat, which was the one more trying, was participating in the Readers Theatre, which is precisely what the name implies. I debated (this time with myself) what to read for hours, and finally I decided on reading my essay It’s About Red and Blue. That was the easy part: The hard part was getting a copy to read, since although we had internet there, there weren’t any accessible printers. So I spent half an hour, almost pushing myself past the deadline for signing up, transcribing the most essential parts of the essay–by hand!–so I could read it that evening. It was a hit. Again, lots of people told me how well I did. I’m sure I was blushing horribly throughout it. I don’t mind praise, when properly given; otherwise I much prefer to receive none directly. Praise makes me self-conscious, and I’ve learned that’s never a good thing.
Anyways, I need to admit: With my Public Speaking course in the spring, and with my forced presentations during June and July, I’ve certainly become a more able-bodied speaker. I can’t say that’s made me any less nervous to speak before a crowd, but I’ve certainly gotten better at setting that nervousness aside for a while to do what must be done, and I suppose in the end, that’s all that matters.
Also in July Student Orientation and Registration (SOAR) began. At times it was tedious, but many times more often than not the presence of friends made it worthwhile. (The irony here is that a few of the people I helped register for classes later became officers in the GSA. Go figure, you know?) And friendships deepened. And then friendships fell apart.
There was one more thing which threaded itself throughout my time during June and July: My summer psychology class. It was among the most fascinating classes I have ever taken, and I read most of my psychology book, too. It was truly enjoyable, and I definitely learned a lot. Although I don’t think I mentioned it then, a lot of what I learned in that class was crucial in my continuing and then later finishing my ten-part Super saga that I finished around the same time.
August brought a new school year. August also brought more Calculus, Computer Programming, and Physics. I was most excited for physics, and then for calculus, and absolutely terrified of computer programming. Little did I suspect that my fears were all misplaced: I soon learned that programming was so simple I could sleep through it, and that physics would be the most daunting class I would ever face (perhaps barring physics II, this coming semester).
But all and all, August was simply school. Not much else happened. I certainly should have hoped otherwise, however, because some of the busiest times of 2010 were right around the corner.
The Writingwolf: Words and Wonders 