Thursday, May 10, 2007. Two years prior, my education at NYU ended. Unofficially. Unceremoniously. It just happened and life went on. Had my life followed a different path, I would be pictured with my friends, capped and gowned, smiling in relief and in triumph. I would be a part of something. I would be a different person. Not better. Only different.
We are shaped by our experiences. The mistakes, the successes, the failures. All the good and all the bad. They are tremendously important in contributing to who we are as individuals and what we value as human beings. Over the past two years, I have been so happy, I could have cried. And I have been so sad, I wanted to. Sometimes, I had to. I was forced, really, to learn humility, to learn to trust and to love others for who they are, not just who I wanted them to be. I was forced, really, to learn patience and understanding, because without them, how could I expect anyone to be patient with or try to understand me? In short, I was forced, really, to become an adult. To accept responsibility for my actions, because there was no one there to clean up my messes. It was me. It was only me, so I had to be accountable. Yes, it was a most trying time and there were certain things not worth going into that I wish had not happened. Yet, regret is pointless. It leaves one stranded in the past when the future is waiting to be explored. The past is important only to learn from the mistakes and try not to repeat them again. To dwell there is an unpleasant fate.
As I look at those pictures in which I am absent, I am filled with a strange mix of emotions. Not envy. Not anger. Not sadness. But all three congealed into a sense of curious detachment. I am an outsider looking in. Though I have often felt this. Felt somehow different. Not better. Just different. I think that is why I wasn’t phased when I left school. At least, not as phased as I could have been. I even expected it. With no one to shoulder the costs of a private university, I realized that I might not be able to return for my junior year. Actually, I had planned to return. Eventually. But not really. In reality, I was excited. I was happy to be leaving school because it only seemed to be draining what little money I had in return for an education I was not interested in attaining. A part of me, a very large part, loves to thrive. Loves to prove that I can do it. Both to myself and to everyone else. Chalk it up to the foolishness of youth. Even with a short perspective of two years, I can look back and see that things could have gone far worse than they did. But with luck, tenacity and help from my friends, my life has gone fairly well. Always a struggle, but always fun. Had I stayed at NYU, I wouldn’t have had those experiences. I wouldn’t be me. I’d be different. Perhaps a little worse. But most assuredly, different.
Who knows what the future holds for any of us? I might go back to school, I might not. My friends, hopefully, will stay in New York, and yet again, they might not. Life leads us all on different paths and the most we can do is make the best of the journey. To enjoy it and to not regret what has happened or waste time wondering what might have happened. Just enjoy and appreciate what life has in store for you. And realize, who you are now, you are for a reason.
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