Sophomore Year

A few days ago I finished my sophomore year at the University of Pittsburgh. That means I am halfway done with my college career. That fact is one that both intrigues me and scares the living hell out of me. I'm eager to see what the world has in store for me (or rather what I have in store for it), but at the same time I've become so infatuated and at peace in the microcosm that is Oakland. This year was the first year when I would come back from school and be uncertain whether I was returning home or leaving it.

I guess I'm lucky in that sense. Some people never feel that comfortable at school or where they were raised. I guess I have to attribute that to the people I've been surrounded by for my whole life. While perusing various social media sites I'll stumble across various posts or tweets or comments that bash the same place I grew up in. I mean, I get it, the Oakdale/Imperial area isn't exactly the most luxurious place to grow up in. With that being said I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Because if I traded away this place I grew up in, I would be trading away the biggest parts of myself. I owe 95% of who I am today to the people and places within a 10 mile radius of my house.

It isn't glamorous, but it's where I'm from and it's who I am.

And honestly, the kids I see complaining about wanting to get out are the same ones who never do. And for the most part, they're the same kids who think that this town and this school district are holding them back. When in reality they're being afforded every opportunity needed to succeed.

I can say that with 100% certainty because I know that if I fail it won't be because of where I'm from, it'll be because of me.

Luckily, I don't plan on failing.

With all that being said this school year was a great one. I joined two great organizations and met an absurd amount of new people. In a matter of eight months I came in contact with and fell out of touch with dozens of people. I made some new best friends and had some run ins with people I'm not particularly fond of.

I've come to realize that it isn't about how many new contacts you put in your phone, rather it's about the numbers, names, and faces that pop up every day. You know, the names that just can't seem to get rid of in your messages list or your call log. Those are the people that matter. Those are the ones worth a damn.

I think college is as much about grades and learning as it is finding people you give a damn about. Not so much in the sense that you need people to keep you company, but that you need to find something or someone to care about. The fact of the matter is that I'll never care about my academics or my job as much as I care about people. (I think that's pretty intuitive and universally agreed upon, but maybe my redundancy is actually necessary.) So like I said, academics don't carry as much weight as my personal interactions. While it's all well and good to write an A+ paper, it'll always be more rewarding to have a good conversation with a close friend. And taking a chance on a date with a pretty girl will always be more worth it than an extra hour of studying.

That's because when it comes down to it, years from now, what am I going to remember? Will it be the two questions I missed on a psych exam or the polaroid my best friends and I took at a hockey game? I'll soon forget how tired I was on any given Saturday, but what I won't forget are the memories made on my roof the night before.

Nobody reminisces about college and says, "Boy do I wish I slept more." It just doesn't happen like that.

I'm also slowly realizing that it's better to overreact than to come across as apathetic. They don't write books about people who barely care. They write books about the people who gave a shit. The best books are the ones about people who didn't bite their tongue.

The people who spoke out, spoke loudest, and spoke intelligently are the ones who get remembered.

Which means it's better to say what's on your mind than to assume somebody knows it.

If nothing else I like to think I spoke my mind this year. I like to think my words reached more ears than ever before, and I can only hope that they were properly received. Admittedly I'm not as poetic and coherent as I think I am, but maybe, just maybe, I manage to put together something with a little substance from time to time.

With another year in the books (no pun intended) I find myself incessantly checking my term grades, looking for final grades to be posted. But like I said earlier, I'm learning that more and more these grades mean less to me. My boss isn't going to be as concerned with my GPA as he is with both my ability to communicate and my previous experiences. Textbooks don't give you experience. Textbooks give you declarative knowledge but life gives you procedural knowledge. And 9 times out of 10 procedural knowledge will be worth more.

Enough about this schooling mumbo jumbo for now, though.

I just want to thank everyone from this past school year who played a part in making it what it was.

I won't be forgetting any of the memories or friends that I've made this year.

NP: Ho Hey- The Lumineers

Finals Week Blues

So this morning marked the beginning of finals week here at Pitt. Some students will luck out with only one final exam while others will be weighed down with five. I find myself wandering somewhere in the middle with four. I can't complain about them though because two of them are already done and my other two aren't until Thursday.

I guess my main gripe with finals is the sheer amount of knowledge we're expected to memorize. (Note that I didn't say "learn" because I'm not totally convinced the purpose of most college classes is to learn the material.)

Finals week is portrayed in popular media as this horrible, sleep deprived, coffee binged, wish-you-were-dead atmosphere. And truthfully it can fit that exact portrayal if you let it. For example, Thursday I'm going to take an exam for Quant that is worth 40% of my grade. The more exams I take & the more I think about grades or GPAs the less I try care about them.

I've spent too much time beating myself up over the fact I might not keep an insanely high GPA for my throughout my college career. Sadly, it's pounded into young students' minds that you need that GPA to make yourself "marketable" and "employable." How can someone tell me what I'm worth based off of some number? I don't care if it's a 4.0, 3.6, 2.8, or a 2.0. It's a damn number. And sure, that number represents how you've done in your coursework.

But again, I ask, "Who cares?"

Maybe the problem is that I'm equating work success with life success.

Maybe a GPA is essential in finding the best workers, but who's measuring the really important numbers in my life?

What employer is concerned with the number of lives I've touched? Or the number of people I can make smile on a daily basis? Or the percent of my day I spend thinking about the world at large?

I guess that isn't for them to care about.

I just wish my resume wasn't so much about grades and past experiences. I wish it highlighted what I do on a daily basis and what I do each day to better myself.

I think the whole résumé building process is a scam. It's about embellishing our minimum wage jobs to make it look like we've been changing water to wine. "Are you sure you want to put cashier? Couldn't you say, 'Customer Transaction Manager?'" NO. I was a cashier for God's sake! I don't need to bullshit it. It is what it is!

I wish my résumé could be made up solely of comments about me from people in my life. I feel like that would be a far better representation of me than a list of job titles and activities I partake in. Frankly I don't care what jobs a person has worked or the activities they're involved in. I care about how they treat those people around them, how they react under pressure, and what they're made of.

I'd rather learn about someone's moral fiber than about their role in the finance club. I just don't think enough emphasis is put on being a good person or standing for something.

We're here at college for 4 years and when we're done they give us a piece of paper.

That means that after almost 1500 days of our life the only material thing college leaves us with is a lone piece of paper.

Lemme show you a little equation I've come up with to summarize how college works based off of what you're guaranteed to give and guaranteed to receive.

Guaranteed to give:
1461 days of your life
$100,000 of your money

Guaranteed to receive:
1 piece of paper
1 judgment of your employability

That means... 1,460 days+100,000 dollars=1 piece of paper+1 judgment of employability.

Unless we add in another variable.
1,460 days+100,000 dollars= 1 piece of paper+1 judgment of employability+(x)

In my opinion that x is the real reason we come to college. The x is what makes it all worthwhile.

That x includes the relationships we build, the memories we make, the minutes of each day spent realizing that money doesn't matter, and the sheer moments of joy from finding ourselves in the right place at the right time.

Personally that last one is the most important.

There are hundreds of times a semester when I question why I'm here at college. I tell myself it's trivial and that my time could be better spent somewhere else. And then, occasionally, I'll have moments of pure ecstasy. I'll be overcome by the notion that things, even if for just one moment, are exactly how they should be.

You only know those moments when you're in them. Things like hours of uncontrollable laughter with my friends, fleeting seconds where my gaze and smile are reciprocated by a beautiful girl, the rush of adrenaline after finishing a long run, or the 3 blocks of invincibility felt walking right down the middle of Forbes Avenue.

Those are the moments I stick around for.

I swear I've felt it. I must've felt it.

Because what else would keep me going?

Certainly not some piece of paper.

NP: Boy With A Coin- Iron & Wine

Birthday Season

So my 20th birthday was this past Saturday and it has come and gone just as swiftly as it does every year. I had a tough time finding the significance of a twentieth birthday, but a close friend pointed out to me that it's the end of your teenage years. She said that there might be times we're sad that it's over, but that the nice thing is we can always act like a kid, it's something that never leaves us.

Anyway, birthdays are great for a lot of reasons. The most obvious reason being the fact that we get presents.

Whether it's something store bought and material or something sentimental made by hand, the fact of the matter is that presents are fun to get. We can kid ourselves and say that we don't need or want anything for our birthday, but when it comes time to unwrap a present we rip through the wrapping paper like savages.

Another reason birthdays are nice is because we usually get a chance to talk to or see our family when we might not on any other normal day. Without family, birthdays wouldn't mean nearly as much. 

One final reason why birthdays are so great is that you get to see who comes out of the woodwork to wish you a happy birthday. As long as you're enslaved by the social media deathtrap that is Facebook, you will receive impersonal birthday wishes from your virtual 'friends.' I received an enormous amount of Facebook-wished happy birthdays. And hey, there's nothing wrong with that. I won't ever turn down a happy birthday wish, I'm just saying it only counts for so much. The real birthday wishes are texts, phone calls, or an actual face to face interaction. 

Now that I've spoken in general about birthdays I feel I should talk about my own.

I had an awesome birthday. 

Friday night when midnight rolled around I was surrounded by my teammates. It was nice to spend the first few hours of my birthday with my newest group of friends.

I got to see my family for breakfast a few hours later and it was as delightful and uncensored as usual. It was nice having mom, dad, and Jenny all there. I guess I forget how, um, dynamic my family is when we're all together. (Yes, dynamic is just a polite way of saying that we're dysfunctional and deranged.) In addition to seeing them, it's always nice to show my favorite breakfast place to four new people.

After breakfast I sort of just hung out. Didn't go anywhere or do anything too crazy...Except helping to make a blueberry pie,. That was pretty insane given my baking history. I just hung out and talked and enjoyed my day. And after spending the majority of the day relaxing I got to go to the Pirates game. It was a bit chilly, but it was a gorgeous, clear night and I had great company. Plus it was fireworks night and that was the perfect way to end to my day. 

Looking back I received an incredible amount of birthday texts and calls and I can't help but feel lucky. Lucky to have so many people in my life reaching out to me to make my day special. 

So thank you to everyone who made my day what it was. Whether you were a birthday caller, texter, or whether I got to spend my day with you, you made my day extremely special. 

I'll end with some poetry because why not? 
(Admittedly I just threw this together in a few minutes, so don't expect much from it.)

The Birth of City Lights
I'm born out of darkness, 
shown light for the first time.
So I cry,
for the light is new.
If only I knew then,
how light inspires life.

As I grow,
I befriend the light.
Chasing her,
in her many forms.
Flick a switch for light,
or close your eyes for night.

Over time I've found light,
in early morning sunlight,
and midnight moonlight,
in a candlelight vigil,
and a passing car's headlight.

So I feel I've come to know light,
to love light,
to see light.
Whether light as natural as the stars,
or the glimmering manmade city lights.

I've seen so much light,
contrasting so well with the dark.
And yet,
I don't know the prettier sight.
A firework's glow that lit up the skyline,
or the smile that lit up your face.

NP: Flowers In Your Hair- The Lumineers