Tuesday, February 15, 2011

A Look Back.

So from time to time, I like to look back at what used to be my life.  It's an interesting read.  Even for me. And today I came across this.  I needed the reminder.  Sometimes we become so far removed from things that we used to be passionate about that we forget what we're even trying to accomplish in the present.  So I give you... my thoughts on my last day of undergrad.  I cried.

On my last official day of classes as a student of literature, I would like to take a moment to say thank you to the many friends I have made along the way and recognize them for their insight, encouragement, and inspiration. I would like to thank the following:

Alice, for letting me see that even if one eats eggs, one may not necessarily be a serpent.

Candide, for not letting me be content that this is the best of all possible worlds, and teaching me to tend to my garden on a daily basis.

Mrs. Wollstonecraft, for inspiring strength in me and truly demonstrating that intellect, will in fact, always govern.

Frederick, for making me believe even when there are times I may be a slave in fact, I do not have to be a slave in deed.

Nora Helmer, for helping me understand that I can dance the most heatedly passionate Tarentella for a man, but in the end, he's still going leave if the dance was all he loved in the first place. And for giving me permission to take societally unacceptable risks.

The murderous Russian, I will affectionately call Pod: for asking me to examine more closely my value as a woman.

Roderick Usher, for reaffirming to me that we all go a little mad sometimes.

To Ethan and Maddie, for helping me accept the fact that when we make the choice, we also choose the consequences. But mostly for making me believe more strongly than ever that weakness and helplessness always cause more pain in the end than strength and confidence.

To Sylvia, for being passionate enough in her death and in her spirit now to still shine through her posthumous work, even when others would try to defile what meant so much to her in life. And mostly just for being totally uninhibited in her willingness to just "put it all out there."

And last but not least, to Ms. Dickinson, who wrote the words I live by:

My life had stood-- a loaded gun.