I Play With The Slow Kids Because I Always Win The Races

Ever so often I stumble upon a song that changes everything. The numbers on my play count for that particular song sky rocket like the number of suitors for a teenage girl who has finally started to fill in. I don't care, that song deserves the recognition and so does she.

I make myself comfortable and take to analyzing the words, I pour over the melody and I come to conclusions, throw them out and form better ones. A song doesn't get played out-- people just change and forget where they were when they first heard it. I spent my senior year of high school, blasting Maroon 5's Sunday Morning in my brand new stick shift car, which I had yet to master and stalled out in the intersection of University and Commercial during the bridge. Now every time it comes on in my car, by habit I grind the gears.

I realize that it is rare to meet another person who listens to a song and writes the same dissertation as me. We all have different abstracts. And sometimes others will read mine and literally rip it apart. And my work is me. Upon this realization, I again was scared. I spend most of my day comparing my world now to that of when I was younger. Adults made it easier as they acted as the voice of God and kept everyone in line; you don't want to share? Too bad, sharing is good, not sharing is bad. End of story. I could be content to know that sharing is good. And if someone did not want to share, there was no argument. I would tell on them-- and they would inevitably be told by the Absolute that sharing is good.

I used to get along with others, I used to get sleep. As we get older we all branch off. We take up our own views on the world and all hell breaks loose. We all remember the day that we realized that just because someone is an adult does not mean that they have all the answers and can be our arbitrator in arguments. Before we know it we're the adults!

So it goes that when interacting with others and a disagreement of ideals is introduced there is no resolution. You could think that something is so wrong and someone else could think there is nothing wrong with it and there is no higher authority to appeal to, your parents aren't their parents, your teachers aren't their teachers, you're God isn't their God, and your ideas aren't theirs.

I'm an easily frightened kind of guy. When I encounter something new and foreign I'm spooked. I approach it trembling with caution wondering why it is here and when did it get here. I observe it until I deem it safe to examine. I poke. I poke and I prod. I poke and I prod and I wonder. So when I realized there was no authority to tell me whether I was wrong or whether someone else was, I was disturbed. Furthermore, with clashing of ideas, I would sometimes find my beloved personality being attacked. And there is nothing more unnerving than someone who attacks the very person that you are. I become furious in arguments with others when I know that what I'm saying is right, why can't they understand me? Why are they so stubborn? What's the matter with them? I figured it out-- nothing. They are different than me. I can't even say for better or worse.

My lesson is to not care. I learn to stay open minded but when I find myself in the presence of someone who I think has it all wrong, the best method is to leave them alone after I explain how I handle things.

The beauty of all of this comes in selection. As much as there are people out there who serve as a foil to me, there are others who serve as a compliment. No one will be exactly like me, but some, will be similar. There is no teacher to tell everyone they must share, but if someone feels like sharing is the right thing to do then they will undoubtedly run into others who, by nature, also happen to feel like sharing is the right thing. And the kids who don't want to share, it's okay. We don't have have to play with them.

I know people that it seems like most of what they say grinds at my ears. Most of what they do hurt my eyes to watch. There are people who watch me go about my life shaking there heads and kissing their teeth, who probably consider some of my ideals naive and my behavior awkward. On the other side of the coin, there are a handful of people in my life I can say how I feel, be myself around, and they enjoy my company and I theirs. You can feel it, the difference, can't you? Hide yourself among those people and let them show you where you can find comfort in who've you grown to become.

John Mayer was on demand the other day. I demanded. As I was watching, John Mayer said something terribly insightful. He told the intimate audience in a New York club that his song, "Who Says", is about being yourself-- wearing what you want to, doing what you feel is right, feeling what you feel is right. He explained that sometimes you'll wear something that you think looks nice and someone will come to you and criticize you, ask you, "Why are you wearing that?" He told everyone in there that when someone asks them that question they should reply, "This, I like this. Why are you wearing that?" He said that there are bullies out there. People who just want to tear others down. Don't let them. If we don't want to be bullied by others, we need to first stop bullying others. I've made it a serious point to take care with others feelings, and to not maliciously judge others. This is big for me because when I was younger, judging others was one of my favorite ways to feel better about myself. It was maybe three years ago that I sat in a Steak and Shake with Sabrina and our friend Lindsay. The subject turned to anorexics and bulimics and I, in a sheer display of ignorance, started arguing that people with those disorders are weak and just need to stop. They explained to me, with more patience than I can understand now, that there was more to it than that. But I sat there feeling satisfied that if I were bulimic or anorexic I would just cut it out. I felt better than people with eating disorders that day and ironically my food tasted better after that conversation. I felt superior. Curiously I have needed to quit smoking for years now, yet as I write this I'm smoking. I'm self-conscious about my dirty little secret and when a nonsmoker sees me weathering the elements to get my fix, they can look at me and say "He just needs to stop" I'd plead with them to understand that there is more to it than that. It was easy for me to look at someone over weight and call them lazy or glutenous until I realized how underweight I was and how much of a struggle it was with my body to put even one additional pound on. The world is cute like that.

No one asks to be over or under weight, no one asks to be addicted to one thing or another, it just happens that way and like returning home after grocery shopping with your mother, no one in life gets away without carrying some baggage. People are too hard on us; we're too hard on others. Next time you're with someone you're not too close to and you say something that flatters them and makes them smile, think about it. Think about how you made that person feel. And next time you're with some friends and you see someone who is wearing something that everyone starts making fun of, or comments on their weight, their height, or their disposition imagine how they would feel if you told them these things to their face. What does it accomplish? Everyone wants to be happy, everyone wants to be appreciated and understood, yet few people want to make others happy, appreciate, or understand them. It's our responsibility to do just that. And it is everyone's individual responsibility to spend a little time in introspection and try correct the aspects of them that are mentally, physically, and spiritually unhealthy. I don't simply get out of bed with lofty ideals-- no, first my feelings are hurt. First I'm taught a lesson. Then I decide on a new way of going about things.

As for bullies, I found that in dealing with the ideals, dispositions, and criticisms of others I was acting as if I didn't have a choice but to endure relationships with them, but there is always another sandbox. There's always another black-top.

Song: Rule My World- Kings of Convenience

I talk before I think
You shoot before you know
Who's in your line of fire
So somehow we're the same
We're causing people pain
But I stand and take the blame
You scramble to the night
(Rule My World- Kings of Convenience )

Dear Much Older And Handsome Me,

Dear Mark,

The day I got into Berkeley I roamed around the house aimlessly. Like generic lotion from CVS the news just wouldn't sink in and I reacted like I had heard someone named Mark had gotten in; I was happy for him. It finally sank in when I gave my mom and dad a call to give them the good news. Once I said, "Mommy, I got into Berkeley" I felt her joy for me. Together we celebrated and congratulated me. She said some words, I said some words. Once I got off of the phone with them I collapsed onto my big boy's bed, exhaled a big boy's exhale, smiled a big boy's smile, and finally said, "wow."

The subsequent week after that my face broke out from stress. Like a broken record I would always tell Mike the same thing-- "when I get into law school I'm going to be so relaxed, I won't even know what to do with myself." Thinking about it now, I'm not surprised that I didn't celebrate. Getting into a top 10 Law School is a feat, and I know many great students would be outright offended to know I took a precious seat and wasn't beside myself with joy. I should have just gone to church the next day, I should have led the choir. But the truth is I immediately didn't feel worthy, in fact, I felt guilty. There were over 8,000 people who applied and 500 accepted. I know my numbers, and I felt like I took someone's spot who deserved it more. On top of that I started worrying about where the money is going to come from, flying to and from California with my fear of flying, where my friends were going to get in, if I would be happy with my job after graduation, if I would even have a job after graduation, where I am going to practice law, if I was going to be far away from my family, if I would be able to compete with the students there, if my writing will be good enough to make law review, whether I would get good enough grades this semester that I won't have my acceptance revoked, whether the acceptance was an administrative error, whether my Japanese will be near fluency by the time I graduate Law School, whether I will have time to study Japanese during law school, how much I'll miss my close friends and family and other things.

Anxiety. I hope you're free of that. I hope you've gotten control of it. I was kind of depressed because although I had these concerns any time I tried to talk to someone about any of them they would just reply, "Stop complaining you got into Berkeley" or "Mark, you shouldn't have a care in the world", , "You should be the happiest guy at FSU right now, stop complaining and just relax." or my personal favorite-- "I hate you so much right now". They think just because I get into a school I am now the perfect person with not one care in the world.

I've slowly fought off most of my worries and concerns, continually reminding myself how ridiculous I've been being. I'm just trying to focus on graduating, really. Mark, you've gotten slow by now. Every quiz, assignment, reading, writing, listening practice, every exam, and every paper take all of your mental energy to complete. You're tired.

I didn't forget my promise to you to live a story. I've been trying. Last week I went to see John Mayer in Jacksonville, it was a memorable concert. I'm planning on a cruise for spring break. Berkeley will fly me out to California 4 days after my 23rd birthday. My friend Gina promised to show me around San Francisco. In between all of these events-- here and there-- I'll manage to do something exciting.

I kissed a girl or two in the past month or so, although I'm still working on an actual relationship. What a difference a few months make. I've become a lot more comfortable in myself and confident in my personality. I'm sure it helps that I've been taking care of myself physically too. I hope by now you found her, or at least had some good times with a few special girls. I wonder what age you were when you finally found that girl. Was it a Berkeley grad student? A girl you met on the beach when you were out with some friends. Or is it someone that I know now? I bet she's artsy-- like she dances or sings. Adorable smile too. I know that you appreciate her as much as she appreciates you. You're so lucky! I've been thinking a lot about love and finding the right girl. From observing people and situations around me it doesn't look good. Often I get the advice to give up on my "unrealistic" views of relationships. Screw it, what others do to make themselves miserable and hurt others is there business. If they want run through girls like the tight end of the Cowboys they can, if they want to be in relationships for the wrong reasons they can, but I decided I'm sticking to my view on relationships and women. If by chance I am wrong, I'll gladly die alone. You know whether I am or not, I bet you're pleased with the outcome. With that being said, I will push forward with the girls that I like. If they can't see what I have to offer, I will simply continue on. I refuse to accept the conditions I feel like a lot of people have accepted when it comes to relationships. I was never one to follow the crowd anyway and look where that's gotten you.

Mark, I hope you can read this now and laugh. Laugh at how scared and excited you were in February of 2010. I hope you are proud of me. I hope I don't let us down in the years to come. I'm working hard so that I can be just like you.

P.S- I'm thinking about taking out another loan... you got me right?

P.S.S- Don't let her read this, it will embarrass both of us.

Song: Still (Reprise)- Ben Folds