I think one of the hardest parts about being even marginally successful is the idea that you have not been successful enough to merit the things that you wanted to earn. For me, that has become painfully clear over the past thirty days, as I’ve finally realized that I’ve lost the numbers game. I will be graduating 0.015 points short of the lowest honors distinction, cum laude. And on any other day, I would be fine with that. But today, as I was sitting in the seventeenth out of nineteenth row in our practice graduation ceremony, I suddenly realized this is not what I wanted for myself at all. How did I manage to go three years through high school without batting an eye at the fact that I wasn’t doing very well, that I was allowing myself to get lower grades in classes because of pure laziness or poor organization. The worst part about it is even my fantastic senior year couldn’t turn this sinking ship around. It was too little too late.
But even if I had been in those first few rows, even if I had the benefit of knowing that I have worked hard for my place, instead of being thrust in the back of the ceremony like someone who came too late to a party and missed out on everything, I don’t know if I would have been satisfied. Every achievement, every award, every distinction that I have ever received is instantly overshadowed by something, and I can’t enjoy it but for the few short moments that it finally hits me. And then, when something disappointing like this happens, it hangs over me — the proverbial albatross, damning me to worse things and lower standards. It doesn’t help that I bottle things up, but just this once, just this once,.I want to be proud of my academic career. Right now, I’m not even proud that I’m graduating. I’ve almost thought of not inviting my family to come, because it would mean so much to them if I had just pushed myself that extra inch, if I had turned that two point deficit into an A. An inch. And I have, unfortunately, fallen short.
There are bigger and brighter things on the horizon. My piano recital is next Saturday, and I will finally be able to perform Let It Be on stage, instead of hammering out a few chords of it as a warm-up and seeing if anyone actually caught it. July 8th is my birthday, and I’ll be turning 18, which is momentous for two reasons:
- I have the tiniest possibility of helping to overrule the Republican majority in Texas come the general election (although they call it a majority for a reason)
- I will finally be able to try out for Jeopardy, so if you see me on TV in the next, oh, thirty years while I study, cheer for me!
And I will never remember this day when I look back on it, or I will remember it only in idealized fragments. Hopefully, I will have nothing but positive memories of that day, and I’ll make someone, somewhere — if not me — proud that I made it so far. Until then, I’ll be drumming my hands on my desk, trying to find something to do with my time other than brood. Like alpaca farming. Always a good outlet.