A Life

A Friend, The Friend, or The Friends?

I’m a big fan of acronyms. “lool”, “xD”, and “J” are big parts of my texting and chatting lingo. However, Some words are just flat out misused. The word “friend” is something that shouldn’t be corrupted.

            We’re all guilty of misusing it. We all say “I have 184,696 friends on Facebook”, or “That guy I met 10 seconds ago? Yah! He’s my friend”. Lost in all of this so-called abuse is the true meaning of the word.

            A friend is more than just an acquaintance. You have to be able to tell him or her the truth, without any fear of backlash. He or she is a confidant, a purveyor of all thoughts, one who sees you for who you are. You only have to have one thing common with a friend…trust. Everything else, qualities and are inconsequential.

            I’m definitely going to reserve the word “friend” people who are well deserving of that title. However, If you think that 184,696 people are all your “friends”, you’re a very interesting person, my friend. 

Luck the Almighty

Only now I’ve realized that after certain times in my life, I’ve subconsciously reflected upon the past. But rarely have I documented these thoughts. For me, and in fact for everyone, these thoughts are lost in oblivion. Regardless, these retrospective thoughts have led me to realize that I have had a natural inclination to rationalize the failures a lot more.

            Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened to me in the shower at 7:00 PM on January 14^th, 2012. I just came back from a debate tournament, and was tantalizingly close to advancing to the next round of debate. I’d given my all to do well at this tournament. I poured my heart out and somewhat sacrificed my class work to prepare adequately. I can be a man enough to admit that the tears flowed. There was no other reaction to resort to. This wasn’t the first time that this had happened.

            After a recent string of failures, the initial goal of this tournament was to restore my honor, and to some extent, my reputation. My sophomore year, I was extremely successful. Advancing to the finals of a national level tournament, qualifying to the tournament of champions, and winning the best varsity Congress debater of the year made it seem as I had a bright destiny.

            Even now, I can’t determine what caused my abilities to falter. I’ve tried time and time again to think as to what must have gone wrong, but to no avail.

            That’s really the only reason why I came to this defeatist conclusion: luck is the only thing we can bank on. If the religion of luckology actually existed, I’d be an ardent supporter. But if one thinks about it, it makes quite a bit of sense. There are some events, when we think everything’s going our way, something goes uncontrollably awry. It’s impossible to rationalize.

Luck’s the only thing that determines whether we sink or swim. Even if we put in the effort, or have natural talent, it will all be to no avail. One chance missed, one detriment, even one undetermined cause can change your destiny forever. Of course, this is an incredibly pessimistic attitude to have, but through 16 years of trials, tribulations, and retrospective thought, that’s the only conclusion I can lead myself to.       

It’s rather ironic that I saw this quote as soon as I came home. It was even more ironic that it regards one of the loves of my life— the sport of cricket. Ben Cutting, a fast-bowler, was selected to the Australian national team to face New Zealand. Ten minutes before the game, he pulled his hamstring. Dejected, Cutting remarked: “If you could by luck at the corner store, I’d throw my life savings at it”. Needless to say, Cutting was never selected after that.

            Let’s just hope that one of these days, luck is sold in Target. I wonder who just lost his life savings…

My Medium

For ages, months, eternities, I detested writing. Even summer writing classes, nagging parents, and forced personal reflections never were able to arouse any passion.

However, it was probably because I’d never written for myself, always for some “higher cause”

But only recently, things changed. Filled up with thoughts, both positive and negative, I had an urge to let them out—to clear my conscience and to let others know what I’m feeling.

That’s why I’ve started writing for myself. The way the words flow and the blatantly apparent passion with which every word is infused on paper has surprised me. I never thought I’d find a medium by which I could reveal my deep deep thoughts.

That’s why I’d encourage every one of you to find your medium by which you open yourself to. It doesn’t necessarily have to be the word.

If that medium is just telling a close friend or loved one, painting a picture, or even sculpting a work akin to that of Michelangelo, take that opportunity. Finding your own unique medium, not one forced upon you by someone else, is something you will never regret.