The Bed that You Make

I was just walking to the library from the communications parking lot and decided to take a longer, distantly familiar path, around Lawson toward the Ag building. I wanted to snap some pics with my phone, as I will soon no longer be on campus, and those who know me know that I am the sentimental type. However, I did not anticipate the rush of feelings that started to wash over me. Something melancholy? Possibly an aversion to the path itself or maybe associated memories?

I started back to school in the spring of 2008 at John A. Logan college. I made the decision to go back in the fall of '07. It was not an easy thing to put aside all that I knew, my professional trade, and just take a leap of faith into an unknown world. I had attended JALC for a glimpse of a semester in the fall of '91, but frankly, I don't even remember attending. I amassed a whopping 9 credit hours with a cumulative GPA of 1.67. Awesome, I know, but what did I care? Music was everything to me, and I just knew that my band, Cruces, was going to "make it." Of course, that is another story that I hope to reflect on in the near future. Yet those 9 credit hours were a springboard to acquiring my Associates degree. I was able to take 54 credit hours and raise my GPA to a 3.75 in one year which vaulted me into the Teacher Education Program at Southern Illinois University at Carbondale.

As for SIU --I never, ever saw myself attending this university. Both my father and younger brother had graduated from SIU, and my little sister had already gotten her Masters in Education from the University of Louisville...but me? I built houses for a living; I knew how to perform on a stage; I could write songs in my sleep --but pursuing a Bachelor's degree? It was never in my plans, let alone to become a teacher.

The spring semester of '09 was difficult...I will not lie. I pushed myself to physical limits with no sleep that I did not realize were possible. The first block of the El Ed program is meant to be an initiation of sorts, maybe to cull the pile of pre-service teachers. Who knows? We all like to speculate that is the case, but it is all relative. All the while, I did not realize that my personal life was imploding. I do not reflect much these days on what was really happening behind the scenes in the spring and summer of '09, because there is not much for it. It is irrelevant to my life now. However, my alternative path to the library brought back feelings from over a year ago...feelings that I was accomplishing something that had seemed out of reach...something great for my family. My perspective is somewhat different now. But, make no mistake, I still realize that my accomplishments will forever benefit my children, but a year ago, my point of view was from a different vantage point.

And so...I altered my path. I turned away from venturing to the Ag building and entering Thompson Woods from the west. I had considered going down this path, but knew it would only stir up the irrelevant. I knew my destination and decided against it. It is an interesting place at which I have found myself. Some days I believe that I walk a thin line between the concrete and abstract. This is not a horrible place for an artist, because I do believe wholeheartedly that my past immersion into the mundane was a critical detriment to my artistry. I have no regrets, but the mirror of my past can be very revealing in that aspect. I do not mean to say that I want to flirt with constant chaos for the rest of my life just write a few songs, but I can acknowledge the differences in my work from one period of my life to the next.

I am almost thirty-seven years old. Twenty years ago I was about to turn seventeen. For me, that is an alien thought, because my concept of time seems to be slightly skewed. I am still young, but there are those that are much younger. Granted, there are those that are much, much older, but I still believe that I have been afforded a place to consider in retrospect my actions and those actions of persons around me, both in and out of my personal sphere. I look at my family, my friends, my children, my former relations, my past lovers, and even those whose faces are fresh in my mind, but whose names I am no longer able to recall. Every person that I have known has made an impact on me to some degree. My life is forever intertwined with so many people, and when I stand outside of it all and look within, it is somewhat overwhelming. To even trace back bloodlines to Olde England or the Ukraine...so much greater grows the complexity of the threads of thought in my mind. I attempt it nonetheless, because I am sometimes afraid that I am overlooking the bigger picture of who I am, and my purpose in this so called life. Have I failed...or really, have I yet to even begin the purpose for which I am meant?

In reflection upon the past, I can honestly say that I would not change a thing. Everything happens for a reason, and I believe that our fate is defined by destiny. I was destined to make the choices that I did, and now I find myself where I am at now. Sitting in this library, typing this entry at a computer station. My next class begins in thirty minutes. In two days this intersession term will be over, and my summer semester will begin on Monday. That will last only eight weeks and then the countdown will begin for my student teaching this fall. I will graduate in December with my Bachelors and will be a certified teacher after I pass my capstones. And so, I guess I wonder sometimes, "How did I get here?" If this is destiny, then where to next?

My children occupy the greatest field in my line of sight. They invade much of my thinking, for they are greater than anything that I have ever accomplished. They are so much bigger than myself, and more than anything in this world, they humble me, as I often times feel not worthy of such incredible individuals. Because of this, I strive to be a better person than who I was the day before. I always try to impress upon them my observations of the constant struggle of the human condition to untangle the sordid mess of life. Surely it is the uphill climb to obtain true virtuousness? Yet, I feel that I should teach them that to crash and burn is a natural part of living...and how we rise from the ashes and react to the aftermath of the destruction around us...that those lessons are what truly define us. As any father, I want my children to be proud of me...but I want them to also view me as a human being with flaws...one that did the best he could with what he knew. I am only myself and nothing more. If I have been made out to be something greater or lesser than what I state here, then it is of machinations beyond my control. I am a father that loves his children. I am a friend that will run out the extra mile for you. I have the propensity to love for a millennium. I have the determination to build a tower to the sun. I have the complexity of the sum total of every unsolved equation. I have much left to be said, and when my life is over, realize that I was not able to say it all. Whether I was forced from the path that I was on, or rather have taken a different path of my own volition, the true answer is irrelevant. I know what I want, most of which is unknown to the rest of the world. For I am the only person who truly knows even the most ardent feelings that are pent up within my breast. Maybe that story will never be told...or maybe it will. I may purposefully broadcast with set intentions, but I have been around long enough to know that the target audience does not always listen. And so it goes...