It's Time

I've been putting this off forever. It's not going to write itself, so I might as well just sit down and write it.


It's been a year since I submitted the application that changed my life.  It's almost time for me to decide whether or not I want to submit that application again.


Most people would apply in a heartbeat.  If they knew how great this program is, they would say to me, "Is there really anything to even think about?"


Actually, yes.  If most people had gone through what I went through last Spring Quarter and Summer, and what I continue to go through, then they would know that I have some serious thinking to do.  This program is more than a program. There is no word to accurately describe what this program is.  The best I've heard is it is a way of life.


The question isn't really whether or not I would like to participate again.  Without a doubt, I would give anything to be a part of it again.  The question, at least for me, is whether or not I am ready to accept the responsibility, should I be fortunate enough to be chosen.  Am I right for the program?  Is the program right for me? Will I be able to uphold the values and the goals of the program? Would I be reapplying for a good reason?


I've found myself stuck in the trap of thinking in terms of black and white, lately.  My brain assumes there is a right and wrong answer, and having the wrong answer terrifies me.  With this program, all I ever hear is "if you're going to reapply, make sure you do it for the right reasons."  Now part of the problem here is semantics, because I'm sure most people who say that don't mean to imply that there is, in fact, a correct answer.  Unfortunately, my brain likes to take things literally.


I talked to Melyssa the other day about this program.  Not really about anything in particular actually, even though I intended to ask about specific things.  It actually helped a lot. I realized that I was stuck in this pattern and have since freed my mind to think in a more complex, multi-dimensional manner.


So why is it that I want to reapply?  I've been struggling with this question for weeks.  Months, actually.


What is it about this program that is so life-altering?  Is it how it manages to bring 130+ completely random people together and allows them to be so close?  Is it how being a part of it suddenly makes the university seem a hell of a lot smaller? Is it how it makes you feel like you are completely worthless because there are so many more amazing, inspirational individuals doing much better things with their lives?  Is it the fact that it gives us the privilege to mentor tons of incoming students and watch them open up and grow?


The simple answer is yes.  This program has the ability to unite people.  In spite of all of our differences, both surface-level and below the surface, people can unite under a common goal.


The other day, the last day of finals week, actually, I was giving a tour.  One of the girls on my tour started talking on her cell phone, which didn't really bother me because I know I sometimes give a boring tour.  However, about five minutes after she hangs up, I see one of my very first spoppers, Soumar, come running up to the tour group, and I couldn't help but smile from ear to ear and chuckle to myself a little bit.  I let her talk to my tour group and my mood was immediately elevated.


After she skipped off to go grab some food in celebration of finals ending, her friend who had called her said "she was never like that in high school."  The girl's mom added, "she's opened up so much!"


And it was then that I realized how much I'd affected these incoming freshmen over the summer. Even if it was just her, just Soumar, who I'd been able to help out.  That was enough.  That one person was enough.




In talking with other staffers, especially those who were returning staffers last year, I realized that I really won't be able to know ahead of time if I'm right for the program or if it's right for me. I won't know if I'll be successful or a failure.  I won't know anything.  It will be another year, fresh, applying with a completely clean slate.  It will be another year of unexpected joys and hardships.


And I'm willing to take that on, if they'll have me.




So why am I applying?  For all of those people who applied and didn't make it.  For all those who did make it.  For all the past, present, and future staffers and spoppers.  For Soumar.  For my family (thank you for everything, OMG).  For me.


There is no right answer.  There is only what I feel is good.  And I suppose, in the end, that's all that really matters, whether or not I apply.  Whether or not I am accepted.




All I can do is be supportive of the program and all those who have experienced its power.

And then...

All was right with the world.

A Letter to my Brain

STOP BEING SO CLUTTERED, DAMMIT! I want to figure things out!

Best regards,
Kelvin

A Vow To Myself

I dunno why I do this to myself every quarter. Next quarter will be different. I mean it this time.

The Strangest and Most Annoying Feeling

Have you ever experienced an itch that was so persistent and insatiable that you were fully prepared to scratch and scratch and scratch until your skin bled? Have you ever experienced an itch that was underneath the skin? Have you ever experienced both of these sensations at the same time?

I have. I actually experience this relatively frequently. It is always on my left knee - on the left side of my left knee, actually.

One of my friends from SnitchSeeker happens to be native to Malaysia, and she told me that this feeling is supposedly an indicator of future wealth (monetarily, that is).




....where's my money?

The Breakfast of Champions

Elysia is eating dry honey nut cheerios and drinking a rockstar.

Yeah....it's finals.

It's Official

UC students, say hello to the new 32% fee increase.

This is a sad day in California education.

I Am Disgusted

I am so angry right now. I am angry with the UC Regents. I am angry with the police who tear gassed and tased students for protesting. I am angry with the representatives who are reporting to the media that the police did not use force, or however John Kim said they're describing it. I am angry with this feeling of helplessness I have; this feeling that I cannot do anything to protect my spopper who was tear gassed. I am angry with the fact that I cannot go to UCLA today to participate in the protest. I am angry with the opposition to the student protests and the support for the 32% fee increase.

Never in my life have I felt so much anger toward an institution, and felt so helpless about it. It sounds dramatic, but the UC Regents' decision to increase fees by 32% has made me lose faith in people. How are we, the next generation, expected to pull the nation and the economy out of the current slump when we can't even afford to pay for our education for the future? How am I to believe that I will be able to seek aid from others in the future when people are so willing to take away our opportunities? How am I to believe that I can protect those I love when I can't even be there to support and protect my spopper at the protest?

I am truly disgusted with the decision, and I hope that the regents do not finalize their vote confirming the 32% increase. I hope that thousands of students don't have to drop out of school because they can't afford it, and there's no funding to help them pay for it. I hope that people will see the effects this will have in the long run.

I guess hope is really all we have in times like these...

I wish I had finished my paper earlier. I have not gone to sleep prior to 4 or 5 AM all week. I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I feel like I don't have the energy to make it through a day. I just wish I could pause and nap for a few days and then pick things back up.

Sleep, we shall be reunited soon.

The Fees are Increasing!

I was linked to this article by a friend recently, and was directed toward the comments section. I don't understand how older people can criticize us for wanting help to pay for our education by calling us needy and perfect examples of the "Me" generation, when their reasoning for not wanting us to protest is so THEY don't have to pay for our education.

The whole "me" generation goes both ways.

And for that matter, I wouldn't necessarily call my generation the "me" generation. It's not a generational thing. It's a cultural thing. How many people do you see in Southern California driving BMWs and Lexuses and other luxury vehicles? A LOT. I bet most people who drive those cars buy them mostly because they want to be noticed for their social status. Don't sit around and call us a greedy generation when you're driving around in your $100k car.

Orange County pisses me off, sometimes.

You call this rain?

I can always tell who is from SoCal and who isn't on "rainy" days here in Irvine. SoCal people whip out their umbrellas and throw on their hoods (of their faux fur, big-ass jackets that they don't even need) the second there's even a hint of moisture in the air, while the rest of us walk to class without our hoods, without even considering an umbrella, thinking, "This is not rain; you can barely call this a light mist."

I think it's kind of funny.

Today...

...I was reminded of why I do all the things I do.

Jodaiko, I love you. Staff, I love you. Spoppers, I love you more than you can imagine.


Thanks for reminding me why I'm passionate. I owe you all one.

Sometimes I miss high school...

I'll save the rant about how I hate coming home for later.

Anyway, I was facebook creeping just now, and came across a picture of some of my friends and our AP Literature teacher from our last day of school. My teacher, Mr. Brian Perry, wrote the following comment (I took the liberty of fixing some of the grammar; I believe the post was purposefully written with grammar and spelling errors because of some of the previous posts):

"Thanks for posting the picture--I miss you guys. I just got back from this year's graduation. They're a great class, but I kept thinking of memories from yours. There'll never be another '08."

Mr. Perry was a very influential teacher for me in high school. He was the first teacher I ever had in high school (coincidentally, I was in his first class ever; it was his first year teaching, both in general, and at my high school). I had him again sophomore year for creative writing, and again my senior year for AP literature. But he was more than a teacher for me, as many of the teachers I had in high school were.

But he pushed me to do my best harder than a lot of my other teachers, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Heck. He even wrote me a letter of recommendation for the Buck Scholarship (which, for those of you who don't know, is a full-ride scholarship that pays for the rest of your schooling...like...forever, and I was one of 33 finalists).

But reading that comment made me realize how great a graduating class I had, and how much the teachers respected us. This isn't meant to be a diss toward other classes (except maybe CKM's class of '07 and '09....douchebags), but I really think my graduating class had a certain personality and likability about them that everyone noticed.

So yeah, CKM Class of 2008. Our time at McClatchy may be long over, but we certainly left a lasting impression, and I believe we will do so in the future.

I know I suck at keeping in contact, but I really do miss you....most of you.

Oh...now I get it

Maybe that's why I can't get any work done on my song. My mind is too clouded by my thoughts about home and SPOP and life in general.

There's been a lot on my mind, lately

I apologize if I have seemed distant the past few days. I've been thinking a lot, and not necessarily about any one thing. My mind's been all over the place.

The past few days, I've found myself staying up until 5, 6, or even 7 in the morning. I know I'm a night owl, but I usually call it quits by around 2 or 3. Perhaps it's just the nature of summer, or perhaps my mind has been in overdrive. It sure feels like the latter.

There are several things I've been wanting to blog about, but I keep putting it off. Mostly because I think I don't want to make that post about how wonderful of a blessing this summer has been, even though it will be good for me. For now, I'll just make do with something I just realized.

I was reading Drew's blog and I enjoyed his most recent post. He talked about how he's spent his entire summer in Irvine, as I have, and now he's home for a week. I too will be going home for a week. But unlike Drew, I don't think I'll be able to pick up where things left off.

I've come to the realization that I am slowly growing farther and farther apart from my home. My REAL home....or at least, my first home. I've lived in Sacramento my whole life, and when I was choosing between schools, one of my main reasons for choosing UCI over Cal was distance. I needed to get out and experience life away from home; not life away from home during the week.

Ultimately, I think the 400+ miles in between me and my first home has been good for me. I've learned to be (somewhat) self-sufficient and I feel like I've grown up a lot. Sometimes I'll just think at how much I've matured in my one year at college so far. I feel like I'm at least five years older now than I was when I left for college.

It's weird. When I was little, I was the kid who knew that he would move back to Sacramento after college. Maybe I wouldn't move back in with my parents, but I know I would settle in Sacramento. My kids would go to all the same schools I went to. My kids would know the life I knew growing up. They would play Little League and borrow books from Belle Coolidge Library and get summer treats from Vic's with their friends.

But when I go back to Sacramento, I feel awkward and out of place. I don't hang out with my old friends. I stay inside the house all day. My mom goes to work, and my dad sticks to his home office. And I just sit in the game room watching TV and browsing the net on my laptop. And on the off-chance that I do hang out with my old friends, I feel out of place. I'm no good at keeping in contact with them, and as a result, we've grown far apart. I feel like I don't know them anymore. I feel like they don't know me anymore.

I went to the same elementary school, the same middle school, and the same high school for my entire schooling life. I never transferred schools like other kids have. I've known the same people in my home town for most of my life. But now I feel like a foreigner. It's like I just transferred schools or something. They don't know what I've been doing at college. They weren't there when I tripped down the stairs in the dorms. They weren't there when I tried to do a high kick and landed flat on my back. They weren't there the time I accidentally hit a traffic cone. They weren't there when my car was written on during 8.5. They don't know what SPOP is. I have a completely different life at college, and they weren't there to experience it like they were in middle school and high school. It's weird. It's scary. I feel like I don't belong.

So I guess Irvine is my home now. I don't know if this is where I will stay when I'm done with college. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do after college. I don't know if the people I call my close friends now will still be my close friends after college.

I just know that I'm different now. Sacramento hasn't changed. It's me that's changed. But it's okay, because I think this is where I'm supposed to be in life.

It's like I'm trying to grab the air

But there's nothing to grab. Or...it's constantly eluding me. I promise I'll gather my thoughts soon and let you all know how much this summer meant to me. I PROMISE.

But for now, I'll continue to try to grab something out of thin air and write my damn AGTs...and my song.

Vegas

Yeah....it was fun. I don't think I'll be going back anytime soon, though.

Packing

I hate packing. It's tedious, and it makes me think. Too much. I've noticed that when I have to pack to go somewhere, whether it be for a short period of time, or a long time, I tend to rifle through my closet and look at all the crap I've accumulated over the years. While the case might not be as true since I've moved to Irvine (since I don't have all my stuff here), I still find myself looking through all of my things and thinking about each of them individually.

I remember when I was packing up all my clothes and everything I wanted to take with me to Irvine. Unlike most of my friends, I waited until the night before to pack. It took me HOURS, and I ended up not going to bed until around 6 AM, and we were to leave the house by 10, but that's beside the point. I remember packing my clothes. That wasn't a problem. Deciding what of my wardrobe I wanted to bring was a little difficult, but in looking at the big picture, it wasn't a problem. No. The problem was when I had to look through all my boxes of crap and decide what sentimental things I would bring with me to remind me of home. To remind me that there was somewhere that would ALWAYS want me back, no matter what. I remember going through boxes and boxes of toys, beanie babies, baby clothes, and other things that I have no use for now. I remember playing with my Power Rangers toys and spending a good hour playing the electronic Connect 4 game my cousin gave me before he moved to Colorado. I remember I hated that night. I had to pack a good portion of my life away, only to have to take it and reestablish myself over 400 miles away from home. I literally felt like I was putting my life in boxes.

Fast-forward 9 months. My first year was over, and instead of packing all of my stuff to take back to Sacramento, I was packing all my stuff to move across the street. I wasn't going home for the summer because I had been blessed with the opportunity to serve as a SPOP staffer (but that's a whole different story). I was moving in with a good friend from my early childhood. Once again, I found myself waiting until the last possible moment to pack my things. I think I do that because I want to savor the moments before they're up. I still don't know why I save all my savoring until the end, though. I guess it makes the feeling sweeter. Whatever.

So there I was, the day before we got kicked out of the dorms, and none of my stuff was packed. Well, some of it was. I was at a loss for where to start, so I called Cheryl.

"Hello?"
"Hey...so uh....do you think you could help me pack?"

Thank goodness she did come over, because it stopped me from playing with every single knick-knack and doodad I had laying around that dorm room. Eventually, all my things were packed and moved into the Rabbit Hole. But there was one thing left to do. I had to say goodbye to the dorm. Because even though my time at UCI certainly was not up, my time in Ciudad was up.

The hardest thing was leaving behind my RA. Even though I knew I would see more than enough of Joanne over the summer, I had a hard time holding back the tears. She'd been such an inspiration, such a guiding light. Thinking back on it now, I wasn't saying goodbye to Joanne. That much is obvious. I think I was saying goodbye more to Joanne as an RA. I wouldn't have easy access to that guiding light anymore. It was time for me to hold my own flashlight, so to speak.

But I couldn't stay away for long. After checking out of the dorms, I immediately asked Joanne if she wanted to go hang out at Cha. She agreed, so I walked back to the dorm and instinctively pulled out my lanyard to open the door with my keys.

Oh yeah....those are gone now.

To be funny, I gave Joanne the puppy-dog eyes and scratched at the door, but in all honesty, I already missed Ciudad.

Another three or so months have passed since that day, and I have yet again had to move places. Cheryl left the Rabbit Hole for a teaching job in whatever city her job is in. I can't remember the name, but I know the area. It was weird. Our goodbye wasn't really a goodbye. I gave her a hug and wished her luck in her new job. But I guess that means that I'll definitely see her again. If that was a final goodbye, I would have been crying, and so would she. But that's not the point. This is about packing, remember?

So I only moved half of my stuff to my new place. I couldn't quite bring myself to move everything out, because that meant saying goodbye to the Rabbit Hole. Saying goodbye to Shoshana and Meredith and Laura and Cheryl. Saying goodbye to the place where I literally crashed into the floor after staffing a SPOP. Saying goodbye to the place where I stayed before my own SPOP. Saying goodbye to my first introduction to Irvine. It was hard.

But yesterday, I finally moved out....and in the process, lost a pair of Chuck Taylors (I'm still looking for them, though). I made quick work of packing, though, because I was tired and didn't want to be alone in the apartment for long. I left my key on the counter, wrote a note to Meredith, who is still in town and in charge of all the finishing touches on the apartment, and I left, closing the door behind me. It was a short three months, but that was sort of my second home during the school year, and it was most certainly my first home during the best summer of my life.

And now....I'm stalling for packing for Vegas. It's the last time I'll have with a majority of Royal Year staff. It's possibly the last time I'll have with a majority of ANY SPOP staff (which I am actually perfectly okay with). I'm excited for Vegas...but I will probably have "the last time" playing over and over in the back of my mind.


I've realized that college is all about living out of boxes. It's constantly packing and unpacking, moving to new places and starting new chapters in life. Man...that sucks. But I guess I'll have to get used to it.


And Kendrick, if you read this, I really do want us to have our own SPOP house with some of the other guys from staff. I'd like to live in a steady HOME for at least once in my college career....I'm not sure I can handle packing my life up so often.

Wow

But I guess some things never change, do they?

How's this for perspective?

My best friend from when I was little just added me on Facebook. He's in the military now. Holy shit.

We used to play video games all the time and hang out in his back yard and jump on his trampoline and do all sorts of crazy shit. I don't even remember all the things we used to do.

And now he's in the military. Damn.

Chatting over lunch

I like to eat. I like to talk over lunch. I like making lunch plans and actually following through with them.

There are a lot of people I want to eat lunch with right now. I think my lunch schedule will be pretty packed for a long time to come. Make your reservations now?

so....this is new

I figured I'd give this a try. My first hurdle? Come up with a name. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but we'll see if I can think of anything better later on.