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Falling Ice

Posted by Aaron - 11/04/06 at 05:04:00 am

I happen to turn my head at just the right time.

It is 1:30 am on a Tuesday and my nightcap happens to be Kettle One Vodka on the rocks with an olive. It sits to my left, on a coaster, normally out of view as my eyes focus on the flat panel screen directly in front of me. I had almost forgotten about the drink itself, and then I looked just to my left and saw the third ice cube fall from atop the other two cubes and slide neatly along side the others. All three ice cubes sat upright at the base of the glass. Perfect harmony in the glass had been reached and I was lucky enough to see it happen.

This must happen to everyone because it has happened to me more than once. They are those moments when we get to catch the natural world when it didn’t think we were looking, when the small changes that occur constantly become part of our experience as well. It happens all the time, we are just not always lucky enough to see it. It is kind of like catching nature naked.

Thanks for Being…

Posted by Aaron - 10/04/06 at 04:04:00 am

I walked out of the shower, into my room and saw it sitting on my desk, a fifth of Jack with a note. “Thanks for Being…” it said. Being, just freakin’ being and someone appreciates it.

I meet with a group of seniors every Sunday night to talk about life. We call it wisdom or something. Many of us are struggling with identity. Who am I once I’m not a Kalamazoo College student, once I’m not a Biology or Political Science or English or anything major? For the past 16 years, it has been easy to be something. I was a first grader, then second grader, then third grader and so on. I was a basketball player, a marching band member, a writer for the school newspaper, a Political Science honors student. I was a 4.0 kid (stress the was, now i am nothing special). Traditional education gives us many opportunities to be things, to do stuff.

But in 8 weeks or so I am leaving academia for awhile and who am I? Yes, a Kalamazoo College graduate, but I am weary of that. I was weary of that in high school. I wrestled with this same question as I prepared to graduate high school. In my speech to my graduating class, I said:
“Tonight as we leave this church with our diplomas in hand, we will no longer be students of Forest Hills
Northern. The one thing we have shared for fourteen years, the one binding thread will be broken. True, we
will all be graduates of Forest Hills Northern, and that in itself is a very important life long title, but it is
counter productive to define yourself by terms of the past. It merely stalls the future. What lies in the past
is memory and memories should shape us, not define us. Defining one’s self is an active process, not a
passive one. And while we have all made great steps in the journey of finding ourselves, tonight I must pose
this question: Do we really know who we are? Have you found your true self?“

But it is counter productive to define yourself by terms of the past. I thought college would answer those questions for me. I thought college was all about finding you true self. I thought I was going to leave here with a clue.

For four years, I forgot about that question. For four years I lived. I wasn’t always myself; I shifted in and out of roles, lied to myself and deceived others. I am not proud of this but it isinevitablee. If your looking for your way, it’s probably because you got lost back there somewhere. But there are those moments, and there are so many of them, when I am really am just me. It’s Tuesday nights in the Index room. I’m not playing journalist; I am one. It’s midnight on a Sunday. I’m not pretending to be Sharat’s friend as we figure out which character from the OC we are (I’m Marissa by the way, gross); I am his friend.

I once asked Ashley Franks, “What if everything you thought you knew about me turned out to be a lie?” She said that would never happen. I guess she knew who I was and probably has a good idea of who I am. But I’m still struggling with that question, after four years.

Am I? Do I even want to answer that question? Think about it. What if you knew from the day you were born who you were? Life had no surprises, no chance, no risk. Yeah, that would suck. But for four years I wasn’t trying to answer the question, I was the question? It is only when we come to the end of something that we start questioning our identity. We quickly forget who we were during and freak out about who we will be. I am hope I am me when this is all over.

And I know one person who appreciates it. He gave me a fifth of Jack.

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