Well I really love writing snail mail.
And even though the person is far away, I have the pleasure of writing them a letter.
It's more personal..
And I love it.
So I don't care if you think it's lame :]
Picture a little kid in a kindergarten room playing with building blocks.
This kid wants to make the tallest tower ever, one block at a time.
The kid was able to get it to be as tall as them, and ever so slowly, they try to add another block to that tower.
A bigger kid strides over, pushing people out of his way.
He gives the little kid a smug look, focusing on the tower.
He waits for the little kid to add that last block, and once that block is in place, the bigger kid smashes the tower down.
Instead of crying, the little kid shrugged and started again from the beginning, with the determination to make it taller than it was.
That’s how I feel with music. I feel like I was pretty damn good until I got to college.
I felt like I was on the top of the list of clarinetists…okay, not the top–but definitely not at the bottom.
And when I was reaching for that spot to be better than I am, I was pushed down.
I was pushed down by a professor, who used harsh words to make me fall down even harder.
I was hurt so much, I didn’t even bother trying to get back up. I held a grudge, I was always angry.
I felt like I wasn’t good enough…that I’ll never be good enough.
He made me feel like dirt. He made me feel like I was in the wrong place. He made me feel that music wasn’t my calling.
After hearing him say that to me, my love for music was vanishing. Maybe I was in the wrong department. Maybe music wasn’t my path as I thought it was.
Then one night, after being mad at that professor for something so stupid, I got a message from a friend.
She told me that a mutual friend of ours said that’s how it goes…he went through the same thing and that same professor asked if that’s what he really wanted to do in life…as though he’s telling him to give up. She told me she knew I could do it.
Just by knowing that she thinks I can do this, made me get up and realize that I can do this. I can try and I will succeed. The professor is telling me I can’t do this because he wants to see how much I care. He wants to know how much effort I can put in just because of all the criticism he tells me. He wants me to prove him wrong, and goddamn it, he’ll get it.
I’m not going to fall into that trap again.
And it took only one friend–my mexican twin–to help me understand that.
When I had to go to SOAR, my biggest fear was being alone during the whole tour.
When I found out all those people attending SOAR were to be separated, I was worried because I didn't know any other Arts major except for Louie.
I'm really glad to have met you. I'm glad I had the courage to randomly approach you, asking you questions.
As you can probably tell, I'm horrible at trying to make new friends. But it worked out on this case.
SOAR was one of the most fun experiences of my life because I met a new friend on my own, instead of meeting them through a mutual friend.I'm also glad I found you on Facebook. Who knows? Maybe our friendship will continue when school starts.
Back in the day, pinky promises were so legit.
We made a promise that we'd be best friends forever.
We would go to Hoover Middle School before going to Poly High School.
We would always keep in touch.
However, things change.
I moved. I told you I would come back one day but I never did.
Now I fear that you've forgotten me...but I still remember you.
Love for always,