And Then There Was One

I am back, with one more of some things left and absolutely nothing left of some other things. That's what taking a mini vacation can do to you. I am back at school with one more week of publication, one more chance to up my grades, one more good afternoon left on my book on neuropsychology, one more CD to add to the collection (Honkin' on Bobo by Aerosmith--may the blues live forever!), and one more night left before starting the week.

I have no more home football games left of college, no more chances to see my team in a bowl game while I'm still a student here, no more time to put off some things and no more answers in my head than when I left, despite having ample time to ponder and muse while at home.

I had plenty of time to think and plenty of things to think about. The first night I go home I always go to my bedroom, leave only the small lamp on, and open up my bookcase, gently easing back the antique door and revealing my stacks. I stand there, semi-slouched, for a long time, picking up some volumes, putting them back, flipping through them, searching for that one line I love, looking at the covers and remembering the last time I read it.

My books are all in the past. They're places I've been before, things I know, things I remember, and still places I go back to, to add to that long history. So, naturally, surrounded by my horse models and antique furniture and framed photo essay pieces, I think about the past.

Mostly I thought about this semester. Retrospectively, I think I did a good job--with everything. With classes, friends, workmates, Topper, reading, grad school things . . . all of it. I would say that if I could change one thing, I would become a little more aggressive. But I'm not worried, because now I know what to do in the future. Always live and learn for the future.

But the one thing that holds me back is this: I never know where to draw the line. I'm not an incredibly aggressive person because I can never stop thinking about other people involved in things. So where do I draw the line between being supportive and just being a pushover? I know you can express your intentions firmly, but when should you just let it go? If you let it go, are you a pushover, placid and ineffective? I don't know. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

I think I've decided the only thing you can be is honest while being careful with your words. I need to remember that yes, I'm always thinking about other people involved, but if I'm involved, I can't let myself fade into the background. I need to be in my proper place, wherever that may be, and sometimes it will be in the background, but I can still fight for myself. If there's one thing I don't lack, it's faith in myself, so I may as well act on it.

Tonight, I'm a rock n' roll star.

(And if I ever do become one, I'm going to become totally aggressive and trash the most expensive hotel room I can afford, just for kicks. That would be a riot. Everyone's invited to this hotel party.)