It is iconic in many ways that I begin this semester like this. Aside from my parents, and no one else, most people have failed on me on things that are important to me. Even … if sometimes I emphasize it. I was clear to my roommate how I wanted to make sure when I moved back in on Sunday his girlfriend was not there for just a few hours. And as all promises are made, some are kept, and others are shattered. Perhaps this is my fault, to some extent, to be blind and trusting, but nevertheless the rage that I kept hidden was an encompassing black hole of emotion.
As I moved back into the dorm today, I noticed a lot of things that were off. I noticed a lot of things that I’ve messed up on. I see a lot of notebooks, manuals, and textbooks left unread. Arabic books left unwritten. Promises to myself left undone. As the last semester of my University, I want to be upbeat. I shouldn’t be caught up in minor stupid things, but dear diary … I am not like that.
In many ways, I begin to remotely understand my Dad. The apple does not fall far from the tree. As a saying goes to a certain type of dream universities (these students are the Ivy Leagues that are lazy, notably … Tufts, BC and Georgetown). My dad is perhaps such a sign of that. He dreams a lot, as do I, but when the time gets tough, and when things get difficult … he bails. I try to motivate myself with simple things, stupid unnecessary quotes like “Do not give up; the beginning is always the hardest,” but it’s a hell lot harder said than done. As my breaks end, I walk back in to see things left incomplete. The vacation remains over, the fog of the dream is no longer a fog … and it remains clear the enormity and daunting task of meeting my motivations and aspirations to do something with my life.
