The following is a verbatim blog post that I wrote when I was eighteen years old in the winter of 2010, having just gotten home for winter break during freshman year at college. It’s sincerity is nice, but whiny. I hope I’ve become better since then. This was a “rock bottom” moment – just coming home from a whirlwind semester at an exciting college and feeling ungrateful. I cringe.
It’s like self-doubt is in the air here. I woke up in my room this morning and literally felt my self-worth and creative drive plummet almost instantly. Boston has inspired me and changed me so much. I didn’t realize just how limited I felt growing up here and it’s interesting to me that I feel that all over again, even though I know I’m only going to be here for a few weeks and then be right back at BU.
It’s about 68 degrees here and people are complaining. They wear heavy coats with hoods and comment on how “crazy” it is that they can see their breath. They turn the heat on claiming that they need it, convincing themselves that it’s worth the horrible stench that slowly drifts around the house due to the limited use of that part of the utility system turning on for the first time in 11 months and blowing old heated-up dust into our faces.
This is winter in Florida. Last year, during the 2009-10 winter season, our winter was deemed (by people here, of course, flailing to have some exciting label for a part of their existence instead of going out and creating one for themselves) the “Florida Freeze of 2010″. There’s even a Facebook page about it. The lowest it got was 35 degrees Farenheit. This was all people talked about.
Frankly, today was depressing. I’m feeling all of the terrible things that almost stopped me from doing anything interesting with my life all over again. And I’ve only ever felt these things here. I’ve felt so much encouragement and wild confidence in Boston. The fact that I graduated high school with Honors, AP, and an International Baccalaureate diploma, was accepted to college and went out of state, went to BU, tried out for improv, did it, and am excited about life are all things that were so close to not happening. I cannot stress this enough. I’ve always been plagued by worry and self-doubt and I almost let it destroy all of these things for me. I almost said “no” to a lot of things. Many people in my life told me to say “no”: “no” to go to BU and ”no” to even going out of state, to name a couple big ones. This remarkable consistency in encouraged responses almost led me to start living this way. I almost said “no” to going to the audition for Sons of Liberty. If I hadn’t gone, I would not have been accepted into the group and therefore learned not only the number one rule of improv but the number one rule of life in my opinion: SAY YES.
So, to put it bluntly, I’m angry at Florida right now. Yes. I am feeling an emotion towards a physical layer of dirt that happens to be situated in a specific location and that has houses and people living on it. A state.
But here’s what’s interesting: people here are happy. Very happy. It’s a 30-second walk to the beach from my front door. You can walk around town barefoot and no one bats an eye. We get to see every shuttle and rocket launch in person. We can kayak and see manatees and dolphins on any given morning. So, should I be happy here? Why do I have so many bad feelings associated with being here? Maybe I shouldn’t blame the bad things in my life on this physical place. Maybe I have things to work on. I really don’t know.