In three hours, fifteen minutes, a certain amount of seconds, so on and so forth, I will be 22 years of age. That means I have walked around this planet for 22 years. Most of it has been in California, and recently, walking was shunned for driving, and yeah, that’s that. It also happens to be Cinco de Mayo, which is the national day for drinking; ironic, tomorrow’s the National Day of Prayer. Does that mean asking for forgiveness for sins committed a day prior? Probably. Doesn’t necessary apply to me, because I only had an appletini.
In three hours, two minutes, a certain amount of seconds, so on and so forth, I will be 22 years of age. I will end this year as treasurer, tentatively not to return to salsa. I lost my re-election bid, so I’m taking that as a sign from the stars that I should find something else to do. Losing bugs me; God knows how much I put into what I’ve done, and well, I’d rather not be around the scene at the moment. I started dancing four years ago as a hobby, then it became my identity. What’s an identity, anyway? It’s something that people grow comfortable with, a perception of who they should be, and other shenanigans. For the first few weeks in office, I was pretty much referred to as “salsa dude” around random freshmen who took my course during the summer. Now, my resume reads “former treasurer.” It’s been a blast seeing people grow before me, getting loud, crazy, and all of the weird shit in between. Yes, there was weird shit…like bad drinks, funky dance moves, awkward conversations, and even a restraining order! I’ve never grinned the way I did last Sunday seeing our competition team stomp the other schools. But for now, the shoes and sleeves go on a mantle in my abode. It’s been a fun ride, and I hate for it to end. Unfortunately, I don’t share power all that well, so it’s time to find a new calling.
In two and a half hours…yeah, that’s getting tired. I walked into class yesterday to hear a funny story. Apparently, the department withheld my acceptance letter as a joke. My professor for Story Telling told me that she’s known since April, but couldn’t say anything because of…she didn’t specify. I was jubilant when I responded to her inquiry about my status, then she dropped that bombshell on me. Like, really? Wow, I couldn’t necessarily be angry, but that’s something to consider. However, she did present to me an interesting proposal: she runs the Gateway to Communication Studies course, which all majors and minors have to take. She invited me to be her top lieutenant in the class…POWER! I was honored, flattered, flabbergasted, ecstatic. That is one option on my table. Dr. McCroskey and I already have a rapport, so it’s natural for me to return to my duties as her lackey. The most intriguing option, however, is working with the Forensics and InterACT squads. Since I’m a performance specialist, my interview went in the direction of bolstering the performance of our teams. A quite tall task, and I was weary of accepting the position as a graduate director. However, salsa has spoken, and I’d kill to leave my mark on a rising program.
My thoughts on the year as a whole are mixed. There’s a lot I’ve done that makes me stop back and say “wow, that was purely unintentional.” The classes were daunting, work was flippant, and salsa was a joyride. Along the way, I became a published author in an academic journal I may never read. I temporarily flirted with not being single after pursuing the wrong girl, and for all I know, that wrong may be righted. My niece is now a star student at school due to my pushing. I saw WrestleMania in person. I lead in the face of adversity, social or health for that matter. Still, I grade myself with a steep curve, so this year will go down as a failure for the sole purpose of flirting with success but not sealing the deal. Hell, coming back here to grad school hasn’t started off with the feel I wanted. In two hours or so, I’ll pop a bottle of cider to toast something that may or may not be appropriate for human ears. With great aplomb, I close this year…cordially yours.