PAC 14

On Thursday, April 9, I will be recording a segment for PAC 14 television.  As I understand it, Phil Tilghman will be interviewing me about Crossings, the Sophie Kerr prize, and Washington College.  (Phil is a fellow WC alum!)

Something Old

Searching through an old trunk, I found this. It's an Endgame essay that I wrote in December 2000 for The Collegian - a monthly magazine at Washington College. I was 21 when I wrote this to a friend of mine who was the editor of The Collegian. We had been using the Endgame essay at the back of the magazine to banter about life and youthful philosophies.

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I am no longer reproachful of the days I spent lost or too hopeful for my own good and I refuse to apologize for the moments when I triumphed and the seconds I spent trembling in naivete. I made my choices and they led me to this place - the end. But we've all wandered our own broken and homeless roads and found our own conclusions: these are my conclusions, dear friend, these are mine.

You said I know I am brave because I've gone bungie-jumping and you said I know I am lovely because someone once told me so. These must be easy assumptions for someone who writes to tell the world his biggest fear is chocolate chip cookies and that his life is centered on what he cannot figure out; mostly himself. But what you fail to recognize about me are the shades of gray that lie between your simple white and black mathematics.

Standing in the middle of the sky with a rope to my back, I was far from brave - pins and needles ravaged my scalp and neck. There was a brief moment of hesitation and then weightlessness. Falling back to earth was falling into an understanding with a more experienced version of myself. I wanted to jump because I could not imagine the fall; I jumped because I could never describe the landscape with the horizon at my feet. Bravery is not living life without fear, but living life to challenge those fears which we dare not rouse.

I think you are wrong, however, loveliness is not in my gray eyes, nor is it in my cheeks that flush when I cannot do the math in marketing class. I have my own imperfections that peek though my skin in the form of scars, freckles, and sometimes wart. But these are my eyes, my scars, and my distinctions to marvel at and love. (I remember the first time someone told me I was pretty - I threw a rock at his forehead and was sent to the principal's office. Young girls are taught to be beautiful but not to admit it out loud.)

But in the end, I am proud of us. You tell all your fears and I, in turn, announce my shortcomings. Sharing secrets with the world is a precarious undertaking. No one wants to go back to 5th grade gym class and be laughed at because you stole the ball from your opponent only to run the wrong way down the field. Being picked last for the game is the same as being disregarded in the public eye. Biting our lips, we retire to the comfort of our pens and the twilight.

As writers, we take this risk with every word we write, every story, poem, and essay we create and publish for a stranger's eyes. You and I are brave because we understand the risk and take it anyway. This is strikingly similar to bungie-jumping: we tie our words to our fleshy spines and dangle over the edge for a moment and free fall into ourselves. Writers are not brave because we write without fear. Writers are brave because we expose our soft underbellies to the harsh scrutiny of critics who may laugh at us once we get down the field.

So, my friend, if you are nervous about your future, let it go. If you are anxious because you don't know who will greet your worst times with a reassuring smile, let it go. If you are confused about how your happy ending will be scripted, let it go.

Can you hear me? I said let it go because we are brave and we are five words beyond lovely. Strict mathematics of white and black are for elementary school politics; now, we face those shades of gray where it is up to us as individuals to decide where we fit, what we believe, and who we want to be.

My shades of gray: I have fears and I am imperfect. I am in love with my childhood sweetheart and I am searching for a career that doesn't involve too many numbers for me to blush over. But I've never been so happy and so unaware of what lies ahead and therein lies the loveliness of my life.

I will tell you: there is no reason to be afraid of the things you cannot see in your future. Were you ever afraid of Christmas presents wrapped in solid red and green paper or the friends you would meet down your forking road? But you will say you are afraid of your parents passing or your unexpected failures and your unforeseen ulcer. Then I will tell you this: there is no reason to be afraid of life on a forking road because at the very least, you're still walking. The journey is the happy ending.