I am sitting on the airplane crying about leaving California. I was in tears the moment the plane began to move. I am not sure why I feel so connected with the personalities of this summer, but each and every one of them has made a serious impact on me. I am a complete emotional train wreck. Is that to be expected? I think so; I really connected with this group. They became my family and my closest friends for ten weeks.
In the last couple weeks I bonded with the director on some sort of peripheral level. Han is a good woman; she is an artist, and a scholar. Alas, I think that the western ideals of a home and a career have perverted her concept of an artist. She clearly has an ability to produce beauty for all, but has chosen what she is phenomenal at to make her life in. Han is an amazing classicist, probably one of the world’s greatest, and yet all she wants to do is her art, and she chooses her career (something she has proven herself to be exceptional at.)
Such an odd scenario for me to end the summer with. For months I have been debating my role in life. Why do I not just jump aboard the Howard Dean campaign? I am a proven politico. I can work harder and more efficiently than most, and have the connections to make a successful name of myself. Why then do I hate the idea of joining up, and continue to engage in things that I am clearly mediocre at best in. I just find it odd that fate allowed me to see Han situation.
In leaving I was so sad to go, that I can not even write about it for now, even days late I began to feel sad and down on myself. I miss Krissy, Leg, and Liz. I want to gossip with them on my smoking bench in La Loma. I miss Sara, Emmy, and Phil I miss complaining about class, talking about being stoned, and conversation leading to how worthless we feel in the eyes of a greater academia.
I learned an extraordinary amount about myself this summer. I learned what I can and cannot do in a given time frame. I learned that no matter how bad it gets, I never lose my ability to make people smile. I learned that things like Attic Greek are not the end all center of my universe, and that if I am not good at these things it is ok. I regained control over me this summer, for to long the external factors of my life have been controlling my marionette strings. I took the strings back and cut them from the handler. I may be lying in a heap at the bottom of the stage of life, but I have begun thinking on my own for once.
I would never trade the summer of 2003 in Berkeley, CA for anything. If I did not learn Attic Greek (which oddly enough I did learn enough to sit in my apartment in Pittsburgh and read the new Testament,) but I fell in love with education and humanity once again.
Thanks everyone, I owe you more than can ever be recorded and more than can ever be expressed in a millennium. Euxarhstv