Life isn't always one big Line of succession

   One thing I learned and highly emphasize, is the fact that, If you have legs, Take the stairs. The elevator is a metaphor for life and how it will not wait for you. It will move on and because you were too lazy to take the stairs, you will probably wait until it comes back down. Don't wait around to take chances, do what you want to do.
 
   College is what you make it, take risks but stay focused. I'm not much of a religious person, except for the fact that I am studying into Buddhism, but titles are kind of a big thing. They're a big thing to me because you have worked for them, it was not a birth right nor handed to you (setting aside the whole King, Queen, Prince, Princess, heir to the throne crap). Especially as a manager, principal, dean--or in this case a Reverend. My College (yes, it's my college! huzzah! I have claimed it!) is Catholic, so there are a great amount of nuns and reverends. Although (to reiterate), I am not up to par with religion, I have respect and compassion for those that are religious and have religious titles. Today, I called a Reverend 'Professor' three times and the only thing he did was smile and tend to my needs (signing the slip that would grant me my music minor). Of course, I was unaware that he was a Priest/Reverend (are they the same thing?) but I still would have liked for him to correct me because titles are important (err--after today's lesson not so much anymore).
   I then remembered a documentary I saw on Netflix titled, "Ten Questions for the Dalai Lama" by film maker Rick Ray. This guy could only ask the Dalai Lama ten questions and they had to be legit or worthy of his answers, and within the documentary it was displayed that the Dalai Lama doesn't care about his title, he doesn't care to be worshiped, and he sees himself as a normal human being. The Dalai Lama respects those that choose to worship him and have festivals in his honor but it isn't imperative to do so. Back to the Reverend situation: When I became aware of his title, about 10 minutes after I left his presence, I wondered why he hadn't corrected me. I figured out that maybe titles aren't everything, they don't make you who you are they just identify how you're known to society/the world and based upon your title, people have a general sense of your skills and what you're capable of (titles aren't the real you). The Reverend had (A LOT) of patience with me. He understood that he knew what his title was and it didn't matter if no one else (especially a clueless stranger) knew. When you know who you are, it's okay if no one else does. Life is about patience, it goes by so fast its essential that you get out and make things happen. If you just sit back and enjoy the ride, when the time comes to get off, it'll be a familiarity so much so that you'll want to get right back on.

   On another note (not really) I picked a tiny--and very adorable-- flower and I wondered if I did the right thing. I could have just taken a mental picture of it and went on about my day. It made me think back to the balloons I let go, how nothing is permanent, and the certainty that humans have this intense need to possess. We are extremely brisk at calling things or people "Mine" when, in fact, we can not own one another and we shouldn't hold such intangible items so near and dear to our hearts. The appearance of a poor man's grave may be just a patch of dirt and a rich man's may be decorated with the finest of jewels but, when the holes were dug, they were both six feet deep.

Chocolate isn't as good when you buy it for yourself.

   Recently, I unintentionally let a few balloons go. The instant they slipped from my grasp I panicked but remembered, that nothing was permanent. If I had taken the balloons home they would've deflated someday, maybe it was best that I didn't get the chance to. Although, I've never been a religious person, I believe that most things happen for a reason. It is now two days after my graduation/going away party and I am a complete wreck. 

1. The party made me realize that I am, and probably will always be, a huge dork--who has a Darth Vader candle laying around their house? Why aren't cute candles a thing in pop culture yet? 'Risk' The Lord of The Rings edition was pulled out and I felt like going Gollum on everyone. 

2. It is not always a great idea to 'taste the rainbow' 

3. Chocolate isn't as good when you buy it for yourself. 

My precious.

It did not taste like skittles or sunshine.

I bought myself some chocolate after the party, as a treat from me to me. (because I am, in fact, awesome) I can't explain how I felt, but I cried and slept. In a world so crowded and way over populated, it's amazing how a person can feel so alone.

I leave for fall semester this Thursday and my thoughts on the situation are non-existent. It's scary. I'm scared. I haven't even started packing, it's overwhelming.

On a brighter note: I made a bucket list, along with a jar labeled wanderlust. I'll make a post about it soon. Maybe.

I was clearly not destined to be a mathematician.

   Eighteen used to seem so far away at age eight. I always wondered what kind of person I would be, and what kind of goals I would achieve. I'd have to say, I'm pretty damn amazed. I don't think we give ourselves enough credit, we are constantly waging wars within ourselves and fighting battles that strive for perfection.

   Lately, I have had an immense desire to volunteer and get involved with my community and I think it is because I am beginning to lose hope for it. Being away for a while helped me miss the trash-scented air, the garbage filled streets, the broken swing sets and the lingering people. It made me realize that New Brunswick is a hole--not a shit-hole but a hole. Those that leave, never really leave in the first place.

 I had the opportunity to volunteer at the 4-H County Fair, and it was an amazing experience. 

It ended with a random candid of a very random (adorable) family:

Candy Land and a fantasy world.

   From being horrible at calculating change to give back to customers, to taking a 40 minute Rita's break I started to question myself in regards to my purpose here on Mother Earth (because, even though AP Calculus consumed most of my senior year of high school, I was clearly not destined to be a mathematician). Leaving New Brunswick and coming back after so long (even if it was only 5 weeks) gave me a sense of stability. I felt as though, I had been reunited with my soulmate. How could a community, not very loving, make me feel so whole? It was weird and scifi-ish. I went downtown to explore my city I had missed so much and I had an epiphany--This is a fantasy world.

It's hard for me to express New Brunswick as a whole (or a hole without sounding unappreciative), so I wrote a poem and I read it to an audience of Georgian Court University at the EOF's mandatory talent show. Trembling to my core, I nervously said:

The Unflawed Blackhole Knows What It Has Done (An Ode to New Brunswick, NJ):

By: Shaylah Jackson

There's a place in the sea where the creatures that roam never sleep, where the food is so nonexistent you can never eat. You fall right instead of down, there is noise but not a sound. All who enter understand that once you're in, it is your land. For there is no exit nor futuristic Great Escape, we are the broken ones, the misguided and self afflicted. This is the broken city, the daily departed often left spinning...Trying to find a place to go, not acknowledging the fact that there is no hope...No aspiration. Education, some...few live life on the run. Redundant journeys fill the planes, attentive yet sustained. For this place...It has no name...those who leave, never quite left in the first place.

Okay, maybe I over exaggerated a teensy bit, I have to admit I kind of sound like an emo adolescent in all her glory, but most of what I jotted down in the poem was accurate. I couldn't explain this to the crowd, I didn't even force out the meaning. All I wanted was for them to hear it, hear me, hear New Brunswick, and the ones that graduated 10 years ago but ended up coming back because they wanted a safe haven. It's ironic because in a sense, New Brunswick is a safe haven for those that grew up here, even though the streets are bloodstained and to mourn is a common emotion. They weren't from New Brunswick so I knew they wouldn't understand. 

As long as the skies are blue.

   Even though my purpose isn't to be the next Einstein or Galileo, and I am stuck between Mahayana and Zen Buddhism, I know I have one.