Superhero

Ever since I could remember, I have always thought of my dad as a superhero. To this day, if I ever need something fixed, he puts it back together. Whether it is a pair of sunglasses, furniture, or a broken heart.

My father is a builder, as well as book lover. It amazes me how he spends so much time in the toolshed, making something out of nothing. I remember when I was a child; I would just watch him for hours on end—and if I ever got bored, I would go through his book collection.

One day in particular, when I was sifting through his library and came across Walter Benjamin’s “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, I asked him if he envisions his art before it is built.

He laughed, pointing out a half finished piece of his wood art, and replied, “I was making something. It wasn't always an important something, sometimes just the piece of metal that holds something bigger in place.”

These words have stuck with me throughout my life. When times get particularly hard, I think about my father, and how he has the ability to create something beautiful out of the most unusual of things.

My father is not only an inspiration, but he is without a doubt my superhero. 

How far would you go?

It was freshman year of high school and I would have done just about anything to get the senior boy in my class to notice me.

He was the most popular kid in school-- with a gang of boys following him around at all times-- as if he were The Great Victor Kelly from Resurrection Man.

Every day I would stare at him in fourth period, dozing off into a
                            
                                d
                                  a
                                    y
                                      d
                                         r
                                           e
                                             a
                                               m.

A few weeks later, my girlfriends and I get invited to an "upperclassmen" party. We were so excited to finally get a chance to meet the cool, older kids.

My friends were nervously chatting about what clothes they were going to wear; how they should style their hair for the night.

I could barely hear them over my thoughts. I knew that this was it. I was going to finally talk to him tonight.


F  l   a   s   h     f o r w a r d :

 We just walked into the party. It reeks of booze and poor judgement.

I let my friends trail off, as I had my own goal for the night. I finally find him near the most insane amount of alcohol I have ever laid eyes on.

He smiles and says, "Hi. You're in my math class. Do you want a shot?"

MyMindWasRacing. MyHeadWasSpinning.

I hadn't even begun drinking yet. 



F  l   a   s   h     f o r w a r d : 

The room is unsteady. Like water. F l o w i n g. You notice everything is humorous, you laugh and laugh at at every other word spoken to you. You cant Walk. You are Stumbling. Everywhere. No turning back now. You are too far gone.

The last thing I remember is blowing chunks on his new pair of Converse.



 [ I switched out of my fourth period class that Monday. ]

It's the journey

“I want my world to be filled with travels, destinations are not what I care about, it's the characters in the narrative of my life and the places that I visit that interest me because they in turn decide what kind of person I am going to become.”

 

 

In 2009, I had the fortunate opportunity to go on the school trip of a lifetime.  

In just 

two

short

weeks,

we would visit Italy, France, and Holland.

Just as any seventeen year old would be, I was absolutely psyched. 
However, I was still in high school, and it was an intimidating 
thought that out of the thirty people going on the trip, I only
knew three or four. Most of the students were seniors, a 
year older than I was at the time, and I couldn’t help
but   w  o  n  d  e  r   if they would like me.

Boarding the plane, I was equally as excited as I was nervous.

Within the first two days, my mind was at ease.
Everyone got along well, and I began
 to make some awesome friends.

Over the next two weeks,
I would walk around with different
people each day. We were all so comfortable  
around each other. We would sing on the subways, 
take goofy pictures together, make up funny dance routines, 
and talk for hours on end.

I honestly had no idea
how much fun I could have 
with people that were ultimately  
strangers to me a week prior.

Our last stop was France, 
and although it was the one place
I was the most excited about the entire time-- 
once we got there I couldn’t help but get choked up.

The countries, historical landmarks, and museums were all 
so amazing, but I realized it was never about that. I had truly 
bonded with these people, and I was fearful for it all to come to an end.

Once we were back in school, my fears were put to rest yet again. 

Although the trip could only be replayed 
in the form of memories and photos;
our journey together was 
something that could
never be erased.