First of all, congratulations to Michael Phelps.
I don’t know what it must feel like to have such a mountaintop moment. I’ve never experienced such sheer euphoria in my life. Those normal moments such as graduations usually feel as such, but both my high school and college graduations were shattered by extenuating circumstances, both of which were out of my control and ultimately prevented me from experiencing that feeling.
But, Michael Phelps set out with the goal of winning eight gold medals in the eight of his races. Well, no one is making the argument that he’s “the greatest” but clearly as far as this 29th Olympiad is concerned, he totally dominated.
Even he himself said that he’s human, and one of the races he won by only .01 of a second, and that was even called into question, but the touchpad still upheld the decision that he was in fact the gold medal winner. Now, as I sip on my Haterade, I really wonder just how does this one, clearly gifted kid, waltz in here and not just win gold, but beat world records. And not just break them, but shatter them! I mean he won one of his races by FOUR seconds.
Nonetheless, what many thought was an impossibility, became a possibility for him.
So what’s next?
I’m kind of at that point right now in my life. I usually get like this when I’m home in Chicago because a good chunk of my friends who are here have been working for the past year or so, depending on their graduation. And my friends who went to grad school have now finished up and are beginning their careers—and where is my ass? Looking at another damn two years, minimum, of schooling left.
Tonight as me and Uppity Friend got to hang out and we discussed all things race and politics from Kwame Kilpatrick and Detroit city woes to the Whoopi Goldberg incident on “The View” this summer with Miz Liz. I also got to listen to her and the precarious position she finds herself as a single black woman up against what she believes to be “interesting prospects” as far as black men are concerned. And I had to admit to her that I really wasn’t one to talk about available black women and men namely because I really don’t do the mixers or the [grown and sexy] club scene.
And her response was, “Well yeah, you’re in school. You’re used to seeing the same people all the time.”
I’ve had these thoughts before, but for some reason, today, combined with the fact that I don’t have housing when I get back to school (thanks to the effing inept administration of HBCU’s), I’m really inclined to just drop out, and actually put my undergrad degree to use–accounting. I’m quite sure that up here in Chicago I could hop on Craig’s List and find an entry level accounting job and make a nice career out of this. Ya know, live here at my parents house, save up and move out when I get enough and call it a day.
Honestly, there’s something appealing to have my own apartment, perhaps get a condo and work an 8 to 4 or 9 to 5 and go out on the weekends and then do it again the next week. I mean, I have two of my friends who are my age who are paying mortgages already at the age of 24!! Now, granted they inheireted these houses under very unfortunate circumstances of the death of parents, but if my parents up and tragically died, I’m no way remotely in a position to pay the utilities and assessments of this condo (my parents paid this place off a coupla years back). I mean, I’d have to start paying off school loans in addition to all of that.
I mean, couldn’t you see me as the perfect YBP walking up and down the street hopping on the #6 Jeffrey Jackson Park Express to get back to the South Side?
I mean, right now, being broke for the next two or so years and banking on getting accepted into a doctoral program, which is dependent upon whether or not I can find a church that will let me practice ministry (and we all know how sheisty churches really are and just how much they work off the good ol’ BOY network and I clearly don’t know anyone) just seems like a load of crap right now.
Perhaps, I’m really more worried about what happens if all that I said concerning me getting a Ph.D. actually comes true–then what? I mean, Uppity Negress is having her own concerns surrounding her terminal degree as we speak, and then to add mine is a bit much. But all of that seems unreachable to me, and then I’m worried what will happen if I reach it.
Doing this blog has opened my eyes to the level of awareness as to which we as citizens of this country operate. It’s not that high, and here I am wondering “What can I do?” Is blogging enough? Should I be doing more?
So, pray with me as I make my decision, and pray for me so that I make the right decision. I may be backin Atlanta in school, but don’t be shocked if you see me doing taxes in Chicago next year.
Keep it uppity and keep it truthfully radical, JLL
2 thoughts on “What Happens When the Unreachable is Reached?”
No one ever tells you that almost EVERY mountaintop experience carries uncertainty as to what will come next. I guess when we reach the unreachable, we find a new unreachable. As for blogging, I think it makes a huge difference. Since mass media has been corporate-ized, it’s managed to be both unbearably bland and ridiculously hysterical. Bloggers (well, at least the quality ones) now play the role of the muckrakers, the cry in the desert.
I hope that you stay in school and finish up. I think we all get at that point. There’s a reason why you’re in school; so finish it, get through with that part of your life, and then start a new chapter after you finish. It’ll pay off for you; might not look like it. And, you are saying your peace through this blog. Want to do something else. Get involved with some sort of outreach in a church. You’re in Chicago; why not call up Phillip Jackson and his Black Star Project if you want to help. But, finish school. Get it over with, so that it won’t be an incomplete where your life is concerned.