Passionate

I'm looking back at my past blogs and they are generally dismal and sarcastic and today I realized something sort of wonderful in the people that I know and I figured I should let it brighten up my blog. So here it is.

So people generally regard the "millennial" generation, of which I am a part of, as one of dulled emotion, spite and unwillingness to admit we enjoy anything. Which is, for the most part, more true than we care to admit. But today I realized that within all of us is something that lights our fire, something that we could talk about for hours and never get bored, something that we are passionate about.

This began this morning in Wind Ensemble rehearsal. Last week we hit an all-time low in moral and musical camaraderie (as in, the lowest it has been in my four years of high school) and, determined to prove ourselves again, we had an excellent rehearsal, leaving all of us with our finale piece stuck in our heads. Later in the day, our drum major and first chair tuba player was humming it in math class and because I had heard it six thousand times in my own head, I turned around and said, with fake menace, "Don't you even dare." But after that he went on about how he loved the negative space in one of the movements and the instrumental layering in another. Then I jumped in and commented on my favorite part of the piece, the smooth and mysterious clarinet soli that begins the piece and without even knowing it, we had talked for 10-15 minutes about musical theory. It's no secret that he's a "music guy" but to look at him while he talks about the thing he loves is a rare and beautiful sight, especially among my emotionally dimmed classmates.

Then I started thinking about all the people in my life who I've had the privilege of listening to talking about their passion. I tease him but when I listen to my brother ranting about a certain movie's flaws or praises it is blatantly obvious that this kid loves what he is talking about. His eyes light up when he predicts, with 90% accuracy, the nominees and winners of the Golden Globes and the Oscars. I'm not joking about that, he's scary good at that. My mother, who just got what I think is her dream job, working part-time as the head of the pharmacy at our local homeless shelter. She comes home and talks about how much she takes pride in her work and how, even though there would be challenges, she knew she was doing what she had always wanted to do and could see the impact she was making on the world. And then there's my friends, who, every so often, get on the topic of ethics or philosophy or television or theatre and simply cannot stop talking because they are so intrigued or in love with the subject.

Then after all that musing, I ask myself: "When do people see me talk about my passions? When do the lights of intrigue glow in my eyes?" I'm sure there is something, but it's either unexpected or slightly less tangible than music or pharmacy and I just can't put my finger on it. Which is why I hope the next few years of my life will be the best because it is my best chance for realizing what my passion is and finding a way to live and talk about that passion for the rest of my life.

Well, there ya go. A happy, hopeful blog post. That's a welcome change.
So my challenge to you is this: Listen to the people in your life, look for that spark in their eyes, find the fire within yourself and

Have a beautiful January 27th
(this went up on the 26th but it's almost midnight so it's not really worth it),
Colleen

The Waiting Game

24 Days until my 18th Birthday
25 Days until my Class Trip to New York
55 Days until my Spring Break Vacation to Costa Rica
74 Days until my Last College Decision Date
118 Days until all of my Exams are Over
133 Days until I Graduate From High School

Ladies and Gentlemen,
I have entered the waiting room of my young adult life. Some view it as the home stretch, the final countdown, and so on and so forth but for me it is the torturous waiting room.
You are so nervous for what is about to happen that you are only able to sit paralyzed reading a Better Home and Gardens magazine from 2011. (Which is now four years ago. Holy banana sausages.) Interest in anything is gone because I realize that in less than 150 days, it won't matter anymore. Last page. Shut the book. Move on to the next one.
My life is merely numbers. Remembered dates. Deadlines. It is no longer dictated by the events that make life special but by the X's on the calendar marking the final tasks to finish this episode of Colleen's Crazy Life much like the etched tally marks on a prisoner's cell wall.
It is strange to think that a year ago, I was terrified of moving on with my life. I didn't want the unknown, I wanted the same old. But now I am literally counting down the days until I am an adult (also, How on Earth did that happen?) and done with my twelve year sentence to government mandated education. Amazing how one college acceptance letter and a frozen Grade Point Average can flip your whole worldview around. Huh.
Well, all I can ask is that days 1-133 are their own kind of special. Even if they're the hellish, boredom type of special. Which may not be exciting, but are certainly memorable.

Have an extraordinary January 17th,
Colleen