Commencement

It's funny how all of a sudden you can feel so overwhelmingly lonely. It's funny how it's been nearly two years since I've moved away from that little spot nearly hidden away from the rest of the world, nestled between the redwoods and the sea, and yet if I spend just a little too long remembering it, I get this pain in my chest. Humboldt State University was one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and like many of the best things in life, its effects on me were both devastating and permanent.

I chose to attend Humboldt on an impulse. I chose it because it was as far away from home as my parents were willing to send me. It was the only college I applied to because I knew I would get in. And I did. It was immature of me to go. It was irresponsible of me to go. And yet there was nothing I was ever more sure of in my life.

Looking back, I should have fought harder to stay there. I've had it easy growing up, and it was easy to rely on my parent's generosity. It was selfish of me to get angry when the budget got tight. I should have stayed and made my own way, proved that I could be independent and make something of myself on my own. Maybe it's because I didn't think that I could though, or maybe it was because it was easier to make myself a victim. At the time I really felt like I didn't have choice. I know better now, that there is always a choice. But, regardless, I moved back to the sun and the smog of Southern California. I left the trees and the rain, and the people that hid in them.

I say hid because you don't go to a place like Humboldt unless you are trying to get away from some place else. I didn't realize it then, but that's the truth of the matter. It's easy to hide yourself there. Things move slower there. They are quieter there. You can be exactly who you want, as strange or as dirty or opinionated or unopinionated as you please. No one minds much of anything up there. It was the most welcoming place I'd ever seen. It was a safe place. It was easy to stop for a visit and stay forever. It's the kind of place that traps you like that, and you don't even mind.

I'm graduating now from California State University Los Angeles, I'll have my Bachelors and I'm struggling to find excitement in the accomplishment. Nearly two years at this school and I've yet to form a single sentimental attachment to it. The closer I come to the end, the more I look back to where I started and the stranger it all seems to me.

I went back to Humboldt last year for a visit, and it all seemed changed. I realized though that it hadn't. It was me. I couldn't fit back into the place that I'd left. I didn't fit anymore. Maybe that's what makes me so lonely when I think about it. I sit and reminisce about the people I love there, about the rain and the trees, and I realize I can never really go back. Not really, because what I miss is a time, and that time is over.

I don't regret anything. I think it was important for me to leave when I did, as much as it broke my heart. It's easy to get stuck anywhere if you stay for too long, and good things came of my leaving. Knowing that though, doesn't make you miss it any less. I think that the older we get, the more we lose pieces of ourselves along the way. We scatter them across the places and the people that we meet. We make room for new pieces, but we never fit back together quite the same.

Lost Dogs

A little over a year ago, maybe more, I can't remember exactly, but for narration's sake we'll say a year...

A little over a year ago my town became plastered over and completely covered up by Lost Dog posters for a little Chihuahua named Minnie. On every available lamp post, stoplight, bulletin board and penny saver was the same picture of little Minnie. She had tan fur, big eyes, and lay submissively on her back, paws resting gently on her chest, as if patiently awaiting a nice belly rub. There was a $5,000 dollar reward for Minnie's safe return. Clearly, she was very, very missed.

 Being an avid dog lover, and possessing what some might call an unnatural attachment to my own dog, I thought nothing strange in the behavior of Minnie's family. However, when I was driving down the road and saw a sign-waver standing on a street corner shaking a poster board with Minnie's missing ad printed on it, I was a little overwhelmed, and even more so when on another day I saw a truck driving down the street with a billboard of Minnie's lost poster sitting in the back of it. Maybe, just maybe I thought, this was a bit much. Time went on, and still the sign shaker could be found standing on that street corner, a little less enthusiastic every day. The lost dog signs on the lamp posts and stop lights had all faded or been weathered away completely, and all the community bulletin boards had taken Minnie down completely.


I tend to be a person of faith. Not strictly or souly in a religious sense, just in a hopeful, optimistic sort of way. At first I was hopeful that Minnie would find her family again. She had to be the most recognizable Chihuahua Simi Valley had ever seen. But she was a little dog, lost in a town filled with speeding cars and lots of people, smack in the middle of the hills which are home to hungry hungry coyotes and the occasional mountain lion. As time went on, my faith in Minnie's safe return extinguished quite entirely. Her family must have lost faith too, or so it seemed, because one day, the sign-waver wasn't on that street corner anymore.



And a year or so passed.


And then, for whatever reason, he was back. The sign-waver on the corner. Standing there with Minnie's picture and offering the $5,000 reward for her safe return. And rather than being happy that they, unlike myself, still had the impossible notion of hope, I became furious. I thought them stupid, and insane, and I'm ashamed to admit, a bit pathetic. Alone in my car I yelled out loud, "Give it up! Minnie is Dead. And if by some miracle some other family has her, and she's not dead, they sure as hell aren't giving her back."


In my deepest heart of hearts I believe that Minnie is a lost cause. And I don't have faith that they will find her. But I marvel at the notion that there are people out there that believe in anything so strongly that they will continue to do everything within their power to see it through. I've always been a bit of a quitter. I've never had that kind of perseverance, and I envy it a little, although I still think they're crazy. But a little crazy isn't always a bad thing. And regardless of how stupid I think spending all that money on their lost dog is, it just goes to show how deeply certain things certain people certain pets, Can burrow their way past all of our guards and all of our defenses and into our hearts, leaving us irrevocably changed just by knowing them.

Even though the windows were rolled up and they didn't hear me, I'm sorry, Minnie Sign Waver guy. I am sorry for my lack of faith. I look at lost dog signs differently now. I pay a little more attention. I think of the family that worries over them, and wonder about them. And I wonder if any of them are found ever, or if their families are always waiting for them to come home. Maybe next to finding Minnie, the most important thing for this family is that they prove through all of this, that they haven't forgotten her. Because forgetting something, and losing something can in someways be just as painful.

I know it seems like this is just about some random person's lost dog, but its not. Its about more than that. Its the principle behinde famiy, and loving someone, and that's that you don't give up on them, and you can't forget them, because they become a part of you. And I know, I know, its a little dog, and some of you won't understand that.

 And we don't necessarily care about Minnie because she's not Our family. But clearly she was family to someone. And that makes her important. That little lost Chihuahua from a year ago is still important to someone. So remember that the next time you are questioning your own self worth. Chances are, you're probably important to someone too, and even when your faith is waivering in yourself, chances are there is someone out there, who hasn't forgotten you, and to them you are worth remembering.

I'd forgotten how much I loved to write. I'd let myself get so caught up in life and the momentum of it all, that I'd neglected to take time out and just write. New Years Resolutions: 1. set aside time for my family more 2. set aside time for myself sometimes 3. remember the things that I love, and do them. This year has taught me one thing above all else, and in more ways than one. This year has taught me that time will constantly keep you guessing. We are never caught up to it. We never know how much we have. I can't tell if its going by fast or slow or which way is up. SO I resolve to enjoy as much of it as I can. Doing what I love. Spending it with the ones I love. I have also given up soda, but that isn't as poetically significant.