I could spend all summer taking the things Wilcox said and breaking them down…in fact, maybe I will.  We’ll see.  To start, here’s something that meant a lot to me, even though it wasn’t the most profound thing he said…it was just something he said in passing, one topic to another, to move the discussion along and head to bigger things.

“How many sunrises will you see between now and the day you die?  Ten?”

Ten?  I’ve seen way more than ten.  We used to go camping and we would watch the sky.  When I was eight I loved waking up early, “getting up with the sun.”  The numbers did fall a little bit.  I got caught up in things, like homework and TV shows.  I was never much with a violin, but I did like playing it as the sun set. 
      And I do think one of my earliest memories was listening to my dad play Canon in D, right after the sun set, and admiring the way dim light played on shadows.  That was before I really got into computers, or the internet.  Think of that.  I’m only 18 but I can still say that “when I was young, the world was a different place.  We didn’t live on the net the way we do today.”

Is there anything more beautiful than a sound wave?  All these years and we’re still attracted to the same instruments.  These notes will live and breathe for a moment and then they’ll be gone, never to sound the exact same way again.  Try this:  Close your eyes and play “Speed of Sound.”  Think of your life as sounds and images of sights and nothing else…not even whole memories or events. 
      The romantics used to think that nature was God in the truest sense, that the miracle of life and the beauty of nature were perfect and divine.  I wonder if there are still romantics left?  Not that I’d like to meet any.  They might be full of disappointment in this day and age.

I guess all I’m trying to say is that I hope we watch lots of sunrises in college.  Or sunsets.  Or take walks and look at the sky.  Or stargaze.  And talk about things that will make a different kind of sound.

Till then, here’s to artificial light and the flicker of a screen.

Stay
under streetlamps
past the neon signs
with me
where troubled thoughts
can fall through spaces
the silence will seep through us
in One Embrace.

The sky will change, and…

We’ll watch the light
leak into the night
the colors
like spray paint
to decorate
this hollow, endless empty
and our lives will float back
to a colorless city

We’ll be on our way, and…

Dying
lights that change
dying
dreams that fade
here, two lost souls
a colorless city.

Take a step back, and remember…

“How could she?” and “How could she?”
Unsaid words in unsaid voices
All we have
believe in
spoken bullshit
soundless noises
I wish I could show you
What I really, truly meant
when I said that the only real things aren’t said

something whispered and unheard…

I’ll see you soon.

Guess what, Eric?  I rediscovered Death Cab For Cutie’s album “Plans.”  I don’t remember when we were into it and I don’t know if you’re still into it now.  “Soul Meets Body” used to be my favorite.  Then I lost a little bit and became more interested in “Summer Skin.”  Now it’s “Brothers on a Hotel Bed” that I like.  Something just feels so real and sad about an aging, married couple that acts like two brothers on a hotel bed.
      I don’t know why I suddenly feel like everything has been written out for all of us.  I can see college life flashing into a rented apartment, then a work schedule and a job and eventually a house.  It’s not a pleasant feeling.  You probably don’t feel that way.
       So why am I writing this on a blog, instead of in a letter?  Because I wonder if anyone else has ever felt this way.  If they have, they should know that there’s a song about it.

I’m disappointed we didn’t get our yearbook by now and I’m disappointed we didn’t have a senior trip, but I’m not sure why.  If not now then soon, we can go anywhere we want with anyone we want.  If we want to remember what high school was like, we can use our senior portraits or Facebook or anything that was ever created or posted or written in the year 2012. 
        When you think about it, aren’t yearbooks a little out of date?

If I got my yearbook today, I would have written:
      Eric, good luck at UC Berkeley.  You’re a great friend and a great person.
      Tony, congratulations on getting into Harvard.  We’re all so proud of you.  Good luck.
       Katherine, I’ll see you again when colors burst under the sky.  Good luck at your dream school and stay in touch!
       Lawrence, may the force be with you.
       Jonathan, do not forget all the unforgettable moments we had in English class together.

So it’s there, in case we never do.  Not that we won’t.  But what if we get them on Friday? 
        Everyone bring paper tomorrow.  Let’s take control of the situation.

“I don’t mind the weather.  I think it’s brainless to assume that a change in the window view offers a whole new perspective.”
      But the sky is clear for some reason.  Whenever it is I feel like there’s certainty, even though there’s not.
      This is it.  We can really do anything we want now. 
      I hope you find what you’re looking for, or I hope what you’re looking for finds you.  But it’s just a simple change.  I know we’ll see each other again someday.

Older than the tablets
wiser than the ancients
memories in faded rings…

One thousand years of rain and sun
and countless sunsets in its eyes
A child said “your Time is done
the Earth and sky are mine.”

It didn’t fight
it knew that this
was life, and life’s great consequence
to die from hands so weak and young
the Flame of Youth burned off its tongue.

Remade into an object
as dead as fallen leaves
these rings will tell the story
of nature and her thieves.

From perfect lines of symmetry
nature shrinks away from me
to fading zones that we protect
then buy and break or move and wreck.

Fleeing from my shadow
a spider runs away
I squash it with one movement
and stare at what remains
Here, so dead and dying
Above, I’m what can stay
I’m death and Earth’s disaster
But Earth made me this way.

These birds can see me walking
with wings they fly away
I, alone, don’t harm them
We kill them every day.

Whole races dead by morning
Genocide, then rest
A species built on murder
What a self-important quest…

If these fores are in order
and these angels walk the streets
How, then, can we triumph
in the face of this conceit?

I’m starting to see it more and more.  There’s talent everywhere, in every place, in everyone…but especially in the places I’ve been.  I know it doesn’t sound like much of a discovery and maybe I just can’t find the right words to say it.  But at least here, behind this screen and with all the time in the night, I can try to formulate the words to express what I’ve been wanting to say.

When I enrolled in Balboa I didn’t really know what to expect.  Middle school was good, but I think we were all a little caught up in our worlds and we hadn’t really found ourselves…not yet, or not completely.  So I came without really knowing what the people would be like or whether we would all change or whether we would still be the same after what seemed like four short years.  And I don’t know when I discovered that there was something special about our year, our class.  Maybe every year is like this.  I have no idea.

It started when I discovered Balboa’s music side.  I didn’t really find my own place in it, but it was a world of its own.  Kai and his guitar.  Lucas.  Steve.  Aaron.  Ian.  Colin.  Mr. Binkley and Mr. Arnold. 

It sounds like I’m just naming names, but from that year on I started to notice all these little things everyone had.  I could think of it in a long, broken, yet incomplete list. 

Kwok’s brain.  Chloe’s charisma.  Andy’s wit.  Aaron’s filming…
       Elaine’s drawing.  Jon’s science.  Herman’s math.  Emma’s writing.  Eric’s writing…

                 Erin’s dancing.  Jordy’s humor.  David’s tetris. Happy’s speaking. Katherine’s   Katherineness.  Tony’s everything… 

So where do I begin?  The other day I saw a video by a few students here, depicting San Francisco with all kinds of incredible, yet somehow simplistic animations.  The audience erupted in applause.
     Today I saw some of the APCS processing projects and noticed the creativity in something usually thought of as tedious.  The variety.  The range. 
      A week ago I listened to an album made by someone in our year.  It wasn’t the first album produced by someone in our year.
      And then everything we did just starts to blur.  The trips to Mali.  The robotics victory.  The volleyball championship.  The mock trial competition…I couldn’t believe they were actually in high school.  Seeing friends debate, or free ideas run, or Stephen brake dance those months ago, or…hang on…rewind.  Let’s have some order or this will go on for pages.
       I remember when I first joined buidOn.  In the years I spent at the soup kitchen and the food bank and park clean-ups and meetings, I realized that the club was creation in every sense, and everything associated.  I never went to Africa or Haiti to build, but it meant so much that people did.
       I remember when I first joined dragon boat.  In the years I spent racing and paddling and warming up, I realized that the team demonstrated everything dedication was capable of, and how results followed.  It wasn’t always a smooth ride, but it meant so much that we made it so far, and I hope it can go on just as well when we have to go.
       I think I remember seeing the statistics but I don’t remember what they were.  Two to Harvard.  One to Princeton.  A lot to UC Davis, San Jose State, UCSD, UCSC, UCI, UCLA, UCB, State, SLO…the list goes on and on.  And we’re finally at the end but it’s more like a new beginning and I love thinking of it that way.

I know I’ve written a lot but said little.  I wish I knew the exact words to use right now, but here goes:  I know everyone can do fine in college because we’ve demonstrated that we have everything we need—the talent, the intelligence…the capability.  But sometimes I get the feeling that they act like it isn’t there.  They scrutinize, they assess, but they do it all wrong.  They throw things, little tedious bits.  They turn a blind eye.  Not always, but sometimes. 
      What I mean is, if they can’t see it someone else can.  Or you can, and you can make them see.  There’s so much talent and potential even though it’s an imbalanced world. 
      I hope it works out.  We’ve all come so far and there’s so much ahead to learn and discover and achieve.

It occurred to me that we’ll never be at this exact point again.  Every word spoken, every action taken…every sound wave is something that will exist in the moment and never happen again.  These notes stay the same, but they’ll never be played this exact way.  These words stay on the page, but they’ll never be read the same way.  We’re losing moments and days and years and they’ll never be ours again.
      Every moment could be the moment that changes everything.  Every thought could be a revelation or an idea that changes the world.  What do we think of at a sunset—that the day could have been more productive?  What do we think of on our deathbeds—that this life could have been meaningful?
            Almost makes a person want to let go of everything that isn’t a vital part of the immediate present.  That wouldn’t be prudent.
                 Since when did everything become something in terms of the future?  The world made so much more sense when every moment was its own world. 

A whole world built on immediate gratification.  First war and sex.  Then war and movies.  Then the internet and video games to shock the mind into never hearing its own voice again. 
        We’ve built empires and war machines but it all feels so trivial at the moment.  Stock options.  Statistics pertaining to six billion people.  Events affecting 10 million people.  Downfall.  The future of a nation.  It all seems trivial somehow, at this moment and only at this moment.

I think the happiest people are those who don’t always know what they’re looking for.  Reading books and not being interested at every page.  Taking journeys without a clear purpose or destination in mind. 
      They ask us to lay our whole lives in front of us, as if it were something meant to be planned out.  Let’s get a feel first.  Let’s go on without always knowing exactly what we’re looking for.
           Because no one knows what comes after the end…we just know that the thing at the end is the end.  There’s something so wonderfully beautiful about that.  How transient and impermanent we are.  How evanescent each moment is. 
                I don’t know, I think there’s something perfect about it.  I can’t imagine why.

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