Dear Alan,
You are halfway there and living on a prayer. How does it feel being half done with your Yale experience? Alternatively, how does it feel having two more years (a long time) to do at Yale what you want to do? What do you want to do? Has this changed from our past conversations?
xoxo,
-cy
Sunday, May 31, 2009
And I Smile From Death Upon All
Dear Alan,
I don't think that it's really hit me yet, my death. I got home just yesterday after 15 hours on the road, after 3 days of Yale-China orientation, after commencement, Senior Week, Myrtle, finals, Reading Week, school...it's been a whirlwind of activity. Today has been the same: I've begun the sucky sucky task of unpacking and repacking. Moving to a foreign country in two suitcases = special. Very, very special.
I cried several times last Monday (commencement) and Tuesday (move-out), but not even as much as I expected, and since then, I've become surprisingly emotionally stable (after I had described the whole graduation affair as "emotional devastation." I love Yale, I love y'all, and I'll miss college, but (I think...I hope) a healthy sort of miss. I had four bright college years, and that's all, folks. I had my time, and I did with it what I needed to do: I learned how little I know and how much maturing I still have to do...and you know, I think that's exactly what Yale means to do.
Every Yalie experiences "death" differently, and I can't speak to a unified experience, but I can speak for mine, and I for one was resurrected on the third day. I got my after-college dream: I'm moving to China to teach spoken English, fully-funded for two years (including language training). I'm living and teaching with other Yalies in a city where there will be eight of us (plus our awesome program support officer). I'll have the time and funds to learn to cook, learn an instrument, learn tai chi...learn anything. I'll have the time to write, reflect, travel and experience.
BCY calls Yale "the shortest, gladdest years of life." I disagree: life is what you make it. Our time at Yale was short, yes, and glad, mostly, but I intend to make my life ten-fold what it was at Yale, to make myself one hundred-fold what I was on commencement day. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. The end was sad, but the beginning is exciting. I'm going to make my death count.
-cy
I don't think that it's really hit me yet, my death. I got home just yesterday after 15 hours on the road, after 3 days of Yale-China orientation, after commencement, Senior Week, Myrtle, finals, Reading Week, school...it's been a whirlwind of activity. Today has been the same: I've begun the sucky sucky task of unpacking and repacking. Moving to a foreign country in two suitcases = special. Very, very special.
I cried several times last Monday (commencement) and Tuesday (move-out), but not even as much as I expected, and since then, I've become surprisingly emotionally stable (after I had described the whole graduation affair as "emotional devastation." I love Yale, I love y'all, and I'll miss college, but (I think...I hope) a healthy sort of miss. I had four bright college years, and that's all, folks. I had my time, and I did with it what I needed to do: I learned how little I know and how much maturing I still have to do...and you know, I think that's exactly what Yale means to do.
Every Yalie experiences "death" differently, and I can't speak to a unified experience, but I can speak for mine, and I for one was resurrected on the third day. I got my after-college dream: I'm moving to China to teach spoken English, fully-funded for two years (including language training). I'm living and teaching with other Yalies in a city where there will be eight of us (plus our awesome program support officer). I'll have the time and funds to learn to cook, learn an instrument, learn tai chi...learn anything. I'll have the time to write, reflect, travel and experience.
BCY calls Yale "the shortest, gladdest years of life." I disagree: life is what you make it. Our time at Yale was short, yes, and glad, mostly, but I intend to make my life ten-fold what it was at Yale, to make myself one hundred-fold what I was on commencement day. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. The end was sad, but the beginning is exciting. I'm going to make my death count.
-cy
Friday, May 29, 2009
Death Smiles Upon Us All
Dear Chris,
This may seem like a bit redundant of a first post, but I'm not particularly used to this, so it's going to be a bit of a shot in the dark, but...
How is it being dead? How is it dealing with the deaths of those around you?
I seemed to be rather blase about it myself, at least when it first happened. I've never been a big goodbye person in the first place. Maybe that's because I have gotten so used to saying bye to my mom or dad for reasonably long periods of time, the "See you later" always seemed more appropriate. I took that approach to high school, and it seemed to work out OK. Of course, I am bound to those people geographically, and we all periodically return to the same place for the sake of out parents in a way that alumi will never return to Yale, save for perhaps The Game.
I could account my acceptance of the departure of my loved ones to an old habit of Stoicism, where I just accept things as out of my control and make the best of them. And in that case I find the best example of this to be from Gladiator:
(the quote is about 1:20 in)
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1139332/gladiator_movie_dreath_smiles_at_us_all/
I think the second reason perhaps that I can be so cavalier about this whole death business is that our relationships are built upon more than just physical presence, as important as that is. It's the fact that we can have these kinds of conversations despite just plain silly distances between us that matters.
It seems that I at this point I should say that I am sorry that you are dead. That seems like the obligatory thing to do. But I don't think I am. I think it is unfortunate that you will be going so far away with so little opportunity to see you, but I am not sorry that you are gone or that you are going so far away. I know this is a huge opportunity for you. And even if you find it ridiculous that I am being so selfless, there is a plus for me. One of my closest advisers and confidants is going to an entirely new land with an entirely new culture, from which he will form entirely new world perceptions which he will then share with me.
So, go off and explore. And the posts shall continue.
Love,
Alan
This may seem like a bit redundant of a first post, but I'm not particularly used to this, so it's going to be a bit of a shot in the dark, but...
How is it being dead? How is it dealing with the deaths of those around you?
I seemed to be rather blase about it myself, at least when it first happened. I've never been a big goodbye person in the first place. Maybe that's because I have gotten so used to saying bye to my mom or dad for reasonably long periods of time, the "See you later" always seemed more appropriate. I took that approach to high school, and it seemed to work out OK. Of course, I am bound to those people geographically, and we all periodically return to the same place for the sake of out parents in a way that alumi will never return to Yale, save for perhaps The Game.
I could account my acceptance of the departure of my loved ones to an old habit of Stoicism, where I just accept things as out of my control and make the best of them. And in that case I find the best example of this to be from Gladiator:
(the quote is about 1:20 in)
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1139332/gladiator_movie_dreath_smiles_at_us_all/
I think the second reason perhaps that I can be so cavalier about this whole death business is that our relationships are built upon more than just physical presence, as important as that is. It's the fact that we can have these kinds of conversations despite just plain silly distances between us that matters.
It seems that I at this point I should say that I am sorry that you are dead. That seems like the obligatory thing to do. But I don't think I am. I think it is unfortunate that you will be going so far away with so little opportunity to see you, but I am not sorry that you are gone or that you are going so far away. I know this is a huge opportunity for you. And even if you find it ridiculous that I am being so selfless, there is a plus for me. One of my closest advisers and confidants is going to an entirely new land with an entirely new culture, from which he will form entirely new world perceptions which he will then share with me.
So, go off and explore. And the posts shall continue.
Love,
Alan
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