It's been a while, I know. And I have some regrets but I'm guessing you knew that.
I'm not going to use this post to write about him and blame myself incessantly and annoyingly. I've already done that. I'm tired. But I want to write something to keep on record as a reminder and possibly as some kind of advice for anyone in the future who finds him or herself in the same situation.
Before I started going to UCLA, I was considered a great person. I'm not trying to be cocky, I'm just stating what my friends said, what they say they're parents have said, what my mom said her friends said. Parents and friends adored me and what was the main thing - the thing they'd point out - that they were amazed about and made me such a great person? My academics. My working skills. My diligence, my promptness, my self-sufficience. I had straight A's and in my head, I loved it all. Sure, I loved other stuff but that's what made me. I lived off my so-called intelligence.
And that's how I got into UCLA. Of course, I had some club activities and volunteer hours but I made sure to have those so I could get in.
I'm getting to my point, I promise.
When I got into UCLA, that's when I felt like I was really falling. Don't get me wrong, I had him. But read what I have to say. I wasn't an athlete, I wasn't a dancer or performer, I wasn't a social lite or big on clubs, and I did not have religion on my side. Academics were what made me a great person, what I felt like I could live off of and nothing would be wrong, and suddenly I was struggling to get at least a C.
And I didn't do anything about it but complain. I cried to my mom nearly everyday and when I found someone to share my thoughts with, I complained to him, too. I didn't do anything to pick myself up and ended up hurting myself and a person I truly cared about.
Academics were what made me. Without it I wasn't great. By not doing anything else, I became worse.
As much as I loved my first year, it was also my downfall. And it was no one's fault but mine. That's why this upcoming year, I'm doing something. I won't only have my studies. I'll have a job, I'll have culture night practices, I'll have more and more friends. I'll also have God by my side, trusting him completely. I need to pick myself up again.
I'm not going to lie, I wish I figured this out sooner. I wish I knew why I was acting the way I did and how to fix everything. But it came too late. Or maybe that wake up call - you know which call I mean - is what needed to happen in order to come to this realization.
Year 2010-2011, bring it.