It’s almost midnight, and I am reporting live from my bed thanks to an obnoxiously strong wifi connection. Did you know that wifi stands for wireless fidelity? I learned that in 10th grade.
I just made my lunch for tomorrow – read: I just put all leftovers from last week into a container to microwave at school tomorrow because I am done spending money the way I have been because I am broke – and I’m thinking about how this week could go.
I was at home for New Year’s Eve for the first time in more than 10 years this year (last year?) We usually go to a church service (which I have mostly always objected to because FRIENDS. HELLO MOM MY CHURCH FRIENDS ARE NOT EVEN HERE.) but there was some tension and strangeness, so I got to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and Home with my sisters, and then climb up to our rooftop to watch the fireworks.
I listened to this song on repeat for many reasons: (1) It was so perfect. So cliche. Living the dream. (2) I love Layla. Mostly because I can sing most of her songs well. And because her lyrics make me remember things I thought I couldn’t. (3) It gave me a lot of hope, and said what I needed to hear.
The sentence, “Yeah, you’re gonna be somebody” is repeated fourteen times in the song. At the beginning of 2016, I wanted nothing more than that reassurance. I was waiting on Canadian universities to give me a chance, and for my father to do the same. I was ready to go and be somebody across the ocean. I was so deeply in love, and I couldn’t shake myself from wanting to be somebody the exact way I thought I would be.
Fast forward to May 2016, and we see that I am heartbroken. The Canadian universities did give me the chance I wanted. I got in. I did my part. My dad didn’t. He flaked at the last minute, and I am somewhat stuck in a law degree for at least the next three years of my life at my current university. I cried a lot. (Thank you, UBC. It means a lot that you wanted me.)
The year so far really has been an understanding of what there is to lose. I’ve lost lots. Not nearly as much as I could have lost, for which I’m eternally grateful, but still lots. I’m still struggling to come to terms with the fact that things can go tits up no matter how hard you work. Beyonce was right.
It’s not the first day of a new year anymore, but I am still feeling broken (if not more) and I still want the same: I want to be somebody. I want to make something, leave something, be something. Having anxiety over leaving a legacy and creating that very legacy is a spectacularly painful and exhausting chunk of my psyche.
All this aside, I have an audition tomorrow. (Today?) It’s for a community theatre group. I’m nervous out of my mind. I don’t know what that has to do with anything about me being somebody, but I hope it makes my head a little less foggy. I don’t know. Perhaps this week will be more reflective than I’d thought it would. In all honesty, I should go to bed and stop researching portable chargers and earphones to buy online. It’s after midnight and I’ve got to be out of the house before 6 AM.
hi lovers lost behind us
hi lessons we failed to learn
hi those that tried to mould us
and tried to change us for the worse
can’t flee from bygones
no shaking off the truth
just a first understanding
of what we have to lose
you can’t cover over holes
you can’t burrow deeper down
yeah, you’re gonna be somebody
to being somebody.
love and light,