Essays and Assorted Writing
This is a page full of the essays that appear in journal entries. I included the date of the entry for the sake of commenting. Enjoy!
It’s six o’ clock PM–not really late enough, in my opinion, to merit the utter blackness enveloping everything I drive by. But it’s winter time, and the sun sets at about four now.
I just picked my little sister from her friend’s house, where she had been playing since two. There’s a song on the radio talking about some lost love, but the volume is too low to discern what exactly the words are, and, quite frankly, I couldn’t care less.
I look over at her. She’s just ten years old and innocent. Her legs can’t touch the floor while she sits, so she bobs them up and down to the song she’s humming to herself. She is looking out the window and trying to read every lit-up sign that we pass. She is truly in her own world. She looks like she has something very important on her mind.
I am reminded of a time when I was just her age–eight years ago. I would have been in that seat, and my father, driving me home, would notice my silence and the thoughtful spark in my eye.
“What are you thinking about?” he would ask.
“Nothing.” I would invariably answer; I always told him “nothing.” It was never true. When I was ten, I was always preoccupied with the most insignificant things, like how much I enjoyed spending time with my friends that day, or what I would do when I got home.
But when I got home, I almost had a routine. I would cuddle with my mother on the couch. Maybe she would read a book to me. Maybe we would watch a television show. It didn’t matter; with her arm around me and my head by her side, nothing mattered.
Things were easy then, to say the least. I had no problems, no worries, no “issues.” I was comfortable, if nothing else. If I hurt myself, I held on to the superstition that, if my mother kissed me, my pain would magically subside. I believed that I could do anything. I wanted to be a scientist and an astronaut and a fireman. I wanted to be a doctor to help people and a veterinarian to help dogs. I could fly if I wanted to. I had friends without worries, too. We could pass eight hours together without realizing any time had elapsed.
Now that I am driving home, I remember those days fondly. I miss those days. Somehow, I am eighteen years old and a senior in high school. Somehow, I am driving myself home. When I was young, I had thought it’d be another forty years before I drove a car. Now, looking back, it seems like a weekend. As I watched my older sister and eventually my older brother graduate from high school, I was convinced (even disappointed) that I would never reach that age. I would never be an “adult”. Now, I face college. I have responsibilities. I have a lot of friends, and just as many enemies. Every day, I wake up and go to sleep in a perpetual state of motion. My life is an intricate web of factions, friends, and duties, and time is flying fast. Every week, day, and minute seems like nothing more than another grain of sand on a beach. Every moment is momentary. Every emotion–sad or happy–is transitory. Yesterday I was ten, today I am eighteen.
I glance back over at my little sister–this time with a little more reverence and respect. How jealous I am; how I only wish I could be that age–that careless–for one more day. My mother used to tell me to never grow up, that I ought to stay a kid forever. I thought that was an absurd gesture. Why would I want to stay that age forever? Adults are the ones who have it easy. They are the ones who have fun. I wish I had listened. She says it to my little sister now, and I’m sure she laughs just as much. After all, it is the sole desire of every young child to be older. For me, I wish to be younger. I wish to be able to take my problems and discard them at my mother’s side again. I wish that she could kiss me and heal my wounds. I wish that I again believed that I could, indeed, do anything.
People often wonder where the time has gone. They act as if it has slipped by them undetected. I have decided that this is only part true. I think that time has played a trick on us. It has left us because we did not appreciate it enough. For me, I have learned my lesson, and I am learning to appreciate it. If I do not, I can expect the next eighteen years to pass just as quickly. Instead of dwelling on what I do not have anymore, I will learn to appreciate what I still have and what I have gained. For now, that means the friends and family I have. Perhaps in another two years, though, it will change again.
I take one final look at my sister. She’s still kicking away, humming away, thinking away. We arrive at a stop light.
“Hey, Abbey,” I ask, “what are you thinking about?” I anticipate the answer. I need the answer.
She responds nonchalantly, though, to me, it is everything.
“Nothing.”
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Monday, September 22nd, 2008
A letter to my cousin, Luke today…
Dear Luke,
I heard that you’re in prison. That’s admirable. Okay, so we’ve had some pretty crazy things happen in our family. But you’re definitely topping the list of crazy family news right now. But just remember that we all love you and are only concerned that you are in a good place (metaphorically).
When we were young and you wore knee-high blue sox and had an unconditionally chapped upper-lip and came to my house for Thanksgiving every year, I wanted you to go to hell. You fought with Mike all the time. Later than I was awake, and earlier than I woke up. During every meal and outing. I was embarrassed. At this time, I always imagined that you would some day end up in jail and I would be a successful contributer to society. Well, as it turns out, that is the case. I’m here, and you’re there. Only I dropped that wish years ago. The truth is that I developed a healthy jealousy of you. You are brilliant. Your mind works in different ways, and that shows through in the ways you express yourself. Your mind works exactly like mine, and that’s rare. The only difference is that I only have one clinical disorder and you have several. Of course, this only makes your brain run faster than mine. But it also has made you more susceptible to certain things. But I watched you go through many stages in your life, and I watched you change and mature and grow, even as I was doing so myself. You clang to things, it seemed, like acceptance. I never really cared for that. At the same time, you were very original, moreso than one should be.
But when high school came, a lot of things began to change. I took a liking to you, but still kept a distance. I thought, Luke has the potential to do very well; better than any of us. All he needs is some direction: a positive role model, or a good friend. But I was unwilling to be one. I didn’t return phone calls. I ignored you online. I stayed far away. I denied you. I knew what you wanted and what you needed, but I ignored the pressure every day to help out my own cousin. Oh Luke, why is it that I am here and you’re there? We are the same person, only you’re more sincere and I’m more arrogant.
I want to tell you a story about one of the darkest points in my life. It was in high school. I was high and drunk, only something was still wrong. I was low. I was unfulfilled, and trying to be happy and failing. Its funny, because right before entering high school, I said a prayer. I promised God that if he would allow me to get good grades and make friends, I would abstain from drugs, alcohol, and sex. So much for that. I stopped believing in God and I forgot about that promise. Even if I said that I believed in God, I didn’t acknowledge his existence. Ever. I couldn’t be bothered!
Well, I was drunk and depressed. I wanted to kill myself. I thought that life was horrible and couldn’t get any worse. At the time, I was driving around with my friend and trying to tell him about all of my problems. (He was driving). Suddenly, he put a song on his ipod that I had never heard before and he told me to listen carefully. It was just a singer and an acoustic guitar, and it went like this:
A white ghost, making his way up the west coast,
Trying to focus his high hopes on a vagina or two.
He’s taking his chances.
Meanwhile, back in his living room
Bright smiles are watching his toddler run speed trials
Over a grandmother’s rug.
And nature advances
Up the interstate,
He’s been awake,
And pretty drunk for three whole days.
No one wants to stop
Until they get to where they’re going.
I’ll get to where I’m going pretty soon.
So he takes another drink,
‘Cause watching the scenery bleed
Into each similar scene
Isn’t as sweet as it had been in his dreams.
It’s faster to buy cigarettes and some cold beer
If you don’t rattle the cashier
By asking her back to your room.
She’s calling security.
That’s the main part of the song, and it’s talking about a person who has hit the lowest of lows, and can’t find fulfillment, and gets shot down everywhere he goes, and the dreams he once upheld fondly are now just that: dreams. And he has nowhere to turn and nowhere to go. The next part goes like this:
Our car’s on fire in the parking lot
And nobody wants it to rain,
But God isn’t listening.
So all the windshields glisten.
The water and oil mix,
Causing the fire to spread
To five or six innocent automobiles
Waiting in their nearby spots,
Oh, what a cruel God we’ve got!
So he takes another drink,
‘Cause watching the scenery bleed
Into each similar scene
Isn’t as sweet as it had been in his dreams.
Things happen in life, Luke. And some things will get you so low that you won’t know what to do. But God is listening. Believe me, he is listening. I have abandoned him as many times as I’ve said I’ve loved him. I’m a stupid person. But he’s more patient than we are, and he’s listening. Luke, talk to him. and don’t do it for me or for your mother or for your family. Talk to him because he can help you.
Life only moves forward, my dear cousin. We have watched each other grow up, and we know things about each other that no one else knows. You are in my earliest memories, and I would like to consider you my brother. I ask for your forgiveness for my selfishness, and I want to help you. The day is still young, Luke, and this is a mistake that can easily be forgiven if you ask for it. When you get out, you can start structuring the rest of your life. It won’t be easy, but I will try to be there, and God is listening. Start setting things straight now. I await a response, but in the meantime, I will leave with you one more lyric. It’s called “Good Weather for Airstrikes” by Sigur Ros:
I slide myself forward,
Through my head;
I think halfway
Backwards
I see myself sing
The anthem we wrote together
We had a dream;
We had everything…
We rode to the end of the world.
We road searching;
We climbed skyscrapers
Which later exploded.
The peace was gone.
Balance leaks out.
I fall down.
I slide myself forward through my head.
I always return to the same place.
Total silence.
No answer.
But the best thing God has created
Is a new day.
I love you, Luke, and you are always in my prayers. Be safe, and be smart.
Love,
Andrew J. Michalak
_____________________
On Love
Monday, September 15th, 2008.
Allow me to speak at length on the subject of love.
One day when I was young, my mother received a package from my grandfather—her father—on a very important day. It was the anniversary of her mother’s death. My mother refused to open the package immediately because she knew what it was, and she wanted to savor the moment when she did open it.
My grandmother was an extraordinary person. There are very few things about my childhood that I remember, but I certainly remember her well. She was a traditional kind of woman, much like every woman on my mother’s side of the family. Stubborn, hard-bearing, and incapable of being pushed around. She knew what she believed and what she stood for, and she stood for it. She had a beautiful smile, much like the smile that every woman on my mother’s side of the family has. She was very pleasant and always happy. I remember her as a sort of role model to me, and as a loving, caring figure. A recurring dream of my childhood was that I was in the ocean with her, and a wave that was bigger than me came and tried to knock me over. But she was there holding my hand, and keeping me upright.
She was also an avid collector of a series of glass figures called Precious Moments. These figurines and ornaments displayed various people—usually children—in different poses and scenes One might be a young boy and girl on a see-saw. Another might be a mother hugging her daughter. They often came with quotes corresponding to the scene. My grandmother had many of them, and every time I went to her house, I would look at them to see if she had any new ones.
One thing that the Precious Moments series has portrayed well is love and friendship. Many figurines revolve around the importance of companionship, and emanate that warm feeling of love and friendship themselves. The truth is that love is, in many cases, is comfort. It is warmth on the coldest day. The author Jeremy Taylor described love as a friendship set on fire. The apostle Paul said that “love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Paul was a very intelligent man.
But one of the challenges of being human is that we make mistakes—every day. We can turn even the most beautiful things into horrible situations. We must always remember that love can easily turn into pure lust. It can turn into complacency. It can even turn into hate. Love is like a delicate rose. In its beauty, we are drawn to it. But if we are not careful, we may hurt ourselves on its thorns.
I am only eighteen years old, but I can say that I have been extremely blessed in my life to have loved and been loved by many different people in many different ways. I have a very loving family, and I love them. I have very loving friends, and I love them. I have a wonderful girlfriend, and I love her.
My family has been through a lot. There was a time that I remember when there were only four of us. Now there are eight. Now I am away, and I miss the every day happenings of my family. Now my older brother and sister are much farther away, and I miss them dearly. It took many years of fighting and arguing before my siblings and I got it right. Now we are inseparable, I love my brothers more than anything. We form a sort of troupe, and whenever we are reunited, I feel great strength and comfort.
My girlfriend, Toni, has been the apple of my eye for a long time, and every day I only grow deeper in love with her. One important aspect is that we don’t love each other like we used to. We used to love each other because we were going out, but now we go out because we love each other. I used to love her as a “girlfriend,” but now I love her as a sister. We are very comfortable with each other. We have gone through many stages in our relationship—not all good. I mostly blame myself for these issues. I was attracted to the beauty of the rose, but I was careless in handling it. I hurt both of us in the process. One thing to remember is that dethorning the rose may remove its danger, but in doing so, the rose will wither and die and lose its beauty.
In all of my years and all of my experiences, I have always struggled to achieve one thing. “To love and to be loved,” the author George Sand once said, “is the only happiness in life.” I believe him. But what is true love? Aristotle said that love is composed of one soul inhabiting two bodies. What does that mean? And how is that achieved? In thinking about the experiences of my life, I think I have figured it out. Love is comfort and security. Love isn’t simply knowing a person, it’s being that person—being in their thoughts, and sharing their pains and their happiness. It’s no wonder, based on Aristotle’s quote, that the absence of a loved one can leave you empty. When a loved one leaves or dies, they take a part of you with them. That is because you are both sharing something, and when that person leaves, that something gets lost forever.
Later in the evening on the anniversary of my grandmother’s death, my mother finally decided to open the package that her father had sent her. Of course, she already knew its contents, but when she opened it, I could see the warmth manifest her body. She burst into tears as she embraced the content of the package—one of her mother’s favorite Precious Moments ornaments. It was at that moment that I realized the true definition of love, despite what any philosopher, author, or scholar might say. Love is knowing what is in the box before it’s opened. And, after seeing what it can do in even a seemingly simple case, I’ve decided that love is something I will fight to hold on to for the rest of my life.
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