Brazenly Cognizant

I watched three episodes of Heroes tonight after doing some work planning this semester. I really hope I get in the classes I want to. Next semester I’m going to choose my classes early.

I made a New Year’s Resolution about blogging, among other things, and it sounded very epic when I typed it in a cold sweat on a midnight freeway. So here’s what I wrote then. I haven’t been able to access this blog, however, because I was traveling and couldn’t access the blogsome network. That’s too bad. I’ll tell you about the Holidays tomorrow night. Here’s what I typed January 1st, 2009:

Its been a wild year. I like to spend New Year’s Day going over the successes of the Old, to put it into my past formally by looking over my best memories. I went to Senior Prom, aced my AP tests, then graduated from High School. I earned my place as an Eagle Scout by finishing up my Project and a lot of paperwork, and was glorified in a very special ceremony. I was accepted into the University of Santa Cruz. I jumped dune hills in the Imperial Sand Dunes more than once. Summer was filled with EFY, a Church trip to Utah for canyoneering and rappelling down 200-feet cathedral-esque drops, an awesome family reunion in Southern California, mountain camping, movies, competitive video gaming, the last RV trip to Ottawa Canada, seeing the Pioneer Trek in reverse. Summer filled my year, actually. We did a lot during those four months. In September I began my first semester of college at UC Santa Cruz and loved it. The holidays were very fun, with relatives once more. I always look forward to seeing my family.

And so, the last year before my two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ends. I will spend at least half of this year ahead of me preaching for the Lord in some far-flung locale. Thus, I have six months, six short, short months, to finish up my childhood. I don’t think there is any better dividing period between childhood and adulthood than your two-year mission. Sure, I’ve matured a lot, but you couldn’t call me a full adult, and that’s what my family and friends will see when I return from my mission working in the name of Jesus Christ.

There are things that I’ve learned about myself during my nearly nineteen years of living, and much less than that of consciously wondering and self-analysis. I want to be famous. And yet, what might seem like a goal with opposing interests, I am also very spiritual and cannot reject the Truth of my religious beliefs. Jesus Christ wouldn’t desire and seek out fame, and He is the perfect example for us all. So why does this urgent seeking of glory continue? I myself would like to see both of these desires fulfilled. Perhaps fame is the wrong word, maybe all I want is respect, and that seems like a worthwhile objective that coincides with my spiritual journey. But, (and I put this as humbly as I can), its not just respect. I want as many people as I can get to look up to me, to respect me as a leader, as a teacher, to recognize the worth of my character. There is a prideful glory that could be associated to that, that the Bible tells us to avoid. However, I cannot avoid that I want it in all my Randian ambition, down to my soul, as much as my soul yearns for Spiritual Truth that allows for complete existential knowledge and comfort.

That goal has been in the back of my mind since I began progressing to the mental maturity as an adult, around the age of twelve. I have regrets that I did not pursue it sooner, that I’m not leaving on my mission as a child prodigy. I always had excuses to be unproductive. Well, these last six months, I’m not going to make excuses. I will chronicle these last six months to maintain a record of who I was before my mission, a record of the boy that I believe the man will one day miss. Sure, there is always the hopeful joy of constant progression, but even now I look back to my short twelve-year old journal entries and wish there was more that that counterpart of me could communicate. How had I changed?

Even now I look upon what I have written and wonder what that guy three years in the future will think about it. This is for you man, but its also for everybody that might want to see the same thing. How will I prepare for this coming sacrifice, this two-year labor of faith? That is something interesting in itself, perhaps the greater interest. Nevertheless:

These will be the last six months of my childhood, and I wish to crown that era of my life with at least some semblance of naively-imagined regretless glory and accomplishment. I think I can do it. That is my resolution.