So, in the spirit of the holiday, I am going to take a minute or two to write about the loves of my life that I am spending my evening with: baseball, music, and literature.
Today was the opening day of Spring Training for the Pittsburgh Pirates. Although I have no reason to be positive or enthusiastic about this season, as management did next to nothing to improve one of the league's worst teams from last year, I can't help but get excited when the players finally report to Spring camp. Because, after all, it's about far more than wins and losses; regardless of the record, the Pirates have 162 games to play this year, and I will enjoy watching as many as I possibly can. Baseball is still baseball, no matter how good or bad your team is, and that is one of the most beautiful and perfect things in the world. That is my first love.
Seventeen years ago today, in a garage in Southern California, four fellows gathered for their first rehearsal together. Those four fellows were the members of Weezer, and though two of those members have since been replaced, the spirit of the band remains relatively in tact through some tumultuous and terrible times, no less. It's been a long road for Weezer and for Weezer fans. Like a love that starts out hot and passionate, Weezer burst onto the scene, emerging at the perfect time to pave the way for the power-pop post-grunge era in music history, and what an amazing era it was. Most of my favorite modern music comes from these few years starting around 1994, including two undeniable classics from the Weez. Though they faded away completely for a while, and are unlikely to ever fully return to the greatness that they achieved in their original incarnation, a Weezer fan can't help but be a little proud of their staying power. Their latest album, the self-titled "Red Album," showed glimpses of greatness again, and I can't help but be a little excited about what the future might bring for the band that changed my life so many years ago. To the first band that I ever loved, who piqued my interest in music and paved the way for my future expanding tastes, I thank you.
As for literature, you are my newest and freshest love. We discovered one another amidst a sea of confusion and perhaps because of that, I have yet to give you all of my trust. It took me a long time to make a move at all. Despite the years of playful flirting, I kept you waiting, experimenting with other potential suitors. Even now, I have yet to take the leap of faith required to reach our full potential together. But that's what I wanted to talk to you about: I've been thinking about it, and I think it's time. We're good together. We understand each other. I can see parts of myself in you, and there are parts of you that I can see that others can't. We bring out the best in each other. I feel as though you make me a better person, as though I'm more with you than I am without. And although I struggle at times in having the confidence to believe that I am good enough for you, I am working on it. Time and again those whose opinions I value, those who hold you in the highest regard, have tried to make it clear to me, that I am good enough for you, that I do get you, that I'm not merely fantasizing. The signs have all been there, but I've been too unsure of myself to accept them. So, forgive me for dragging my feet. Forgive me for selling myself short and for giving up on us too early. It's time. After more than a year of him-hawing and postponing and talking myself out of it, I've made up my mind.
I'm going to tell you this in all sincerity, and I know you've heard it before, but this time I mean it---more than all the other times, though I meant it then too. This time, I think I'm finally ready. After this semester, I will no longer be an English Education major. Instead, I will take the time, however much it may take, to get my shit together and do what I've known I wanted to do for some time now. No more taking the safe way out. I'm taking a chance. I don't know where I'll end up or when I'll get there, but it's coming. I'm over the quarter-life crisis that I've been going through where I thought that I'd better hurry up and settle down into a boring life in a boring town and start a routine before my hair turned gray. Here we go. Here I come.
And some Jay-Z lyrics that popped into my head during the last paragraph for good measure:
They say an eye for an eye, we both lose our sight
And two wrongs don't make a right
But when you been wrong and you know all along that it's just one life
At what point does one fight? (Good question right!)
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