A Young Man's Journey

I remember heading into college, prepared for a Van Wilder type experience. Never mind that I had never been to a party like that in high school, or even that the idea of those types of events gave me a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, this was college and I was sure I’d find an appreciation for “the scene” over night.

Looking back on it now, I wish to god I could speak to myself. “Just be you,” I’d say. 

Not so much in the cheesy, “you are special and great just the way you are,” kind of way, but more in the “everyone you’ve ever admired has led their own path,” kind of way. I got to college and stayed the same person I was in high school for the next two years. I went from a timid, shy, kid insecure with his body and personality, to a slightly less shy, timid kid who drank and smoked weed excessively (for a short amount of time.) I remember doing these things because I thought, “this is what men do.”  But what did I know about being a man? What did any of that have to do with MY identity, when I was so internally uncomfortable with it?

I was never that person, I’m still not. Sure, I enjoy drinking a really good beer a couple times a week and, while I choose not to smoke weed, I don’t hold it against anyone that does. But I remember being the type of kid my freshman year that would rather stay in, put on some music and draw or write. That is who I was and in many ways still am, and I only wish I had the guts to say “there is nothing wrong with that.”

I also remember the mornings I’d get up after a night of drinking and for some unknown reason I wouldn’t be hung over. I’d put on some shorts and I’d head to the gym. Keep in mind I had no clue what I was doing, and am only now gaining some perspective on how to train, but I remember a zen-like focus on those mornings. Finding something so pure and cleansing after a night of intoxication. That was sophomore year.

I spent the next year in California. I left for a lot of reasons but mostly to escape. I had an ex-girlfriend I wasn’t smart enough to simply let go, even though I guarantee she would have been much better off, much sooner if I had. I was sick of the cold New England winters and had a stocked itunes list of pop-punk romanticizing an escape to Southern California. That was good enough for me.

The experience was everything I had wanted for I don’t know how long. It took a step outside of my comfort zone to realize how unhappy I’d been. And I’m talking since middle school. Always afraid, sensitive, and unsure of myself. It seems strange now, to have wanted such things as a kid. I had a family that loved and supported me, and to who I wasn’t afraid to speak honestly. If you had known me, you’d have thought of me as a nice boy. Just a really nice boy. For those of you who have been given this label, you know how bad this can fuck up your day.

In California, I only remember thinking to myself, “smile, and be outgoing.” That was some of the best advice I had ever given myself. I had for the longest time held the notion that men didn’t smile, that if I held a strong, stoic gaze in the bar, just like in the movies, the hot girl would come over and make some cute joke. So that was me, the 165 lb tough guy. Thinking back on it now, I realize how bad I fucked myself. Why would a female, or anyone for that matter be interested in talking to someone who looks like an asshole?

So I smiled, made friends, had a few more embarrassing experiences, but most of all I began understanding who I wanted to be and what I wanted to represent. Me. Now days I do things that allow me some physical affirmation of accomplishment (drawing and weight lifting), while continuing my long-term journeys everyday (getting my masters, and living a healthy lifestyle). When I don’t know something, I find someone who knows more than me and read what they have written. Then I find out to whom they go when they don’t know something, and read what they have written. But most of all I try to live a simple life. Too often are people willing to claim they don’t want drama, because it sounds grown up. I think many of you can agree that for some reason, drama tends to surround these people more than anyone else.

I am still learning about who I am and what I want to be. One principle I have found most important is to throw away any and all definitions of what it is to be a man. There is no single definition, and the current ones suck. They encourage us to be violent towards each other and the women in our lives. To be promiscuous without any warning as to the feelings of emptiness we often experience afterwards, and to find humor in the hurt feelings of our partners. The media perceives us as slackers ignorant within our relationships and void of feelings aside from horny, hungry, and angry.

I’ve known tough men, but more often than not, the tough men I’ve most admired were so through circumstance and always encouraged me to use my head. But something about this notion, while noble, is off-putting. No one wants to be the “soft generation.” It feels cooler to be the guy saying “I used my fists so you don’t have to.” But get over it. Put it in perspective (I often use my imaginary children.) Do you want to set a violent example for your son to follow? Do you want him to put himself in a dangerous situation (possibly die) for some ridiculous notion of “respect?” That word is thrown around with impunity these days, but for god’s sake, respect yourself.

Respect yourself enough to lead a life that creates more positivity than pain, and own that. That is a noble goal.

By Anonoymous