Pumped

My brother graduated this weekend – it is the end of an era – the last Wilson in a line of four to make it out of William and Mary. The kid didn’t do too bad, in fact he busted that place up and closed his departmental commencement ceremony with a stirring speech that had people applauding their asses off. (My aunt was later asked by an impressed audience member if she was Jim’s grandmother, something that cracked my dad – 13 years her senior – up and made her scream “SHUT UP, BOB!!” across the church parking lot.)

Archbishop Desmond Tutu was the guest speaker and he was amazing as was the new President – everything, all the sentiment, all the demands for social activism, for taking responsibility and actively seeking to make the world a better place got me so inspired and pumped. I was constantly welling up or getting serious about getting down to business and doing something meaningful. Tutu claimed to be (loosely) quoting God when he said, “don’t let the oldies make cynics out of you.” I realize how jaded I’ve already become as I wasted most of my youthful optimism at rallies and organizing for a nonprofit that was (sadly) as hypocritical as they come. But maybe I should be jaded about that stuff because that stuff just is wheel spinning bullshit. The only things that my SOA protests taught me were how to resist arrest (and wiggle out of those resisting arrest bracelets) and how to survive a love triangle. Maybe that is more a reflection of my priorities at the time, but I have a hunch it’s broader than that.

I’m done with so many of the insecurities that plagued me through college and spilled over into my independence in Richmond – I now feel quite capable to take on the responsibility of working for others I just don’t know what to do. But Wooooo I feel ready.