Superfreaky

Dear Superfreaks,

Yeah, I'm talking to you. The kids who were musical prodigies at the age of four. The ones who lived in foreign countries and received top-notch education starting before elementary school. The kids who were becoming baby scholars while the rest of us regular people were eating glue and making jewelry out of breakfast foods.

You geniuses who were a shoe-in for all of the young and gifted programs and actually took the entrance exams in beautiful institutions instead of taking them from your dad's friend in the attic so then when you didn't get a high enough score nobody had to know.

You perfect students and model citizens who took above and beyond the necessary courses. Who never skipped a day of school and never tried tobacco, drugs, or alcohol, but told us it was perfectly fine if we did and then we felt like dirt bags.

You young, successful professionals in your early twenties. I have a message for you...

Why do you have to make me feel so inadequate? You're so awesome that I can't even look into your faces without my eyeballs threatening to burn from their sockets. You have so much access to opportunity. When I think about the candidates that will definitely be picked over me for the programs that I want to be a part of and I get scared and sweaty because those candidates are just  better than me....you are those candidates. I want to be those things. I want to be a shoe-in. I want the scholarships and the lack of doubt in my mind that I'll be able to go with adequate funding to the graduate school of my choice. I want to be so smart and talented and unbelievably awesome that I can go anywhere and do anything and it will change the world, no problem. You make it look so easy! You are SO COOL….

But, then I think about how I wouldn't have had tea parties with the Lochness Monster in my back yard if I had had to practice my five musical instruments. When would I have had time to play house with my sister or go to a normal school with nap time? And let me tell you that I now know that play-dough and glue don't taste too great, but cereal jewelry tastes like triumph. And I'm glad I experimented in high school because I got a hard earned lesson about how I want, and don't want to live my life. I got to experience living…maybe for worse at the time, but in the long run it was for the better.

So, as I research grad schools, opportunities to work abroad, as well as grant and fellowship opportunities, I know I won't have an automatic in. I've made mistakes. I haven't been perfect. I haven't always run the straight and narrow, but I have learned and those lessons have made me, me. I have passion and strength that is my own that hasn't been pushed at me my whole life. I found it all by myself. All I have to do now is follow that path and I am certain I'll get where I need to be...it will just be a bit harder.

         Yours Truly, 

          Me

*Artwork by my beautifully talented sister, Carsen Miller.

Toast and Juice

Last summer I spent a lot of time with the homeless individuals in Springfield. My favorite was Toast. The first time I met Toast I was sitting on a park bench on the square downtown with my roommate, Paige. As we sat a young man came over to us. He smiled as he smashed is hands flat against one another, began forming his palms and fingers around an invisible sphere, rolled it around a bit over his head and behind his back, then handed it to me to eat. It was an energy orb. It was meant to give me joy and happiness, and for some reason it did.

Over the following months I spent several nights downtown each week with Toast and other individuals without a place to live. I learned of the life they lived; never knowing where their next meal would come from, hearing about the newest abandoned house for them to seek shelter on rainy nights, listening to stories of their few possessions being stolen, and how rare it was for members of the community to express care and generosity to their brothers on the street. 

While it wasn't uncommon to encounter these men drunk or on drugs (honestly who could blame them) they seemed to keep their chin up more often than I think I would. This was especially true of Toast. At the age of 16 his mother had thrown him out of her house. She was an addict and was convinced that her son was after her stash. Now, at the age of 17, this young man had experienced more than anyone his age should. He had been beaten, abandoned, cast out, arrested for sleeping in parks, robbed, and "lost his face" to drugs, which he claimed he never got back. This kid was fried, hence his street name, Toast. Despite all of this, I never saw Toast without a grin on his face and the deepest love in his heart. 

One day I asked Toast why he was always so happy. He responded, "I'm like a cup of juice. Sometimes I spill, and that's bad. But then I just drink myself and everything is better. Sometimes when others are sad I give them some juice because it will make them better too."

We all spill over, lose confidence, get angry, become sad or depressed, lose focus…but we grow by spending time on our own and learning just from ourselves and what is around us. If we spill too much there is nothing we can do to contribute to individuals or the community around us. It is only when we have filled ourselves up that we have enough to share.

That's a pretty cool lesson to learn from a 17-year-old homeless kid.








*Artwork by my beautifully talented sister, Carsen Miller.