upon the shoulders of giants


Several months ago, I was running with a good friend, and after a rather interesting conversation about our plans for the future, he asked me a simple question.

"What are you going to do, Sid?"

I didn't have an answer for him. I had vague ideas, fragments of identity, and no motivation to do anything. I had spent a full year demonstrating to anyone who would listen that I had no potential, and nearly convinced myself of the same. But that conversation, and that question, punctured the apathetic and casual identity I had spent months constructing.

I had joined and quit a dance team in single quarter. Parties of every size and flavor found me, drunk and sweaty, among their attendees. The second dimension possessed me during nearly one hundred hours of anime binge-watching. Worse still, I had spent nearly double that time writing software that I invariably scrapped before completion. For three months, my sleep schedule rotated around the clock, and noon saw me asleep as often as not. But, honestly, was I behaving differently from the average student? Unlikely. Swap anime for Netflix, and programming for browsing social media, and the above description could match five thousand others.

I stepped off the plane with the warped convictions of a mental patient. I was the sane one, at least relatively. But how could I be sure? I drove to the local public library and checked out a few books.

For three months I read science fiction, did mechanical work on my car, and ran through the mountains. I searched, and I found.

When it was time to return to LA, I packed up my purpose and discipline and brought them with me. I've come back here to skillfully do the things I can and humbly challenge the things I cannot. I've come back to run my part of the race.

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