Running downhill is a dangerous thing to do. At first it seems like something that will be manageable. Even though the hill looks big from the top, I assure myself that this time I will not stumble. The problem is, no matter how fast I think I can move my legs, the hill demands that they run faster. As I near the halfway point of the hill, the task seems to be approaching a very difficult spot. I try my best to speed up but at this point, I am fooling myself; my legs are not moving any faster and the bottom of the hill is rapidly nearing. Inevitably I stumble and begin falling downhill. I can only hope that my reactionary, impulse movements will save me from injury as the pace quickens. As I fall, I prepare myself for the stark reality of the hill’s end, but no matter how prepared I think I am, the end comes sooner than I expect. Even as I watch it getting closer, I am unexpectedly stopped by its certainty. Once I have reached this point, I look back and wonder what I could have done to make this semester of post-secondary education run a little smoother.
At the beginning of the semester, I am excited to begin all the new assignments that are soon to be given. I do them with pleasure and revel in their completion. The semester only seems to operate this way for a short period of time. After the grace period is over, assignments pile up and desire for education can turn into a struggle to meet deadlines. Balancing work, school and family is an act that deserves award-winning recognition for those who do it well. It seems that no matter how hard I work during the semester, there is always an assignment or two that lingers on past their expiry date like that cottage cheese at the back of the fridge that I just refuse to confront. Even, the cottage cheese has to go at some point.
I sometimes struggle trying to find a topic that will inspire me to hand in a well-written assignment once the semester is over. I scroll through the rolodex in my head searching for something that will allow me to write clearly and coherently in the short period of time I have allowed myself. Now here I am, with an essay that needs to be written and only a few paragraphs of ranting about running downhill, deadlines and cottage cheese. The truth is, I have started this essay once before. Initially, I was inspired as I began to write. The words were flowing out of my fingers and onto the screen with the fury of an Italian sports car taking corners at incredible speeds but then I hit a wall. Luckily, the victims were minimized to a me and a teacher who is forced to put in extra time in order to frantically grade the final remaining assignments of the semester. All is not lost. The Lamborghini (Or was it a Ferrari?) that hit the wall remained in tact and is still capable of performing when called upon. Below is the essay I began to write, but then for one reason or another I could not finish:
Life: a twisted ride from a starting point that has not been negotiated to a destination that nobody knows the likes of. Everything along the way is a random, display of happenstance and daily appearances at scheduled and scripted events. The world through the eyes of some people is a serene and beautiful place where men walk with birds near the sound of gently running water. For others, earth is an anarchical series of days, occurrences, places and persons loosely strung together by a frayed fabric that could snap at any moment. A select few of us humans are comfortable knowing the unpredictability each new second brings. Like the notes of a song we have not yet heard, we are constantly confronted with unknowns. Each person is his own composer; each person is her own composer. The epic symphony of life is filled with symbol crashes and subtle moments, deep strokes of the cello and light, care-free flutes. We are all presently the result of the seconds, the days, the years, the decades and even the centuries before us. We are the cause; now is the effect.
The portion above is what I began writing as a Hunter S. Thompson inspired tale of his enormous influence on my writing style and view of the world. Somewhere between then and now I decided to change the direction the essay. Unpredictability took over and the effect is what I am seeing in front of me right now, which will ultimately be what you are seeing in front you right now. Hunter S. Thompson, or HST would often write in a way that could make the normalcy of any given day seem like a surreal situation that only he could get himself into and only he could get himself out of. Perhaps the way he lived, and the things he did caused these things to happen to him, or maybe his writing style dragged the reader into a world filled with imagery of fear and excitement through his intentions as an author; I think it was an erratic emulsion of both.
Like the books written by HST, the downhill marathon of post-secondary education is a treacherous experience that seems like only I can get myself into or out of. It is filled with great potential for success and failure. No matter how difficult the workload seems in school, I am confident that the end result will be success, despite stumbling near the end of the hill. Besides, there is always next semester to improve my downhill running skills, at which point I am certain I will casually jog across the finish line.
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