The night
I wrote about the need to take a break, I knew I made a good decision. I went
to bed at peace. I woke up at ease without the pressure to write. I was able to
think without having to formulate it into a 250 words or less post. I could exist, get dressed, eat breakfast,
and walk to work without wondering how I was going to document or process the
thoughts for an audience.
I have
outgrown Sound Bites. In 2008, I created the blog to document the weight I had
lost, the feelings of desperation I had left behind, and my new found
confidence. Prior to this, I had I
spent a very long time pretending to be something I am not. I talked too much
to prove myself in crowds. I overcompensated for what I didn't think I
possessed. I acted out what I thought was intellect and art. And here, I found a place of acceptance. I
didn't have to put on a mask to be loved. I could ramble on and on about topics
like love, dating, daddy-issues, haircuts, fatness, positive body image,
family, music, politics, and other emotional crap, and have people understand.
Seldom
have I felt misunderstood here. And maybe it's because I have been unapologetic
of my thoughts and feelings. So, because I was able to achieve that I
transferred that confidence into the real world.
I have
been blessed with amazing opportunities. I have met readers both online and
offline. I have received numerous emails from women across the world saying
they find comfort in my words and images. I am stunned by the impact of being
honest; especially when I had thought
for so long that to have people love me, I had
to be something else.
In its
first year, Sound Bites had a total of 15 comments. I posted sometimes twice a
day. I unveiled secrets that I had been
too scared to confront on my own. I cut off my hair here. I shared awful
outfits. I posted less than stellar photos. This is the best testament of what
my life has been for the past three and a half years. Without a doubt, I would
not be where I am without this little ol' URL. I would not have had the wisdom
and courage to work with youth in the capacity, in which I am now. I know how
to love people unconditionally without fear, regret, or embarrassment. I have
friends who embrace creativity, impracticality, and big dreaming. I have made
new friends. I have learned how to walk away from those who don't offer me
anything new. I have come to appreciate who I am. I have no regrets about the
decisions I have made in regards to blogging, as I believe I have always acted
with good integrity.
I work in a wonderful city that looks to employ young people
from the age of fourteen to teach them lifeskills that will prepare them for
the real world. Part of my responsibility is to help recruit them. One of the
girls asked me this week how I was going to convince her to apply for the job.
I was caught off guard by her question, but found myself giving the “perfect
advice,” as she later labeled it.
I told the curly haired and wise beyond her years teenager that
I wasn’t going to do anything to convince her to take a job. But, I wanted her
to spend some time thinking about why while others were desperately applying on
their own, that she had adults begging for her to apply. I wanted her to
reflect on what others saw in her that made us think she was such a strong
candidate. And after that, she could think of the practicality of the job.
Would it fit into her schedule? Would it prohibit her from doing school work?
Would she be getting home too late? The next day she came in with the purple
application form in her hand, asking for an interview.
When I was a senior in high school, I had a similiar situation
with an adult. Mr. Oteri was my first intellectual crush. Somewhere in his mid
30’s, married with a young son, and a large mole resting in the
corner of his eye, he looked like an all-grown upFerris Bueller. He was a former social
worker who told us stories about how he had a gun pulled on him by one of his
former teenage clients. He was a history teacher and the advisor for the
Student Council. He was warm and kind, but not afraid to break up a fight in
the hallway. He ran after kids he heard saying things like, “That’s so gay,”
and served them detention. I loved him from afar and even though he hadn’t been
my actual teacher yet, I seeked his company after school and in between
classes.
One day in the hallway he pulled me aside to ask where I was
applying to college and what teachers I had writing my recommendations. I had
already asked my Spanish teacher, which confused both him and me at the time
because we both knew I couldn’t stand her. Yet, I thought she was the right
choice. I didn’t do very well in her
class, but she had known me for two years and was open to writing it. He
offered to write me one, but I told him that I no longer needed it.
I was applying for the Posse Foundation scholarship and at the
time, I was heading into the third round of the selection process and was
probably on my way to Bryn Mawr College. I thought he would be proud of me, but
instead he said, “I hope you know that you can go to college where ever you’d
like. You’re not like other kids here. You are not only one of the smartest,
but you bring people together. I don’t think how you see how you’ve unified
this school across race, socio-economic lines, and all other barriers. Students
and faculty respect you. Don’t be limited by this one opportunity. You can have
whatever it is you want. This may sound strange, but you have what Martin
Luther King had. You have it. Think bigger.”
Those words have never left me, but in that moment I was not
ready to receive what he was saying. I didn’t take the time to reflect on what
this adult was telling me about my future and its potential. I wasn’t ready to
accept it.
“Sound Bites” is ready to end. It’s not because I don’t recognize what it has done for me and what it has done
for others, but it’s not big enough. It doesn’t have the ability in this
form to create the impact that I wish to have . When my middle school students
ask why they can’t
read my blog, it’s
easy to say that policy doesn’t allow it. And there’s a truth to that, but in its current form, it’s just not appropriate. Yet,
those little girls are the ones I hope to help the most.
And so,
how do I make that happen?
This is
where the discomfort comes in. I don’t know the answer to what is next? Or know what needs to
change for me to feel like I’m reaching my full potential, but I will get there. I am
not sad. I am not worried. I am awake.
My heart
wakes up in the morning excited, pulsing, and beating its way out of my chest. So
if my mood has changed, do not be concerned. I have seen the horrible things
that this universe can do. There are earthquakes that kill thousands, tsunamis
that wipe out entire blood lines, and cancers that attack the unsuspecting and
undeserving, testing their will to live and love.
And in
these horrible things that make me weep uncontrollably before bed, I find
beauty. The flowers still bloom. Children still grow. Eyes still widen at the
sight of the season's first snowfall. Funny jokes still incite laughter and
tears of joy.
We make a
choice of where we want to stand in the world. Do we want to be on the side
that lives in pessimism and doubt? Or do we rally along with the chirping birds
and fly to our next destination? The world works in opposites. As the pendulum
swings, we can find ourselves on either side, but right now the momentum is
moving me to a better place.
And so
this is my official break-up with Sound Bites. Yes, the opportunities provided
to me through this space have been remarkable, but I am finally taking Mr.
Oteri’s
advice. I cannot continue to hold onto this place for comfort. I must give it
up to make room for something else. It’s time to think bigger and imagine the possibilities of
doing something better.
Again,
thank you for all of the support. If you want to keep in touch, Twitter is the
best bet.
With much
love and respect,
Amelia
