Gone. Gone forever.
Sometimes I wonder about whether I am simply a ghost, passing through the world without leaving any tangible evidence of my passage. I find more and more that differences I thought I made are quickly undone, or never existed at all.
People forget about me, and I suppose on some level I can’t blame them for that. I’m not really all that remarkable. But nevertheless, I just wish that I made an impact on somebody and that they’d let me know it once in a while, you know?
When I arrived at my law school, I noticed large framed pictures hanging on most every wall. The pictures are composites of individual photos of students from graduating classes. I always sort of liked having those photographs hanging around because it gave me a sense of legacy… a sense that I was a part of something that had a history and that years from now students would see my picture and think of themselves as carrying on in my tradition.
Well, this week the photos for the picture for the graduating class of 2007 were taken, and I didn’t have the money to pay to have the photographers take my picture. I won’t have my portrait in the group with everybody else, and I won’t be hanging on a wall in the law school.
I guess years from now, nobody will think of themselves as carrying on in my tradition. They won’t even have known that I once walked the halls where they stand looking at the photos of the people with whom I learned and about whom I cared.
I’ll be just a ghost, and nobody will ever even know I existed.
posted by The Academian | 10:07 AM
3 Comments:
Frankly, I’m not all that able to provide any kind of pithy or insightful reply when there isn’t enough in a comment to give me a context concerning what it means. Are you saying an incredulous ‘Seriously’ as if to say ‘I can’t believe you believe that’ or are you saying ‘Seriously’ as in ‘I agree with your discussion of the issue’? There are a half a hundred ways for that single word comment to be taken, and they vary from one end of almost any emotional/intellectual/psychological spectrum to its opposite.
I don’t think I’m alone in wishing that I will be remembered after I am gone. Hasn’t this exact same sentiment motivated people to have statues made of themselves, commission portraits painted, or to get their name on a building? I certainly think so. An awful lot of people want to be remembered in some way to ensure their legacy into the future. Whether that takes the form of being a war hero, getting a key to the city, or just being recognized by having your picture on a wall at the law school you attended, I am fairly confident that they are all evidence of the same underlying desire.
I always liked the pictures on the wall simply because I thought of them as a way that the school could congratulate and honor its students. I envisioned it as a way of having the school say in a quiet way, ‘we admire you and we’re proud of all that you’ve accomplished!’ I wasn’t ever made aware that it was an honor that was only accorded to those who could pay.
I’m not a rich man. I should have enough money to take care of my bills, but I don’t. The money in the accounts my parents set aside for me, which was to be transferred into my control upon turning 18, has not been relinquished to me. I have a marginal income, and my bills are higher than that income each month. Coming up with $25 to get my picture taken is simply not something I can afford. Even if I had luxury money to spend on things other than discharging my debts, the picture couldn’t even take priority. The brakes on my car are malfunctioning, and because of a particular pattern of phenomena my computer is exhibiting, I think that either my RAM is failing or my hard disk is about to permanently fail.
However much I want my photo to hang on that wall, I don’t have that option. A decade from now, when students walk past the graduating class of 2007 photo hanging in the halls of my law school, my face will not be peering back at them, and that thought fills me with a little bit of melancholy for myself and anger toward the institution that only affords the honor of inclusion of a photo with the class to those who could pay. Maybe I’m alone in this, but I don’t think so. I think that most anyone in my position would feel similarly, and if your comment was in reproach, I hope this clarifies what I was saying.
As a final note, as little as I am inclined to reply to a comment that is so brief as to provide no content, I am less inclined to reply to someone who can’t provide me with an identity, however contrived. I only reply now because it has been more time than I care to count since any of my friends have acknowledged my existence outside of a formal context, and responding to a blog comment is at least halfway like being able to talk to someone. If you are new, at least say something like “Hi, I’m Bob.”
If you are who I suspect, then there isn’t a reason for you to be anonymous in the first place. I still hope for friendship and would welcome your comments. It was made clear that I was not a welcome addition to the SE group, and would be delighted to have communion with any of my old comrades again. Just because I am not welcome among the circle of people who were once my confidants does not mean that you are not welcome with me. I’m not trying to paint myself as the magnanimous victim, but simply expressing my desire for this rift to be healed, and my fear that the desire is not mutual.
I am going through a rough time, and I am within a year of leaving behind everything I have ever known: my home, my family, my friends, and all of my comfortable habits and haunts. I am leaving the only life I have ever known to journey out into the unknown thousands of miles away to start a life that is still a completely blank slate to me. Hiding behind anonymous comments doesn’t do either of us any favors, and I pray that I get some help in fixing whatever it was that went wrong between us… because I value your friendship, personality, and insight, and that relationship is slowly dying and killing a small part of me with it. I don’t have the skill to fix it alone, and I’ve done everything I know to do. I’m a very proud man, and admitting that my best simply isn’t good enough to fix it alone is shameful to me. These psychological and emotional games are ones I don’t understand. I don’t understand what their goal is and who, if anyone, wins from playing them. I’m not good at playing these kinds of games, and they weary me more than I can express. At this stage in my life, that weariness is a burden I’m ill prepared to carry. If there is anything left to save… if there is any chance that I can be forgiven for whatever part I played in the damage, I’d like to know. If there is nothing left but scorched earth, I’d like to know that too, so at least I could begin to grieve for what I have lost.
You Are Alone
-Bob-
I have two options, here. I can either assume that you are actually a new person who has chosen the name 'Bob' for the purposes of talking to me through my website. I also can assume that you are who I thought you were all along, in which case you have adopted both casual lying and cowardice to deliver your message.
Frankly, I prefer the first option, since I don't want to think ill of people whom I otherwise respect.
So I offer my deepest apologies, Bob. You aren't who I thought you were. I appreciate your attempt to see into the relationships between myself and the people I know, but none of the people named Bob that I know would say what you just said there.
Not knowing the details of the difficulty, I have to let you know that your insight is understandably limited here. The message you gave is one I am more than willing to admit, but those are words that have to come from the lips of someone who is involved in the disagreement. I'm sure you understand how a third-party analysis is somewhat less than useful to me in this context.
That said, I hope you enjoyed adding something to this discussion, and I hope that you continue to do so into the future, irrespective of whether it is useful to me.
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