Words When All Others Are Lost
The building towered above me like my mother when she first taught me that it was indubitably not alright to inhale soap bubbles from our dishrag.
I wandered in child-like admiration, and examined the parts of the Facebook complex that weren’t all that evident. The bare walls drew me closer, and when I was just close enough for my thoughts to sing to me, I was captivated by another sharp edge or tangled wire.
Enjoying the maintenance of a small start-up company feel influenced me to enjoy the feel of California altogether. I was hooked on the clouds that sent the plane rumbling when we descended, on the way the locals spoke about their loved ones in imperfect English during El Dia de los Muertos in Puente, on the way that freezing cold waves influenced the complete freedom and fearlessness of immersing our bodies in them, on the way that a person knew a person who knew another person who knew Mark Zuckerberg or Steve Jobs.
I’m not intrigued by the city itself. Without the people to cast spells upon my intellect, the city would mean nothing to me except a golden bridge to drive across and the rare scent of factories that made me cringe. It takes a special kind of person to ignore those things and admire the enormity of the building or the brightness of the streetlamps (concern was not given to the issue of light pollution, I suppose).
Coming from a small town that was close minded even towards the humanity of homosexuality sent me into shock when I concluded that the strange are welcomed in a large city, and I was strange.
This luck wasn’t common to me; in fact, it was fairly uncommon. If I wanted to be recognized for anything, I was recognized as a product of sweat drenching my pores.
Difficulties in this life are inevitably uncontrollable.
Because of this, I am immensely grateful for being able to speak in Dr. Howard Rheingold’s class at Stanford.
Among the many things I learned are-
1. Typical introductions are overrated.
2. Speaking is the equivalent of acting, so maybe I should have taken the time to intertwine my normal self in my character.
3. No one thinks I look quite as uneducated and unconfident as I do.
4. My transitions suck more than a starving black hole.
5. My audience still appreciated me.
If the highest measured earthquake performed a 9.5 on the Richter scale, then my body would experience turmoil at a solid 10.
To not stutter in nervousness, I had to imagine something much more amusing than the audience members being nude. I realized that I must imagine that every single college student was my brother staring back at me. I would imagine them all making odd noises at once, or skipping across the lawn in a fat ballerina Halloween costume.
Halfway through my speech, I realized that that is exactly what they all were. They were all human. They felt emotion, they had a wild crazy weird side, and they might even once also have mistaken the word “insist” for “incest” in a speech.
They were me in the future, or that was what I dreamed during nights that carried silence, when my mind spoke so loudly.
I poured my blood into that speech, and I came to a point where my doubts were drowned. I looked to the ceiling, because I finally made the realization that I was moving fast, and I was moving straight up towards the Heavens.
Now, as I rest at home in my beaten up leather reclining chair, I re-examine myself. I attempt to find a change, something that had changed in me as a result of my experiences in California.
I searched for a deeper meaning, but I found only my true old self in a purer and more confident form, yet I am growing ever obsessed with my beautiful life.
I basked in that life for a moment.
I felt the creases in my hands; I was self-aware.
I felt the color in my irises; I was aware of my surroundings.
I was aware that the ingredients that absorbed my thoughts didn’t go into the oven to perform any specific task, and I was aware that for once,
I was at a loss for words.
-Cassidy Uhl, Innovator and Generator of Change
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CassidyUhl
