Things I Remember, Things I Am Learning, and Things I Already Know

It has been a long week. Monday was Labor Day and I don't remember what I did. Tuesday and Thursday I had drumline, did more homework than I've ever done in my life, and Wednesday and Friday I had vocal ensemble and did more homework than I've ever done in my life those nights, too.
Friday it was my friend's birthday and we ate for him and his little sister beat me up quite a few times over the course of the night.
I was thinking about 9/11 all week. It was always right there, at the back of my mind, when we were drawing Europe in World History or drafting our character sketches in English. I was always thinking about it, and it always brought me a little closer to the ground.
It went from hot to cold in hours and I have never been so glad to have goosebumps.

There are 3 book signings I want to go to in October. Michael Cunningham, Nicole Krauss, and Laurie Halse Anderson. I have to pick one. I have no idea who I'm going to pick. Shaking hands with any of those three people makes my knees wobble a bit.
The Dresden Dolls are going on tour and not playing in Boston. I wish I had tickets to Cabaret. I will see her again soon.
Yesterday was the first football game of the season. At 8:30, we were in the back parking lot marching. We marched to the field, played, left, and I came home. I ate a lot. I am eating a lot, crossing my fingers that I am growing, and watching my skin very slowly get better.
In regards to the title of this post, there are a few things I want to ramble about. I will probably get nowhere, but I just want to get these things off of my chest.

I'm starting to realize that I can't make everyone like me. Not everyone is going to want to be my friend. Whether it's because of the way I act or the way I talk or for whatever reason, some people just don't want to be around me. It hurts my feelings, of course it does, but I'm trying to move past it.
I was the kid in elementary school who could count all of his friends on one hand. In middle school, I made a lot more friends. It took a few months, but I did. And now, in high school, I say hello to more people in the hallways than I can remember when I get to my next class. I smile so wide it hurts my face and I mean it. But the kids who don't like me, the kids who think I'm weird, tend to stand out a little more.
My mom told me its their loss. I feel like its my loss. Its everyone's loss.
And maybe its because of my sexuality. That's probably it.
Maybe its because a lot of my jokes are really strange and awkward. That's probably it, too.
Maybe its because I'm just really awkward in general. That's definately it.
I could think up a million reasons and they could all be right. I can't change their minds, the people who don't want to be friends with me. I can hope they change their minds, but I shouldn't change the way I act to try and change their opinion of me.
People will think what they will think, and see what they will see.
Maybe it's not the way I want to be seen, but there's not much I can do about it right now.
I am learning that.

I am learning to push myself. I am trying. I have been in school for something like two weeks and, this past week, I was burning out. It was a shell shock, this big hit to my body. I got up at 5 and went to vocal ensemble and worked my butt off all day, came home, and went to drumline. I have been assigned so much homework and I am so overwhelmed but I keep telling myself IT IS WORTH IT.
I want to join the Eco Club, the French Club, the Honors Society, all of these clubs. I don't think I have time. I'm trying to find where my limits are, just trying to find my overall footing, and it is worth it.
Am I working so hard to help me get into a good college? Yes.
Am I working so hard for my future? Yes.
Am I working so hard because it feels so good to challenge myself and do well and push myself harder than I probably should because, when I finally stop, it feels like I've been running laps around the earth (which I'll probably be doing by the end of this year)? Yes.
I am perfecting my French accent and learning about agriculture and reading stories that are SO SO boring but still taking them in because I know I have to.
I am having fun. I am exhausted by the end of every day. I am learning that this may not even be a bad thing.

Yesterday, at the football field, we played the National Anthem and then there was a moment of silence.
It was one of the quietest moments of my life. It was a few seconds, maybe 5, and no one was saying anything. There were a lot of people there.
We could hear sirens far away, and cars honking and people yelling, but we were silent, and it didn't feel wrong at all.
I don't think anyone should do anything on September 11th. I think we should all sit home and maybe turn off our televisions and maybe turn off our laptops and not go to work, not go to school, and instead just sit with our families and talk about how we are feeling.
Everyone was thinking about 9/11 yesterday. If I let my mind wander, it wandered directly to that. A few kids said, "I can't remember 9/11 at all," but I remember.
Maybe I've planted the memories. Maybe they didn't happen to me at all. But I think I remember. And the thoughts were the only things in my mind yesterday.
I have two memories, and they are short. The first is sitting in the computer lab at my elementary school and watching something on a small TV. I can't remember what we were watching, but I remember that there were a lot of kids in that room. There are a few foggy things, like I feel like I remember seeing crying teachers and other crying kids, but I'm not sure about that at all.
And the second thing I remember is getting dismissed, walking outside and seeing my dad waiting for me.
My dad never came to get me. It was always my mom, after she got out of work, but today it was my dad.
I asked my dad where my mom was, and my dad said she had to stay at work. We went home. I knew something was wrong.
And now, 9 years later, I still remember those things. I watched a few minutes of a documentary on the History channel with my dad, of the buildings collapsing and people falling, and I thought I was going to cry.
All I have to do is think about the Twin Towers or the people who have been effected by that day, who are still effected by that day, and I think I'm going to cry.
And we have all been effected by that day.
Everyone knows someone who died, or could've died. Everyone can trace themselves there, to our country's semi-capital, and I don't want to go on a rant about terrorism, but I'm just writing whatever comes to my fingers.
I don't understand. I honestly just don't understand. Children are raised that way, to think that killing others because they aren't the same as us is right. They are raised to think that strapping a bomb to their chests and wandering into a public market and exploding into shards and pieces is right.
People kill us, and others, because we aren't the same as them. And they can justify it. And they think they are right. But if anything has ever been wrong, this is what it is.
We are all human. We are all the same. We have our different colors and races and cultures and ways of acting but WE ARE ALL ON THIS EARTH. We all have to eat. It is everyone's nature to love and care and breathe. We all have to survive.
But no one has to kill. No one has to hijack a plane and send it careening into a building or a field, killing thousands of people and effecting millions. This is worldwide. Its not just America, and not just the people we are fighting, but everyone.
Sure, we are all different. We are all unique. But we are all exactly the same, and if I can see that, me, a 15 year old boy from a small town in America, then anyone can see it.
And everyone can see it. You just have to open your eyes. But we're okay with just kidding ourselves. We're all okay just sitting around and watching.
I'm not okay with it. I can't be.
There is a feeling inside of me, of course, that it is going to happen again. There is a feeling inside of me that this war is never going to end, that America is going to go up in flames and I am going to lose everything I've believed in since I was born.
But there is a feeling inside of me that things can change. And that feeling is so much bigger.

This is a long post. I have been writing this for a long time. I needed to. I will write a long post again next year probably, too.
Because that day is always going to be that day. We can't live in fear of it. We have to live with it. We have to work against it.
And we can remember. We can grieve. Maybe in a few years it won't be so hard. Maybe it will be just as hard.
This post is the reason I was inspired to write this one. I won't pretend I didn't cry. I did.

I finished This Must Be The Place by Kate Racculia. I am reading To The End of The Land by David Grossman. I will have reviews next weekend. Thank you for being here with me.