Gradu-8.

I just stepped out of my very last college class. Perhaps even the last class I ever take.

For the last 18 years of my life, I’ve been a student. I learned how to read and write, how to do simple and (way too) complicated math. I learned how to navigate a library, suck up to a teacher; I learned how to pass a test, how to fail one and bounce back. I learned how to buy books for cheap and be okay with selling them back for scraps. I learned how to sleep in class without getting caught, and how to text without looking like I’m fondling and smiling at my crotch.

I spent a good amount of the last 18 years learning to be a student.

At the end of my last class, my teacher said his thank you’s and good luck’s, then it all of a sudden hit me. Up until this point I hadn’t really thought about the future or what happens next, but when the campanile rang at the end of class, all I wanted to do was raise my hand and ask, “Well, wait. Now what?”

What do I do with everything I’ve learned in the past 18 years, 18 weeks, 18 minutes? I had all this knowledge and I had no freakin’ idea what to do with it.

I had no idea, but I didn’t think it was all a waste of time. No way in hell.

One of my teachers constantly quoted William James throughout the semester, saying, “Life is in the transitions as much as in the terms connected.” We don't just hop from one phase to the next, measuring our success when we feel we've reached the end and are ready to summarize.

Among many other things, I am a student. It's not a way to define yourself; it is more so a state of mind.

Yeah, man. A state of mind, and stuff. 

I feel that it’s when people are too connected to the idea of being a college student that they find themselves vowing to do anything to stay an extra year, dying to have just one more day.  

What I have come to understand is that I am not a student. I am a person who has made a vow to learn, to grow, and to make myself better every day. Nowhere in my contract does it say that this ends when I step out of the classroom. If anything, all I’ve done is step into an even bigger classroom, one where every single person is both a teacher and a classmate.  

At Cal, everything I’ve learned has been and forever will be useful to me for the rest of my life, and, if I play my cards right, for generations after me. As we all know, everything can be a lesson. And, of course, I’m gonna give you a top 3. What’s an Angie blog post without a little countdown? 

3. What’s one of the worst feelings EVER? Answer: Having to poop at school.

I don’t even like pooping at people’s houses. I would rather punch myself in the face 6 times than poop anywhere but my house.

So, God decided to punish me a few times this semester and make me need to poop at school. I could either walk approximately 15 miles (aka maybe ¾ of a mile) home or brave the public bathroom and make it a group effort. What did I do? I met myself half way and found pretty much the only single stall bathroom on campus (*cough* moffitt library right by FSM).

Lesson: You’re gonna have to make compromises. There’s no point in wasting your time and effort just to make something convenient for you. There are going to be things (like pooping) that need to be done whether you like it or not. But that doesn’t mean completely sacrificing yourself for the cause. There is always a way to make a situation at least a little better, a little easier. It’s all about give and take. Get the job done, but never lose yourself in the process.

2. I almost didn’t graduate because I decided to be a lazy ass and take the fewest amount of units possible. I tried to spin it like I was going to make more time to blah blah blah blah blahhhh, but really, I was just lazy.

Long story short, I dropped this class and that but then realized (after the add/drop deadline, of course) that I was 1 unit short of the limit needed to graduate. Less than a unit actually—0.2 units.

When I realized what I had done, my initial reaction:

The second:

I AM A FUCKING ASSHOLE. I AM THE STUPIDEST PERSON TO EVER WALK THIS PLANET AND SO IS EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THE REGENTS FOR GRANTING ME EVEN A SINGLE DOLLAR OF SCHOLARSHIP MONEY. ANGELI PICARDO, YOU PIECE OF SHIT MORON, GO DIE IN A WHALE’S ANUS.

 

I was upset.

But after I got a little bit of emotion out of my system, I started on my quest for 1-unit classes. Oh yeah, because to hell with taking a two, three, or, god forbid, FOUR unit class.

Learn your lesson, Ang.

A few days of searching and no luck. Thankfully, I’m a whiny bitch and my friend Marie heard me complaining and told me to join her organic gardening class. It was 1 unit, once a week. Easy.

Organic gardening. At that moment, I remembered totally shitting on this course last year thinking that it was some hippie bullshit I’d never be a part of. Too bad it was the only thing keeping me from going a couple thousand dollars into debt just for one god forsaken unit.

Lesson: An oldie but goodie—never take anything for granted. You never know who or what will be the difference between passing and failing, life and death. I am a firm believer in that everything happens for a reason. Every event, every person, every emotion that somehow makes it into your life is there for a reason. Never overlook something or someone as insignificant because the second you do, it could turn out to be your only lifeline.

1. At the beginning of the year, I applied to write for The Daily Californian, Cal’s school newspaper. I applied to be a columnist because I thought it would be cool to see my words published, but wanted to write something a little more light-hearted and enjoyable. I sent in my samples, a few ideas for future articles. I even got invited for an interview. But—you guessed it—I didn’t get the job.

I was so sad. Why wouldn’t they take me? Was I not good enough? Did my breath smell during the interview? I was so sad, and it wasn’t until I picked up the next day’s Daily Cal and read the column that I got pissed. I read through it and was furious because all I could think was, “I am a WAAAAY better writer. I could write this shit in my sleep for God’s sake. Those morons. They freakin’ missed out.”

And at that moment, I fell in love with my writing again. I fell in love with my writing and since then, my writing was mine again. Papers were easier to write because I wrote in my own voice. I didn’t write for my teacher. I wrote what I thought was right, and something as simple as believing what you’re saying could mean the difference between a good and a great paper.

Lesson: Fail. Fail because to fail means to find clarity. Even just a little, even for just a second. That could make all the difference. You find ways that don’t work and often learn to appreciate positive aspects that you wouldn’t have paid attention to otherwise. Failing forces you to take a step back and re-assess the situation at hand so your second try is definitely better than the last.

In two weeks, I will be a University of California graduate only because I failed so hard in the past. When we fail, we can either lie down and feel sorry for ourselves or we can try again and do better than the last time with our new found knowledge.

Well, to me, the harder you fall the higher you’ll bounce back.

You can fail—it is only when you give up that you become a failure. No failure is too great to overcome. No obstacle too big. No problem to difficult to fix. Even though the outcome may not be what you expected, it could (and often does) turn out to be far better than you had ever dreamed.

It’s safe to say that I learned a lot in my time as a student. I didn’t learn everything, but I learned a whole lot more than what was on any of the hundreds of syllabi I got over the years.

Man. That’s a lotta trees.

So, to my buddies who are still toughing it out, still out there in the trenches of Wheeler, Pimintel, Doe, or any of the other educational battlefields out there, enjoy your time. It’s not about the grades. If you spend your time with your nose buried in a book, all the important shit is going to pass right by you.

Go out. Get hammered. Rage and study just as hard. Get shit done, but the only way you’ll get through it is if you remember that you’re doing this for you and only you.

The future will work itself out if you focus on being the best you can be right now.

E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

“And then we emerged to see the stars again…”

You may go through hell, but if you give it everything, you’ll come out on the other side unscathed and all the wiser.

You’re alright. Everthing’s gonna be alright.

Just because my time is no longer measured in semesters doesn’t mean the clock struck 12 and I’m ridin’ dirty in a pumpkin and my fantasy’s over.

I don’t see graduation as a next step—just a change of terrain. From kindergarten to Cal, I’ve been training for almost everything that could be thrown my way. Whether rocky roads or smooth sidewalks, I plan to hit the ground running.

My next goal: don’t eat shit.

It has been mother fuckin’ real, Cal. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

GO BEARS.

"A season, a reason, a lifetime"

One of my favorite (YouTube) musicians does something called “One Take Sessions.” Just one take. No re-do’s. Just one shot.

I’m doing a little spring cleaning in my brain before finals. Here’s a post I’m writing in a single draft. A long time coming, but just one take. This is partially due to time constraint (PROCRASTINATION), but mostly because I want it to be candid. 

Will it make any sense? Who cares? The right people will understand every word.

Four years ago, I was 19 years old.

Four years ago, I studied abroad.

Four years ago, I was lost, but then realized that I knew the way all along.

If you’ve read this blog before, you know how important study abroad was for me. It was my first year of college and I wasn’t where I wanted to be. 

The difference between being 23 and 19? I now know (and, more importantly, understand) that I am the only thing standing in my way.

I let myself be sad and feel sorry for myself the first 8 or so weeks of community college, but then I decided to make a change. I did something for myself. It had nothing to do with my major, had nothing to do with a career path.

It was just something I wanted for me. The first thing I wanted just for me.

Whenever I mention study abroad, people think about the stereotypical American student who wants nothing more than to get hammered and not feel guilty because what happens abroad, stays abroad (unless Facebook has anything to say about it). But that’s not the case! This was no ordinary trip.

Yes, there was alcohol. Yes, there was dancing. Yes, there was kebap. But most importantly, there was love. Genuine, whole-hearted, unconditional love.

We were there for each other in every sense of the phrase. Whether someone needed a shoulder to lean on when drunkenly stumbling home from Twice or Space Electronica, or if they just needed a really, really great, squeeze-you-so-hard-you-can’t-breathe hug after a rough day, we were always there for one another.

Before the trip, we were strangers. After, we are family.

Every person you meet does something to change you. Some people will change our lives forever, but that doesn’t mean you won’t ever say your goodbyes. Some people come into your life unexpectedly, but they could turn out to be just what you needed to finally start to become everything that you truly are and have always wanted to be.  

“Every person is a new door to a different world.”

We all see the world around us. We see that grass is green, the sky is blue, dogs bark, cats meow. But it is only through these incredible people in our lives that we truly feel and understand the world around us.  

Before certain people enter our lives, some things are seemingly insignificant.

Starfish. Feathers. Trees.

Some things won’t have meaning until someone helps you finally see them for the first time. These people help you on the path to creating a world of your own. A world that you’d be happy and proud to live in.

To my Firenze family—you made me see the sky. Some showed me how to truly feel the summer sun on my skin. Some made me see the stars dance for the first time. Some showed me that the sky isn’t a reminder of what I cannot reach; it’s a reminder that when I stop trying to simply reach the top, I’ll be able to enjoy the ride and see that I’m free to soar, to live in a world filled with an infinite amount of possibilities.

When I studied abroad, I literally had the best sleep of my life. I slept on a couch right next to our living room windows, and even though I slept like this every night,

I fell asleep knowing that if I were lucky enough to wake up in the morning, I’d open my eyes to everything I wanted.

I’d open my eyes to the azure, Florentine sky.

I miei amici, my Firenze loves, by falling in love with you, I was able to fall in love with me.

A very wise man, Mr. Danny Gamboa, told us that you meet people for a season, a reason, or a lifetime.

I love and miss all of you so much. You are all with me for a lifetime. “For this to never end.”

Four years ago, I was 19 years old.

Four years ago, I studied abroad.

Four years ago, I began to see the world in color.

Thank you.

Because of you, I see the trees.