I'm still cleaning out my basement (see original post) and probably will be for quite some time. So, you're going to see a number of posts about the stuff I find down there.
A couple of days ago, I found my high school and college yearbooks. I've looked through my high school yearbooks many times, but I can't remember the last time I looked at my college year book. I only have one—from 1985, my freshman year, and what a difficult year that was.
For starters, I was way too immature for college. I know, most freshman males are, but in addition to my immaturity, I was also painfully shy—not a great combination for someone who is stepping out into the world for the first time. I didn't fit in since most of the other students lived on campus. I wish I had done that too, but for whatever reason, I decided to live at home while attending school and consequently, I never made any friends in college. I made a few acquaintances, but none that lasted.
While going to school that year, I also worked fulltime as a manager of a fast food restaurant and most of my friends were also my co-workers. So I lived in two separate worlds—one of which was friendly, the other of which was cold, and difficult, and unappealing.
I didn't make it out of my sophomore year. My grades were slipping, I still didn't fit in, and one day I just stopped going. I didn't tell anybody—including administrators at the school. I wish I had a mulligan on that decision, but real life doesn't offer such things.
As I flipped through the yearbook, I was struck by the photos of all the people who appeared to be having fun in the various clubs, dorms, sporting events, and campus life in general. I'm not in any of those photos. In a sense, I'm the invisible man—the guy who really is there, but never shows up in any of the photos. I'm not even mentioned in the yearbook, which is understandable since I wasn't involved in campus life.
I've taken that same track most of my life. I've sat in the shadows, quite comfortable there, but often wishing I wasn't. With the gentle nudging of a couple of friends over the past seven or eight years, I began to take a few risks and I haven't been sorry—even when I have failed to make connections with people. I know now that life is way too short to brood over failed attempts at anything.
The thing about my college yearbook that is most striking is the fact that I don't even recognize anybody in it. It's almost like I've grabbed somebody else's yearbook from a college I never attended. Although I must admit that I recognize the short-shorts and feathered hairstyles since I donned both at one time—but you can't prove it since there aren't any photos!
Seriously though, my college yearbook is a good reminder to never allow myself to retreat from people again.
