The Reasons Behind It All

I'm checking my e-mail frantically for assurance that I'm not fucked in a big way.

I had written to an admissions counselor at the University of Colorado [CU] asking for information on their community college transfer program. To my dismay, she wrote that entry into CU is contingent on demonstrating a high school transcript as proof of graduation. So, I wrote her back, asking for clarification on whether or not a GED was satisfactory, and if not, to what degree it would impede on my ability to transfer.

When people ask me why I dropped out of high school, I usually joke, "For the street cred." And to be honest, the reason I respond with a quip is because I don't know the answer anymore. I trust that I must have known the answer at one point in time, because obviously it was persuasive enough for me to risk flushing my future down the toilet. Yeah, I must've just forgotten.

One thing I do remember, however, was that I did not consider the possible ramifications very clearly. My naiveté glossed over the messy details of "But, what if?" and assumed it would be clear sailing from here on out. I did not consider, for example, that my high school counselor did not know what she was talking about when she said, "Employers and University admission offices don't distinguish between a High School Diploma and a General Education Diploma." Most importantly, I failed to truly consider my Father's words, "Don't you see, Gabriel? If you get your GED, nobody will take you seriously!" He was right, people don't take me seriously. And I don't blame them. My resume, with its highlights of "GED" and "Community College", spells loud and clear, "Fuck up until further notice."

When I tell people about my ambitions to study Political Science and Journalism [and more recently, Public International Law], I always get that "Aw, how cute, he has ambitions" smile. At first, I wouldn't let it phase me. I was arrogant; I knew in my mind I was most likely more intelligent than the person sitting across from me. And not just that, I was better looking, too. And shit, I could definitely bench more than them. Yeah, fuck them. With time, however, my house-of-cards arrogance matured in honest humility. And today, with a dash of insecurity, I will usually add, "But, it's just a dream of mine," or, "Of course, I've got a back up plan in case that doesn't work out [Which is a lie]." As if I'm apologizing for having dreams and ambitions, for possessing the inherent and overwhelming desire to tap into the deepest reservoirs of my God-given potential.

I can't, however, go through life apologizing for my existence. I'm not going to walk my days on earth with my shoulders slumped and gaze focused on the ground. No. Head up, shoulders square, gaze steady, that's how I should carry myself.

And hence, I've revived this "blog" I used to have back in the day [When I used to be cockier, hence the title "Messiah of Reason"]. It's a part of a multi-front war I'm waging against this God damned GED stigma I've created for myself. I'm going to use this as a means to practice my writing. More specifically, to become more effective in organizing and presenting my thoughts intelligently and clearly, so as to override your suspicion that I'm a fucking idiot just because I don't have a high school diploma. Also, writing well gives anyone a competitive advantage in the game of life.