“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, than education, than money, than circumstances, than failures, than successes, than what other people think, say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company… a church… a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice every day regarding the attitude we embrace for that day. We cannot change our past… we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play the one string we have, and that is our attitude… I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it. And so it is with you… we are in charge of our Attitudes.”—Charles Swindol
In the past few years since I’ve left school I’ve developed such a passion for science, space, knowledge and understanding of everything. With my passions as they are now, I truly believe that if I had asserted myself in school, I could have become something wonderful and help to move the human…
The only reason my scientific inquiry grows by the day while being in a standardized system is because I go out of my way to actually understand why things happen rather than take them for granted. Fully acknowledge where he is coming from. Rote memorization should go out the window in favor of instruction that aims to implore, not bore.
I come to noticing some guy trying to motion for me to come by his side. He has a gun. Why does he have a gun? Where am I?
I look around and I am surrounded by light shrubbery, hot concrete and palm trees. I must be in some tropical country, huh. It’s probably noon as I am blinded by the dazzling rays of the sun. Gentle and unimposing, the warmth I am feeling was comforting. It was then when the guy with the gun caught my attention once again.
He was motioning for me to come, this time he is. Hiding behind a wall rather than standing out in the open. For some reason I can’t point my fingers to, I followed him. We were waiting for a long time. I took in the gentle breeze that passed by and the heat of the sun, which right about now, intensified and stung like a bed of needles. My vision became hazy, and that is when I heard a loud bang. The next thing I realized was that the gunman was lying dead next to me and a bunch of men were dragging me with them.
I opened my eyes once more. This time, I was outfitted with a red glider. Kind of like the ones you use to glide down hills as a a sport. Only I was not standing on top of a hill, but situated on a ledge located at a dam-like structure. On one side of the dam was a vibrant, resort-like place complete with swimming pools and bars, and people having fun in them. On the other, the ocean stretched out for as far as the eye can see. For some reason, the resort side was depressed about a couple of hundred meters from the ledge I was standing. I though I was to glide down the dam ledge and land in one of the pools. In my peripheral vision, I am made aware of some individuals staring at me. Once they caught my attention, I stared right back at them. Why do they look so down? What’s with the long faces, guys? No words were exchanged between us, and then I see my cousin D outfitted with the same red glider suit I have on.
“Hey, D, why do you have those on?” Is what I wanted to ask him. Like the others, however, no words were uttered between us two, much to my dismay. He looked at the depressed individuals sitting on another ledge located a little bit below ours, then looked at me. He seemed happy and content. As he fixed his gaze on the ocean at the other side of the ledge, I began to feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It feels as though I was about to part with something dear. Without hesitation, D jumps from the ledge. He glides across the ocean. He glides continuously, out into the distance.
I looked back at the people frowning and sighing on the other ledge, took a deep breath, and jumped as high as my legs would take me. At the peak of my jump, I spread my wings. Suddenly, I was gliding. I was gliding across the surface of the ocean. Raising either my left or right hand caused me to soar above the crystal mirror below me. I did this for a couple of times. I soared and glided along the face of the ocean until I felt no more. I stopped thinking about a lot of things. Maybe it was because of how long I was flying/gliding? I wouldn’t know.
After some time, I saw D gliding ahead of me. In front of him was solid land. “These are huge mountains!” I thought. But it remained a thought. I began to get scared. Where am I now? Where’s home? I want to go home. It was no use, for we kept inching towards the island that appeared in front of us.
We eventually reached the island. We took off our gliders as we landed. It was then that we found ourselves in the middle of a barren, decrepit land. As much as I wanted to fear, the feeling wouldn’t come. Instead, I felt a sort of nostalgia as I looked around, like I have been here a few times already (I suspect that I’ve seen the same place in my other dreams). Everything around us was old and decrepit: the grass at our feet, the trees that lined the plains. There was no sign of life, and if there was, it was nearly obliterated.
Something stood out in this grim, barren wasteland. A door. What’s a door doing here? It didn’t seem like a door as much as it did a gate. All I knew was that it had to lead somewhere. Where that somewhere is, I don’t know.
Afternoon crossing through the gate, I now found myself in a more unfamiliar place. In contrast to the dying plains I came across, this place was lush, vibrant. Well, not too vibrant. This plain was green. It’s like looking at the boundless ocean, except green. D and I kept walking, and we eventually ended up at a house in the middle of the plains. Some people came out of the house and greeted us.
These people were apparently part of the “Brown” team. Groups of individuals are assigned a color for their team. After conversing with one of D’s friends from the brown team, I learned I was part of the red team. How and why I ended up as part of the red team I don’t know, but apparently, I was.
The brown team’s function was to drive around the city (there’s a city?) To pick people up and drop them off at a location of their (the passenger’s) choosing. As I had no clue where the red team is and what they do, I ended up following the blue team around driving people to their intended destinations. I remember arguing with the blue team on which team did better work: the blue or the red team. This errand was nothing to write home about, and at the end of each day, we’d go back home to that house in the middle of the green plains. How the brown team ended up becoming the blue team, I do not know.
As we came through the gate, D and I naturally knew how to get back to the desolate wastelands. We did this using the other gate located on the plains we ended up at. One day, when we crossed over to the barren plains just to check out what was in it, we found a yellow bus-like vehicle (not exactly a bus) and right beside the bus-like thing stood my family. It seemed like we talked, but I don’t know what we talked about. The only thing I could notice was how dejected their expressions were. Anyway, we trekked through the barren plains, through the gate, and went home to the house in the middle of the green plains. The next day…
Today I spoke with a good friend I haven’t heard from in a while. It was funny because I imagined all this time would put a certain kind of strain in our relationship to the point that it’d be hard to maintain a conversation with him. I guess I’m just awkward like that.
Oh, but I was wrong. Very wrong. It felt like I just told him, “Later!” yesterday and then we were picking up from where we left off today. Should I feel lucky? I think so. I’m lucky there are people like him who exist and so happen to be one of my friends.
I’m happy. That’s about it. That single conversation just about made my entire day.