where we went wrong.

It's 10:35 PM on a Friday night, and while I could be sleeping, or leveling my character on World of Warcraft, or finishing the research paper I mentioned in my last blog, I sit here at my desk and instead decide to write for the few of you that actually read my pieces. First of all, I would like to thank those of you who do. It's really a great help to me when you reply, even when you don't have much to say. It's a great comforter for me (and any writer, I'm sure) when somebody takes the time out of their own life to read my material.

But, that's off the point I'm going to be talking about.

What I've been stuck thinking on lately is time. Time, and failure. First, I want you to try something for me. Yes, you. The one reading this blog at this very instant. Reach out, stick out your index finger, and point it at yourself. You are a guinea pig to this experiment. Now, look at the clock on your computer. Re-read this paragraph. Done? By the time you arrive back at this point, the clock has probably ticked to the next minute; that time of your life is gone. Did I waste it? Not necessarily, I'm just trying to prove a point. Now, look at your clock again, but this time stare at it. Come back to me when the clock has ticked again.

.. That took considerably longer, didn't it? Well, that's what we all feel, anyways. No matter the situation, whether it be waiting for a class to end, or a good friend to come over, or for a movie to start: time always comes to a dead halt when we acknowledge it's presence. We all, as humans, have little time on this earth. Or, that's how it seems, anyways. In the constant hustle of work, school, family life, or whatever else you may be doing, years turn into seconds and disappear like dust in the wind. However, what if we were to have a clock in front of us for our whole life? Out of the corner of our eye, if we were to stare at a clock every waking moment, what would become of us?

Would we live forever?

Of course not. I'm not stupid. I'm trying to put forth a metaphor for you, here. Our time is short on this spic of sand, and we're unable to escape it. You have to take what you need and accept what you get, because you won't get anything more. Today, I was thinking to myself: “Have I made more successes or failures in my lifetime?” I guarantee you, the answer to this question is always failures. Our time alive is built upon failures. Failures, missed opportunities, mistakes, unseen solutions. They qualify us for HUMANITY. Without failure, we would not improve. Without improvement, you will not grow closer to that wonderful standard we all dub “perfect.” If you don't need improvement, you must be perfect. Trust me on this, you're not.

I've beat myself up a lot over the failures I've made. In particular, this year. I was drum major of the band, for those of you who don't know, and that puts a lot of responsibilities on my back. I have to: know how to conduct, be able to keep an internal beat, know when and where the band is supposed to be moving, look good doing all of this, and on top of it all, keep a band of 80 or so kids from talking. Oh, the FAILURES I've made. Now, I'll cut myself some slack; it's not an easy job. The band of Arnold High is known for its rowdiness, each individual member is a faucet of energy that is very hard to shut off, but I remember my first real big failure this year.

Our first football game, we had yet to perfect our show. We were playing and marching three songs, and only playing the fourth one whilst standing in place. I had explicit instructions on every part, and I had them down to the bone. However, I was given a new instruction not long before we were to start: The flags would need extra time to pick up different flags after the third song. I would have to wait for them before I started the fourth. I was very nervous that night; it was both our first football game and my first time as drum major. Everybody would be watching me. The first song went smoothly enough, with minor tempo and sonority problems that are typical with an unfinished show. I kept my eyes closed, so I don't know what the marching portion looked like. After the third song, (our fast song), I was tired.

This is when I made the mistake.

Forgetting completely about the flags, I started the count off for the next song. As I was counting off, my eyes trailed down the thick white lines of the field, meeting directly with the bewildered eyes of one of the flag girls. A string of my heart broke. How could I have forgotten this? Even furthering my error, the shock of this initial mistake caused me to forget the beat pattern, leaving me to flap my arms about in the most wild and undiscerning manner. I had destroyed the last song, and I have never let myself live that down.

I almost cried after that event, I was so furious. From that point on, however, I went on a spree to improving my own abilities. I do not want your sympathy; I'm glad it happened. At the last band trip we went to, a trip to the national BCS championship game, we had a competition. Our band did poorly in the running, but I was proud of my results: I received a trophy (a very large one, at that) for best drum major. I'd done something I'd thought I was incapable of, all because of that mistake I made at our very first football game. Am I making this point clear enough?

We have so little time to live, we don't need to waste it watching to clock or dwelling on our mistakes. I promise you, it's a counteractive method. The clock IS going sixty beats per minute, and your mistakes cannot be undone. Instead, look forward. Look away from the clock and to the road that you are taking to your inevitable end. What twists and turns lie ahead of you? What roadblocks must you overcome? How can you prepare? THIS is called improvement. Take your mistakes and turn them from a negative to a positive, and you will therefore turn your life from a negative to a positive.

Now I sound like some sort of self-help guru. Anyways, that's all I've got right now. Thanks for reading, please be sure to reply to me. I read every single comment and I love them all dearly. Oh, by the way, it's 11:10 now. See? I lost all that time writing because I wasn't staring at the clock. Did I “lose” time, though? I more so see it as “invested” time. That seems a lot better to me, anyhow.