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Rock Street, San Francisco

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to continue in spite of fear.” That’s what I did today when I went to class despite it being 94 degrees and sunny. Not to be over dramatic, but I think I deserve some type of medal/award for this performance, and I’m not ruling out a Purple Heart. What I did today was nothing short of heroic. I almost had a heat stroke walking to class. My mind said stop but my heart wouldn’t let me. I hauled myself across the treacherous tundra of Roxbury, just to get attendance points for my Elementary Spanish class. That’s me being a global citizen. Doing my part to make the world more connected. I know because of my efforts, the next time I encounter a Spanish speaking person, I can tell them the days of the week, and maybe even tell them the time. Just continuously adding tools to my swiss army knife of positive traits and marketable skills. Never stop not stopping. You can’t teach that type of dedication. You can’t teach heart.

That’s what separates me from the rest of the population. I was going to go to the beach today, but then I remembered beaches don’t have wifi, and I can’t deliver the truth without wifi. The truth never sleeps. The internet doesn’t stop. Passion doesn’t call out sick. I don’t take days off. You know who takes days off? Dead people. Can’t afford to take days off with a life like this. What if I had taken a day off when a massive brawl happened in my driveway? What if I took a day off when Weymouth John’s mom (who randomly happens to be a lawyer) emailed me threatening to sue me because her son admitted to being a gay prostitute in my interview? I don’t know what would have happened because I was out here in the trenches. Writing 1000 word blogs during class. Doing food challenges so extreme that my mom made me promise that I would never do that again. Not all heroes wear capes, but I do wear spy googles.

I’m not going to lie, I almost gave up today. I almost threw in the towel. Upon leaving my house, I realized the Tom Brady jersey I was wearing had a strong stench of stale four loko and other various alcohols that I could not pin point. Who would have thought the jersey I grabbed from the bottom of a pile of clothes under my bed would be dirty? That’s just a roadblock that no one could have predicted. God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers. Nevertheless, I persisted. Me smelling like week old malt liquor is not a huge issue for me. That’s my sweat spot. I live and breathe stale alcohol. Its really only a problem for the girl who sits next to me. Whatever. Adapt or die.

So no, I don’t think its asking that much to get a Medal of Honor for going to class today. I overcame wearing dirty clothes and conquered a sweaty back, all for the opportunity to learn some more basic Spanish. Yo soy un Jackhammer.

Post Author: timmccue191

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