I am etched into the soil of Marston Quad. My roots are deeper than the big trees on the edges (does anybody know what kind they are??). When the Pomona clock tower rings, it is not the music of the 2,350 pound replica Liberty Bell they hear, but my contributions in “Intro to Chicanx-Latinx Studies” freshman year. If I died right now, they would give me a commemorative stone way bigger than the one for that person with the weird last name on the access road the baseball field.
Yeah, I’m basically immortal. A lot of people peak in high school, but I am going to peak every day for the rest of my life, forever. It all started when I was admitted to Pomona after applying ED1 and coincidentally throwing a 95 mph fastball. Everyone here knows my name, and they’ve seen my face at all the Football House parties. Is this what it’s like to be God? Blessed, amazing, an eternal inspiration? Beautiful, lithe, often recognized for throwing up half my body weight at pregames?
Who could ever forget the time I raised my hand in a Philosophy class I forgot about until writing this, and asked what “autonomy” is? Who could ever forget when I had to meet with the dean 3 times because I failed Advanced Beginner Latin, among others? Who could forget last week, when I cracked someone while blackout drunk and neither of us really remember what happened? It’s crazy to think that there are 449 more people like me, but paler, shallower, more fleeting copies. I’m forgetting their names already.