Pardon My Judgment
Often I go to the gym later in the day, after my classes and homework, as it fits with my busy schedule.
The other night, as I was walking back to my car, I passed by the campus’s soccer fields and sand volleyball courts. The weather was perfect; a slight chill after a hot day, and the sun was just setting and swapping roles with a hazy night sky. The fields were packed with intramural sports and kids sitting on the grass, just talking. The outdoor hockey rink had skaters and freestyle rollers, a couple of kids shot hoops, some girls formed a circle and played keep-it-up in the corner of the gym building; there were people coming and going, and I was going home for the first break of my day. I was relieved. Watching everybody, I felt an overwhelming sense of community and peace, matched with my sweet chest pump. The muddled voices and laughs reminded me of my freshman year, and it brought back fond little memories of being campus-bound in Arizona. Seeing people of all different interests and hobbies congregate like that, it felt like an overdue unification.
Clearly, I was being optimistic, and that’s not a bad thing. My freshman year, I wrote a paper on unrealistic optimism and the danger it brings. To assume that everybody is happy and getting along, playing games or sharing conversation with loved ones is reaching. What I witnessed could have been totally different from the truth. A group of kids could’ve been sitting together, but two of them don't get along; they're faking it. I was in a good mood, sure, but I took everything I saw as a glorified example of unity. While that's a pretty thought, that couldn't have been the case.
I think it has to do with my creeping negative emotions. To accept things as utterly beautiful means I'm dealing with some other grief, and I rather imagine the world is dandy. The world can suck, so I stepped back and gazed upon a moment of connection and serenity. Youth. Purple skies and laughter. Also cursing and ill intentions. Drug deals behind the basketball hoop and a guy getting handsy. But I made of it as I wanted to.
Morals are very important to me. I’m classic as I egotistically preach it to this keyboard. I believe in the good of man, and I like to believe others do too, but that is a judgment. My worldview is surrounded by generally good stuff. Today, I believe not much trouble exists around me, unlike other parts of the world. Sometimes I feel a duty to be optimistic or to bear curved teeth. My judgements come from within: my upbringing, the thousand people I’ve met in my life, and those quiet moments where I’m left thinking, alone.
It wouldn’t take much to shift this judgment, as after lifting the veil of optimism, I’m faced looking at a million things of different moods and human shapes. There is no doubt that on a perfect night, things aren’t so perfect, but I want to believe they are. Dammit, I’ll hold onto that if it makes me feel better. It would take a person to stop me in my tracks and say “Can I ask you a couple questions” where, as a God fearing man, I’ll tell him “Sorry, no time. God is good, God is great” and point to an invisible watch on my wrist and he’ll nod sympathetically and I’ll keep going, looking at the students and sky without entertaining a conversation about something that's good and something I believe in. I just go on.
