The Naming of Things

At Oxford, there was often graffiti on the walls of the restroom stalls in the libraries. Not stupid stuff that you find in gas station and rest stop facilities ("Mayra <3 Juanito" or "Bakersfield sux"), but intelligent sorts of things.

I was at UC Irvine the other day, attempting to make a dent in this research essay before it made a dent in my GPA. The bathroom stall , while it's graffiti reminded me of Oxford somewhat, had turned into some sort of confessional.

One of the inscriptions read simply:

"I am afraid of failure."

Common enough. But I repeated it over and over in my head, hearing it in someone else's voice. A voice that, in public, was voluminous and confident, if not a bit outspoken - but in solitude, speaking to nobody but itself, was defeated and disheartened, and embarrassed. Maybe it was my own voice.

Recently I have come to recognize that I am prone to busy-ness. I tend to take on just a little more than I ought. I never though myself an over-acheiver. There is a certain concept I have of how an over-acheiver feels about herself, and I never had felt that way about myself, at least not consciously.

So I read those words in my own voice: "I am afraid of failure."

And I wrote a response, just as much for myself as for the girl to whom I was responding:

"Me too. But I don't let that stop me from trying to acheive amazing things."