Graduation

Another 4 years comes to a close in a little more than a month. 4 Years ago a month from now, I was waiting for my name to be called. Finally they said, "Jamil Lumley" and I walked forward. I already knew that something big was about to happen.

Earlier in the morning, my brother showed up at UofT Convocation Hall and said, "You ready to graduate?" And I knew what he meant. See in my family we have a tradition of celebrating each successive Post-Secondary Graduation with an absolutley shocking level of immaturity. When my mom graduated from York, 10 years before, the crowd was halted by two young boys going, "Gooooooo MOM." and a 2-man wave. Amateur show. When my brother graduated from UofT 8 years before, there was some undergraduate laughter at my yelling, "Yeaaaa Boyyyyy." Good show, it was enough to have my mom give me the look. When my mom graduated from her Masters, from the University of Central Michigan, at a campus where we would never have to show our faces again, well, the responsibility fell onto my brother and I like that of convicts and civil servants during wartimes. We knew then to bring the pain. And so from our seats at the very back of the auditorium, we yelled, "Yeaaaaaaaaaaa! That's MY mommaa!! Right There" in the best American accents we could mustre, as she was handed her certificate. It was enough for my mom to give us both the look.

The morning of my graduation, my brother said to me, "You ready to graduate?" and I knew what that meant. This one was going to go down in the books. The late David Onley, previously of City TV, was our keynote speaker. I can't remember much of what he told us: Partially because I was sitting on the only wooden chair in all of Convocation Hall that had no padding (I have proof); partially because I was fresh off of my 2nd knee surgery and sitting still distressed me; and mostly because as I looked up into the rafters from behind the guest speakers I saw my brother standing there, and as he shot me a thumbs up and then proceeded to take that thumb and draw it across his neck I knew what was about to happen. An hour passed as they went from A through L. Finally they said "Jamil Lumley" and I walked forward. I already knew something big was about to happen. From the very back of the auditorium my brother yelled "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HERE COMES THE PAIN TRAIN!!!!" With 5000 eyes on him and 5000 eyes on me, from 5000 people in the building, I stopped dead on the podium, turned 180 degrees, and gave the leaning Deon Sanders 2 fingers to the sky and yelled, "TRIPLE T IS IN THIS!!!" The crowd erupted, apparently there are more than a few fans of Terrible Terry Tate - Office Linebacker. The head chancellor shook my hand and asked, "Do you know that man?" and I remarked, "I have no idea who he possibly could be." Then he asked, "Would you like to have him removed?" and my reply was, "My lord, could you have him killed!?" I flashed the peace sign to 2000 confused asian Management Student graduates who wondered if a photo was to be taken, and exited the building and entered the corporate world - both, through the side door.

4 years ago, I was waiting for my name to be called. Today, I cannot, or perhaps will not, wait for my name to be called. I'm working 2 jobs for the same company, and giving each of them 40 hours of attention. I want to pave a better life for myself, sooner than later, and if I have to do my unfair share, to get my unfair share, then that is fair. I'm planning to start a new life this year. So far, I've planned to move out of Toronto to Mississauga to be closer to my corporate life. I've also made tentative plans to move further west, to be closer to my personal life.

As I close in on my first 4 years of corporate life, and shaking off the lifestyle habits I don't think I could ever go back to, I must say that I've become largely more proactive with my own life. You learn very quickly that nobody will call you forward unless you do the work in the background that nobody sees to make that name worth calling forward. I suppose I can thank university for that. It's up to you to pass or fail, it's up to you to decide what goes on your transcript, it's up to you to decide how you will be remembered. But there was still something missing in this approach in University, something that took away from the lesson. Very recently I realized what that is. In my life, I spent a lot of time focusing on how I would be remembered. Which is to say, when I am no longer with the people who will tell my story, they'll have fond memories of me. It's a funny thing to wake up one day and realize that you were writing your obituaries instead of your memoires.

I did this with my lovers as well. Few of them have any complaints, not to brag. Few of them look back on the months or weeks or nights they spent with me and think, "He just took and wouldn't give." I made sure of that. I became very good at giving girls no complaints, no reason to hate me; but sadly, no reason to love me. No reason to want to keep this going. A few of them had faith that we could have lived on together. When I got a sense of that, I panicked and protected myself from the pain of possibly losing them, by cutting them free myself. I think even then I knew that I didn't know how to write memoires. I've written too many romantic obituaries, too many well wishes from across the wire, too many summations of the way things ended. Then last year I learned to fall in a love in a completely new way. And every day our story together either gets deeper or richer.

Ironically, she was the first person to test my new approach - not waiting for my name to be called. At times, I felt like it was a resounding failure, I penciled a few obituaries, but each time she revived me. Each time I wrote a summation of the way things have been, the love I once felt at a moment in time. Though worded to be impressive, they were never truly satisfying for her or even myself to read. Surely, there will be more to our story she would asserted. The story was just beginning, it was not yet defined as a comedy or tragedy. I was always obsessed with definitions, and she was always obsessed with my putting pen to paper and promising more words. Maybe this is why I perfer typeface and she the written word: I'm more concerned with being able to save and backup the words I've already put out there, and she's more concerned with knowing every word to come will have the same level of meaning as before.

She's a lot like me when she wants to be, she has written a few successful and unsuccesful obituaries herself. My greatest fear in life right now is her writing ours. I get so scared that I don't even give her the space to write our memoires in the past tense. I have valid reasons for concern, and valid motivation for concern. All the same, as April approaches, and as I graduate from my introduction to corporate life, my mode of operating is centered around writing my memoires. I feel at a point in my life where planning is losing its value and execution has taken its place. No more obituaries, no more planned failures, no more safeguards from being hurt. I'm writing my life with actions that will turn into words, not words that might turn into action. This is what will define or at least describe how the next stage of my life progresses.

Another 4 years will start in a little more than a month. I already know that something big is about to happen.