Brandon
Figliolino
March 19, 2019
Number Five
It was the summer of 2012. I was twenty-two
years old, and I was feeling cool—shorts, a tank top, and sunglasses cool. I
had finished my undergraduate studies with a double major in political science and
an honors thesis in creative writing. In the fall, I was headed out of state to
pursue a graduate degree in fine arts. I was living at home, so I had plenty of
company, including three cats. Life was good.
Then the apocalypse came…in the form
of a financial crisis. The economy contracted once more, and the university
informed me that I wouldn’t receive a teaching assistantship or grants or
scholarships. The entire $40,000/year tuition was my cost to bear alone.
Oh, and as for housing? That was on
me, too.
I received this information in the
form of an email, to which I replied with a very brief, “Thanks for the opportunity,
but there is no way I could afford to attend at this time.” Being a competitive
school, they accepted my withdrawal and picked another student who most likely
could afford to attend. I had felt cool, but suddenly I’d been doused with ocean water. No longer cold, I was freezing.
How dare the economy crash! That
cheap university couldn’t even give me a little
grant! Oh, woah is me! I lamented to myself.
That situation left me in stagnation. My plans for becoming a
prominent writer burned like a banned book. Here I was, working a retail job, living
with my parents (now not so cool), without a real plan for what was to come
next. I was sullen and bitter. No matter how much I tried to ignite a passion,
the match wouldn’t catch.
This lasted for just a few months. Then, things started
happening. My supervisor, knowing I was not going to be leaving, decided to
work with me on becoming a middle manager. That manager position was in human
resources, which one day would allow me a chance to work in government human
resources, conducting research and creating policies towards improving equity
in the organization. In the winter of 2012, several public notices stuck into
the cold ground near quiet streets caught my attention. I started writing letters
and speaking out at city council and planning commission meetings. I applied to
a city committee. They declined me. I chose a different committee focused on
parks and open space. I was interviewed and appointed. That committee led to
another which led to three or four more, which ultimately led to an application
for a master’s program in public administration. That degree led to the
realization that while I have many passions, my biggest is in transportation policy.
Each event was a spark that consumed one log after another until I had a fire
large and hot enough to keep me satisfied and warm for many years.
Six years later, I find myself in a similar situation.
Graduate school has finished. I’m itching for new adventures. What’s next? I
think. I’m back in limbo once more, stuck between where I’ve been and where I
want to go.
Silly as it may seem, the situation reminds me of a character
from the show The Umbrella Academy. That
character, Number Five, and I share similar traits and experiences. In this
kick-ass show, Number Five is a twelve-year-old boy who time travels. That’s cool,
until he ends up getting stuck in an apocalyptic future. It’s worse when he
finds his family dead and no one else around except for cockroaches and a quiet
companion named Dolores. My family is alive and well (hashtag blessed) and the world isn’t on fire
(too much). Still, I relate to his feelings of entrapment. I know what I want, but struggle to figure out how to get it.
 |
| Number Five does have an adorable smile, when he does smile. Photo Credits: Netflix, 2019 |
Number Five and I both adorable, have glowing smiles (it’s vain,
but true), and we have difficulty finding a decent cup of coffee. Aside from
those commonalities, and our similar sense in fashion, he and I are also very
driven towards our passions. Five yearns to return home to save his family and avert
the apocalypse, and spends decades trying to find a way back in time (he doesn’t
have a DeLorean). I envision a future where I can put my skills and education
to use transforming how we travel throughout the world. To meet that goal, I
attend conferences, network with others, and look for any and all opportunities
where I might find influence. We’re both stuck but continuing to try. At times,
we both see some limited results.
We are both independent, too. Five tries to alter the future
alone. He thinks his siblings will get in the way. Being an American millennial,
I’ve been taught to work hard to achieve success alone. But Five learns that he
can’t do it alone, and looking back at 2012 and to 2019, I see that nothing I
achieved was done without a bit of help. My retail supervisor believed in me
enough to help me become a manager. My family encouraged and gave feedback on
my park advisory application. My former employers gave glowing reviews to help
solidify my place at a county government. Professors whom I admired helped the new
graduate school see my potential. My partner pushed me to continue advancing my
education when it felt overwhelming. Each person handed me kindling to use for
my fire.
In the months since graduating with my master’s, I’ve mourned
the loss of schooling, the people who came into my circle as a result, and the structure
it brought my life. I’ve been proactive, but it’s still easy to feel dismissed
as irrelevant when opportunities don’t materialize. There’s always the
potential a gust of wind you think will stoke your fire ends up blowing it out.
After a few months of reflecting though, I know what I’m doing is right.
Positive change doesn’t tend to happen drastically, and it can’t be done alone.
I may still miss school for the coming months. I may feel
frustrated when I don’t get opportunities to share my ideas and speak my truths.
It’s possible I could still express sadness over being stuck and annoyed that things
don’t come with more immediacy. But unlike Number Five, time is on my side, and
I have my own Academy of friends and family who will help me avert the
apocalypse, even if it’s just in my head.
In time, my fire will roar strong once more, and it will be because
I never gave up, and surrounded myself with people who give me the love and
support necessary to make my flame a fire.
Young Brandon could not time travel, but he did have nifty braces.
No comments:
Post a Comment