I know, I haven't written in quite a while. My life has been incredibly busy for the past couple months with school, and three speech and debate tournaments. But I've done so much learning over that time, I couldn't bear not to share anything for a day longer. So here, I will try to tie together my endless supply of twisted and confusing thoughts together to give you something comprehensible enough to read.
In February, I attended my second tournament of the year. I was more successful regarding awards and rankings than I had ever been before. I was happy. I was excited. I walked away with two medals and a trophy. I didn't feel like I had failed. But I think the one thing that made that tournament really special was the fact that I had fun. As I've said before, I've learned this year not to speak to win, but to have a good time. It's just so much more rewarding. And with the people I met, the friends I hung out with, and the three hundred-something pictures I took, I had the best tournament ever.
The next week, my family headed up north for another tournament- this one just having debate, and not speech. I'm not even sure what happened there. It was a bad weekend for reasons not having to do with competition, and the fact that we got kicked off of the campus after lunch on Friday and had to crunch our schedule on Saturday because of a power outage really didn't help. It was an interesting tournament. I partnered with my brother. I broke in debate for the first time. I'm not even sure what I was really striving for, or whether or not I walked away happy.
Then this last weekend. I had what I thought was going to be my second to last tournament of the year. (Turns out we're going to the one a few weeks from now because of qualifying/partnership confusions.) This tournament... I was striving to win. I won't lie to myself. I was. Hey, the past two tournaments, I had broken in debate and three speech events. I was confident. I was probably cocky. I thought I could own this thing. Well, I broke to the first upper level in two of my speech events. Not nearly as well as I had done at the last tournament. I was disappointed, to say the least. I also broke in debate with my normal partner, which was just surprising (I was just sitting there with my mouth wide open for roughly thirty seconds after they announced my name before I started breathing again). And as I walked around on Saturday afternoon, having been knocked out of all of my events, and not speaking at all, I told myself that I was absolutely not going to ruin the rest of my tournament by being disappointed about not breaking. I wasn't going to let that happen. I was already having a good time. My coach was there, my friends were there, and there was a wide variety of other people I could meet. So I did. And after the last debate round that evening, when we were all just waiting for awards, I walked down to the cliffs that overlooked the ocean with some of the most amazing people in the world, and watched a breathtaking sunset. I realized right then and there that if I had advanced further in debate... I would have missed the sunset. And there is no way I would have given up that gorgeous sight- and all the pictures and laughter that came out of it- for a trophy. I walked away with three medals. That was cool. But more importantly, I walked away with the stunning imagery of a gorgeous work of God's glory. And that was unbeatable.
I think, all in all, over these past three tournaments, I have learned that there are way more important and pleasing things than trophies. Sure, they're cool. They're pretty. But they're plastic. I would much rather have friends, pictures, and amazing examples of God's art.
Despite all this, I will admit--I was discouraged by my last tournament. I moped for a few days after, glaring at my medals, and wishing they were trophies instead. I sighed while looking over my ballots, seeing the low rankings on most of my speeches, and the definite votes for the opposing teams in debate. As I looked at the tournament's official rankings for one of my speech events, I realized that I had placed third to last. Out of everyone. I'll be honest--that's kind of embarrassing. I've been working on that speech since the end of summer, and I'm one of the worst that competed? For a few hours, I was upset. I was disappointed. More than anything, I wanted to give up. I didn't know what on. I just wanted to give up. I was tired of not winning. I was tired of depressing rankings. I was tired of, in my mind, failing.
A few days ago, I was chatting with one of my friends. I'd been moping around for the past few days. I was sad. I was upset. I was disappointed. I just wanted to give up. On everything, really. It wasn't just speech and debate--it was life in general. I've been busy and stressed with a lot of things lately, and sometimes, it can be hard to take it all. I was kind of at that point where I wanted to go lie on my bed and cry really, really hard. As we spoke, I voiced my thoughts. I made it clear that I was having an extremely hard time moving anymore. I've always been ambitious and motivated, but at this point, I felt like giving up all the dreams I've ever had, and living a boring life, never accomplishing anything. I felt too tired to keep trying anymore. I was about to go to bed, but before I got up, they asked me something--I can't rephrase it perfectly, but in short, they asked me to not give up. "We don't have to win. We don't have to come out first. But if we give up, then we've lost. And we're not going to lose."
That night, I made the choice: I'm not going to lose. I have (Lord willing) years and years ahead of me in life. Endless possibilities of what to do with it. What waste would it be if I threw it away? If I decided not to keep trying to accomplish anything, and just sat down forever? I refuse to do that.
I don't need to achieve anything big. I don't need to come out on top. I don't need to be higher than everyone else. But the best I can do is not lose. And I don't know what constitutes losing anymore than giving up. My friend reminded me of this, and I don't even know how to thank them for stopping me from doing that.
I'm not going to give up on life. I'm not going to give up on my ambitions. I'm not going to give up on you, or anyone else. I'm not going to give up on speech and debate. I probably won't win. But I'm not going to lose.
This may sound like the most obvious, or even the dumbest thing you've ever heard. But for me, it wasn't. My friend saved me from making a lot of stupid choices. I only hope that you take the same advice. I don't care if you win. I don't care if you walk home with a trophy, or a participation certificate. I don't care if you get an A or an F. I don't care if you're a billionaire, or if you're penniless. But I do hope, more than anything, that you don't give up. That you don't lose hope.
I'm not promising it will be easy. I know that giving up is the easier course most of the time. But when it comes down to everything, it's definitely not the more favorable one. So please, don't let yourself do it.
I've got one more qualifier tournament this year. I don't know if I'll walk away with a trophy, a medal, or a bunch of pieces of cynical paper. But even if they're the most cynical pieces of paper in the world, I absolutely refuse to stop trying. I can fail, but I won't give up. Because that is the one level of failure I refuse to accept.
I will continue to have hope.
So you get out there and FAIL the very best you can!
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