There Comes A Time in Every Man's Life

There comes a time in every man's life when he gambles all of his prized possessions, in hopes of "hitting it big". In my short fable life, I've traveled the seas, dined with royalty as well as paupers, and been faced with more challenges than the bulk of mankind is put up to the test with in an average life span of seventy five years. From the elaborately decorated streets of Boca Raton, Florida, to the countries of Europe, to the glaciers of Alaska and islands of Hawaii, to the second floor of the Jack Nicklaus Children's Hospital, to the countries of Southeast Asia, to the land of Terps, to the exclusive country-club setting university better know as "theU", to the holy grounds of Eretz Israel. And now it is time to take my vessel to yet another place, a place of southern comfort. A place that I have dreamed of for the longest time, a place that Sports Illustrated describes as "the quintessential college town". Replaying the images of my life forward and backwards, I see a trend, a trend that is portrayed by a little boy decorated in either a powdered blue tee shirt, pair of shorts, headwear, or even numerous pairs of sneakers outlined with University Blue. In almost every image I hold in my possession, I am wearing something that features that "UNC" aura. I've always known where I wanted to be, but never had the resources until now to get here. For the majority of my life, with the exception of my birth in Long Island, I've been living in a bubble. A vision that only millions can dream about. I've been sheltered from the diverse offering of our humanity, with the exposure only to as Robin Leach would say "the lifestyles of the rich and famous". 

At the age of two, you really do not have any complex understanding of life and it is not until you reach teen-land that you begin to understand reality. So from age two to about fourteen, I was too dumb to realize that I was living in a fantasy land. I lived a carefree life, enjoying my youth and taking a part in everything. My days, depending on the season, were spent either playing recreational baseball, basketball or soccer. And when not participating in athletics, I would live in my own little world with my friends, having numerous play dates at McDonalds, Boomers and many other venues, on a weekly basis. I was too dumb to know that I was living in a fairy tale. However, shortly after starting high school, and having developed my own mind and beginning to understand the reality of this affluent town, I began to have an inner hate for this paradise.My high school although public would be best described as a private school. Based on the parking lot and the student body, one would think that it was a private school. A good portion of the students left their lavishing and overpriced educations directly after middle school in order to attend one of the best public schools in the state of Florida. It wasn't till shortly after the beginning of high school that I began to wonder what I was doing in such a place. For most of my high school years, I was a pretty well known and happy kid, but I just was not going to live a lie of life like every other student at Spanish River. One minute everyone is friends and the next your best friend is sleeping with your girl friend, no thank you, I will not participate in these immature antics. Lunch time at River was a perfect representation of Mean Girls. Each click had their own table and it was like a war, most clicks kept to themselves and would not socialize with other people in other groups, it was quite detrimental to my social development to be quite honest. I guess the analogy holds true, children will imitate what they see, and it was apparent that the way these individuals were raised was complementary of their behavior. 

Everything in Boca Raton seems to be one big competition, from who has the smartest children to who has the hottest significant other. When I was of the age of a young Jewish adult, I went to a splurge of Bar Mitzvah ceremony, and each one I went to outdid the other. Religion has lost its' meaning in Boca and has become a mockery of who can show their the richest and powerful. Parents must have spent well over $500,000 at some of the celebrations I attended, with their elaborate decorations and entertainment. In high school, it was a competition of who could take the most Advance Placement or rigorous schedule and get into the best school. Funny enough, all of my classmates were denied by the top three ivy-leagues and other highly ranked schools such as Stanford, so that game did not work to that big of an extent. I remember in class one time, I heard some students discussing their senior year schedule, and the first question that was asked is how many advance placement courses your taking, and then one kid with a smerk said, all my courses are AP. I just got nauseous and wanted to set these kids in their place. Still some of them may be going to somewhat decent schools, but no one is going to Harvard, Yale, or Princeton, and the ones that managed to find their way into the top-tier schools are not doing much, so their parents can brag all they want, but their parents actually hurt them by telling them that they are so smart and now they go to these big schools and are average students. Then the best part of it all was sophomore year when everyone got their car and the parking lot was beginning to look like an exotic car dealership, from the slew or Range Rovers to the rows filled with BMWs. Fast forward two more years to senior years and let's look at some of the graduation gifts, oh yeah that's right, breast implants for little Jessica. Now I won't lie, I was handed the keys to a pretty nice car, so I won't be that much of a monday morning quarterback.


Moving away from the superficiality that filled the halls of Spanish River, we move into my housing development. Now for some reason, my parents decided to move to a country club neighborhood and I've been living here for the past eighteen years of my life. At first, it was nice and all, with the huge resort style pool and two story gym, but now it's beginning to get really old. The people think there movie stars and that everyone should know who they are. They think there so much better than everyone else and are so ill mannered when it comes to interacting with the waiters, busboys and other employees at Woodfield. Never does a please or thank you come out of their mouth, just rude ass comments like "break a leg" or "what is taking so long, get my food or your not gonna get a tip". If there was not such a thing as the authorities, I would love to punish these people, just as I was when I was a younger rascal and disrespected my elders. There assed would be lobster red and there mouths would be stinging from all that soap and maybe with all of these enforcements, they would begin to check themselves and realize that there no different than the help or any of the residents that live in any of the subdivisions in Woodfield Country Club. The amount of wealth that occupies Boca Raton is unbelievable. Have you ever seen dog carried around in Louis Vuitton carryalls or sitting on Gucci seat covers at bagel shops? I mean, when there's a store called the doggie bakery, you know you're living in a fantasy world. And what's up with mother's dressing in the same skimpy outfits as their precocious teenage daughters, or with them not having one part of their body that is not artificial, it's like that song, "Barbie girl living in a barbie world", but there are plenty of Ken's too, and who knows, I bet you would not fail to find some fake Ron Jeremy who spent a ton of money on penile surgery just so he could have the longest schlong in Boca, it would definitely go along with the whole competition element. 

The last thing that I'm ready to leave is "God's waiting room". Boca Raton as described in a book is like a combination of an amusement park and waiting room for the old people. Every other street is occupied by a either senior citizen complex, nursing home, or assisted living residence. And you will not fail to see at least ten people over the age of seventy five in any restaurant, shop, or other venue in the Boca/ Delray area. I do not mind old people, but I mind their constant complaining and miserable attitudes. If I could, I'd just dig holes for them and tell them to go in, as cynical as that sounds. I understand that older people have little patience, but seriously don't choose to live in a country club community and expect to not hear babies screaming in the street. As it may seem evident from this composition, I'm ready to break free and enter out into the real world once again. Time to take off my Rolex, stash my Italian designer wallet and slew of accessories, and sacrifice my Lexus for walking and public school transportation, and I do not care one bit about giving these luxuries up as I'm tired of living my life in a bubble, that is so secured and negatively diverse than any other area. 

A part from growing up in a bubble of wealth and superficiality, I chose to continue my life with the same lifestyle. For certain reasons, I had to withdraw from the University of Maryland, although I tried to sugarcoat my anger and frustration by making lucid excuses for leaving, but now the truth comes out, and I chose to take a step backwards and return to that superficial lifestyle. The second semester of college was one of the worse times of my college experience, returning to the life that I lead in my teenager years, with individuals who I grew up, with the same faces but different names. Already frustrated for having to leave Maryland, I bit my tongue and swallowed my pride and entered Miami with an optimistic outlook and positive attitude. Halfway through the semester, I was begging my parents to let me apply for transfer to other universities such as Emory, Washington University, UNC-Chapel Hill, Georgetown, and Carnegie Mellon. However they refused as they wished to still monitor my health closely and told me to hang in there, be patient and things will fall into place, as any loving parent would tell their children. I gave it time and we'll they were right. Within time I began meeting people, including one of my first friends, who I met in my political science course. I was beginning to feel more acquainted and adjusted with the life and environment, but I still had that empty spot. I finished my freshmen year at Miami with an above superior GPA, but that came at the expense of a mediocre social experience. Coming into my sophomore year at Miami, I was really optimistic and positive once again, about expanding my network of friendships. My only endeavors were to upkeep my near perfect academic index and join a fraternity in order to repair that hollow spot haunting my mental skeleton. I rushed a few fraternities but after two weeks of spending time with these individuals I had no intention of pretending to be there friends, I was not going to relive my high school experience for the next three years. I knew what I wanted and none of these individuals fit the bill as cruel as that sounds. For fall, I was halfway amused with my social calendar up until about the first month in, when I began meeting more and more people, including four of my closest friends from Mahoney Floor 6. My weekends were turning into weekends of boredom and depression into weekends filled with excitement and joy. However, I still was not feeling that I could truly spend my final two years of college at this place. Over winter break, I received approval from both my parents and my doctors that if I wanted to that I could relocate to another university, meaning any university that my heart so desired. As soon as I got home, I pulled out the Kaplan College Book and began my treasure hunt. Narrowing in on universities that appealed to me and from that moment I knew that I've always been a TarHeel in my heart and that it was where I wanted to go. For fall semester, with even my turning point social life, I still managed to finish with a 3.94 GPA, raising my overall GPA to a 3.86. I had all the resources I needed to get into almost any university that I desired. I debated about turning my applications for UCLA and Berkeley, but fate spoke to me when I found out I missed the deadlines which were in late November. With a perfect GPA, three leadership positions, involvement in seven staple student organizations, I was the model student and I was confident that any university would want another asset such as myself at their institution. With that mindset, I turned in my applications to the University of North Carolina and on a whim for a laugh, I filed an application for the McIntire School of Commerce at UVA, which only takes about 10 students from out of state every year. Without surprise, I was denied, but I could careless, because a month or so before, in Mr. Valiente's MKT301 class, I received some of the best news of my life when I saw that popup that said "It is with pleasure to offer you admissions for Fall 2009 to the University of North Carolina". My smile lit up the room. However, I was facing a major deliberation. Between winter break and April 11th, 2009, my life at the University of Miami had managed to go from mediocre to beyond amazing. What could make for such a sudden change, you may ask? And all I have to A E ∏. Within the course of four months, my satisfaction level had been raised to the red line. 

It is very hard to leave such amazing individuals, individuals who I am proud to call my brothers, unlike the other individuals that I met in Fall, clones of the jocky, conceited people that roamed the halls of Spanish River and acted as I'll call them acquaintances at one moment and the next just ignored you, I was not looking for type of friendship. My brothers are all knowledgeable, down to earth individuals who come from middle class and upper middle class families such as myself but do not lead superficial lives. However one reason is not enough for me to continue the life that I've been leading for the past twenty, almost twenty one years. Coral Gables is limiting me from expanding my mind, not academically, but merely in a more social context. I love being Jewish and being a part of a Jewish fraternity, but I want to see that other side of the world. I want to interact with the next Gandhi, Michael Jordan, and perhaps the genius who will find a cure for all cancers. I want to taste different foods and hymn tunes in exotic languages. Not to mention that the campus life of Miami is almost nonexistent, and I want to be able to feel that school-spirit as I stroll across the lawns of campus. I want to be able to walk to a stadium and tailgate in the same vicinities, not a half hour drive away. I want to be able to celebrate my university's athletic victories, such as the reign as national champions in NCAA basketball, inside of the comfort of my fraternity house, not in some overly priced and plush club on South Beach. I want to experience college, that college momentum I was entrapped by at the University of Maryland at College Park that I've failed to lose desire for and accept the other offerings that theU supplies to thousands of contestants each year. I believe in fate and that God communicates with us. Two events in my life I can recall, one being the deathly accident that ironically saved my life and the other being this acceptance to UNC. I take my acceptance as a blessing, a blessing that Hashem is offering to me in order to show me that my life awaits in the blue mountains of Carolina, so I am taking God's test and letting my future lie on fate and destiny.For as long as I can recall, I've been practicing my businessman skills and as everything in life, taking risks day in and day out, and this decision is no different. It is with much confidence and excitement that I bring to the table all my assets that I know I will expand into a multi-billion dollar portfolio in these two years. An investment that will produce memories that are invaluable. With that all said, I'm ready to gamble, so hit me with your best shot North Carolina!