There's so many of you.
Toliko vas puno ima.
(Laughter)
When I was a kid, I hid my heart under the bed, because my mother said, "If you're not careful, someday someone's going to break it." Take it from me: Under the bed is not a good hiding spot. I know because I've been shot down so many times, I get altitude sickness just from standing up for myself. But that's what we were told. "Stand up for yourself." And that's hard to do if you don't know who you are. We were expected to define ourselves at such an early age, and if we didn't do it, others did it for us. Geek. Fatty. Slut. Fag.
Kada sam bio dijete, skrivao sam srce ispod kreveta, jer je moja majka rekla, "Ako ne budeš pazio, netko će ti ga jednog dana slomiti." Vjerujte mi. Ispod kreveta nije dobro mjesto za skrivanje. Znam to jer sam odbijen toliko puta da dobijam visinsku bolest kada se zauzmem za sebe. Ali to je ono što nam kažu. Zauzmite se za sebe. A to je teško učiniti ako ne znate tko ste. Od nas se očekivalo da definiramo sebe u tako ranoj dobi, i ako mi to nismo učinili, drugi to učine za nas. Štreber. Debeljuca. Drolja. Peder.
And at the same time we were being told what we were, we were being asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I always thought that was an unfair question. It presupposes that we can't be what we already are. We were kids.
I za to vrijeme dok su nam govorili što smo, pitali su nas, "Što želite biti kad odrastete?" Uvijek sam mislio kako je to nepošteno pitanje. To je pretpostavka da ne možemo biti ono što već jesmo. Bili smo djeca.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man. I wanted a registered retirement savings plan that would keep me in candy long enough to make old age sweet.
Kada sam bio dijete, htio sam biti muškarac. Htio sam plan za štednju za mirovinu koji će me održati bogatim dovoljno dugo da mi starost bude slatka.
(Laughter)
Kada sam bio dijete, htio sam se brijati.
When I was a kid, I wanted to shave. Now, not so much.
Sada, ne toliko.
(Laughter)
When I was eight, I wanted to be a marine biologist. When I was nine, I saw the movie "Jaws," and thought to myself, "No, thank you."
Kada sam imao osam godina htio sam biti morski biolog. Kada sam imao devet godina, vidio sam film "Ralje", i pomislio sam: "Ne, hvala."
(Laughter)
I kada sam imao deset, rečeno mi je da su moji roditelji otišli jer me nisu željeli.
And when I was 10, I was told that my parents left because they didn't want me. When I was 11, I wanted to be left alone. When I was 12, I wanted to die. When I was 13, I wanted to kill a kid. When I was 14, I was asked to seriously consider a career path.
Kad sam imao 11, htio sam da me ostave na miru. Kad sam imao 12, htio sam umrijeti. Kad sam imao 13, htio sam ubiti dječaka. Kada sam imao 14, tražili su od mene da ozbiljno razmišljam o karijeri.
I said, "I'd like to be a writer."
Rekao sam da želim biti pisac.
And they said, "Choose something realistic."
Rekli su odaberi nešto realistično.
So I said, "Professional wrestler."
Pa sam rekao: "Profesionalni hrvač."
And they said, "Don't be stupid."
I rekli su: "Ne budi glup."
See, they asked me what I wanted to be, then told me what not to be.
Vidite, pitali su me što želim biti, onda mi rekli što da ne budem.
And I wasn't the only one. We were being told that we somehow must become what we are not, sacrificing what we are to inherit the masquerade of what we will be. I was being told to accept the identity that others will give me.
I ja nisam bio jedini. Govorili su nam da nekako moramo postati ono što nismo, žrtvujući ono što jesmo da naslijedimo pretvaranje onoga što ćemo biti. Rekli su mi da prihvatim identitet koji će mi drugi dati.
And I wondered, what made my dreams so easy to dismiss? Granted, my dreams are shy, because they're Canadian.
I pitao sam se, što čini moje snove takvima da ih mogu odbaciti? Priznajem, moji snovi su stidljivi, jer su kanadski. (Smijeh)
(Laughter)
My dreams are self-conscious and overly apologetic. They're standing alone at the high school dance, and they've never been kissed. See, my dreams got called names too. Silly. Foolish. Impossible. But I kept dreaming. I was going to be a wrestler. I had it all figured out. I was going to be The Garbage Man.
Moji snovi su samosvjesni i previše se ispričavaju. Stoje sami na plesu u srednjoj školi, i nikad nisu poljubljeni. Vidite, moji snovi su također nazivani imenima. Blesavi, luckasti, nemogući. Ali nastavljao sam sanjati. Planirao sam biti hrvač. Sve sam isplanirao. Planirao sam biti Smetlar.
(Laughter)
Moj završavajući potez bio bi Drobilica smeća.
My finishing move was going to be The Trash Compactor. My saying was going to be, "I'm taking out the trash!"
Moja uzrečica bila bi: "Iznosim smeće!"
(Laughter)
(Smijeh) (Pljesak)
(Applause)
I onda je ovaj tip, Duke "Kontejner" Droese,
And then this guy, Duke "The Dumpster" Droese, stole my entire shtick.
ukrao moju čitavu točku.
(Laughter)
I was crushed, as if by a trash compactor.
Bio sam zdrobljen, kao u drobilici smeća.
(Laughter)
Pomislio sam "Što sad? Gdje da se okrenem?"
I thought to myself, "What now? Where do I turn?"
Poetry.
Poezija.
(Laughter)
Like a boomerang, the thing I loved came back to me. One of the first lines of poetry I can remember writing was in response to a world that demanded I hate myself. From age 15 to 18, I hated myself for becoming the thing that I loathed: a bully.
Kao bumerang, stvar koju volim vratila mi se. Jedna od prvih strofa kojih se sjećam da sam napisao je bila u odgovor na svijet koji je tražio da se mrzim. Od 15. do 18. godine mrzio sam se jer sam postao stvar koju sam prezirao: nasilnik.
When I was 19, I wrote, "I will love myself despite the ease with which I lean toward the opposite."
Kada sam imao 19, napisao sam, "Voljet ću se unatoč lakoći kojom naginjem prema suprotnom."
Standing up for yourself doesn't have to mean embracing violence.
Zauzeti se za sebe ne mora značiti prigrliti nasilje.
When I was a kid, I traded in homework assignments for friendship, then gave each friend a late slip for never showing up on time, and in most cases, not at all. I gave myself a hall pass to get through each broken promise. And I remember this plan, born out of frustration from a kid who kept calling me "Yogi," then pointed at my tummy and said, "Too many picnic baskets." Turns out it's not that hard to trick someone, and one day before class, I said, "Yeah, you can copy my homework," and I gave him all the wrong answers that I'd written down the night before. He got his paper back expecting a near-perfect score, and couldn't believe it when he looked across the room at me and held up a zero. I knew I didn't have to hold up my paper of 28 out of 30, but my satisfaction was complete when he looked at me, puzzled, and I thought to myself, "Smarter than the average bear, motherfucker."
Kad sam bio dječak, mjenjao sam zadaću za prijateljstvo, i onda dao ispričnicu za kašnjenje svakom prijatelju jer se nisu pojavljivali na vrijeme, i u većni slučajeva nisu se pojavili uopće. Dao sam si propusnice da prođem kroz svako prekršeno obećanje. I sjećam se tog plana, rođenog iz frustracije zbog dječaka koji me stalno zvao "Yogi", a zatim pokazao na moj trbuh i rekao: "Previše košara za piknik". Ispada da nije teško nekog prevariti, i jednog dana prije predavanja, rekao sam, "Da, možeš prepisati moju zadaću." i dao sam mu sve netočne odgovore koje sam napisao noć prije. Dobio je svoju zadaću natrag očekujući gotovo savršenu ocjenu, i nije mogao vjerovati kada me pogledao i pokazao mi papir sa nulom. Znao sam da mu ne moram pokazati moj papir sa 28 od 30 točnih odgovora, ali moje zadovoljstvo bilo je potpuno kada me pogledao, zbunjen i pomislio sam "Pametniji od prosječnog medvjeda, jebivjetre."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh) (Pljesak)
(Applause)
To sam ja.
This is who I am. This is how I stand up for myself.
Tako se zauzimam za sebe.
When I was a kid, I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing. I thought they were both pork chops. My grandmother thought it was cute, and because they were my favorite, she let me keep doing it. Not really a big deal. One day, before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees, I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body. I didn't want to tell my grandmother because I was scared I'd get in trouble for playing somewhere I shouldn't have been. The gym teacher noticed the bruise, and I got sent to the principal's office. From there, I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home. I saw no reason to lie. As far as I was concerned, life was pretty good. I told her, whenever I'm sad, my grandmother gives me karate chops.
Kad sam bio dječak, mislio sam da su svinjski odresci i karate udarci ista stvar. (karate chops = udarci; pork chops = odresci) Mislio sam da su oboje odresci. I zato što je moja baka mislila da je slatko i zato što su mi bili najdraži, pustila me da to radim. Nije velika stvar. Jednog dana, prije nego sam shvatio da debela djeca nisu napravljena da se penju na drveće, pao sam s drveta i ozlijedio desnu stranu svog tijela. Nisam htio reći baki za to jer sam se bojao da ću upasti u nevolje jer sam se igrao negdje gdje nisam smio. Par dana poslije, moj učitelj tjelesnog primjetio je masnicu, i poslali su me u ravnateljev ured. Odande su me poslali u još jednu malu sobu sa jako ljubaznom gospođom koja me pitala svašta o mom životu kod kuće. Nisam vido razloga da lažem. Što se mene ticalo, život je bio poprilično dobar. Rekao sam joj, kad god sam tužan, baka mi daje karate udarce.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
This led to a full-scale investigation, and I was removed from the house for three days, until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises. News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school, and I earned my first nickname: Porkchop. To this day, I hate pork chops.
Ovo je dovelo do prave istrage, i odveli su me od kuće na tri dana, dok me napokon nisu pitali kako sam dobio masnice. Vijesti o ovoj maloj luckastoj priči brzo su se proširile po školi, i zaradio sam svoj prvi nadimak: Odrezak. Do ovog dana mrzim odreske.
I'm not the only kid who grew up this way, surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones, as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us, that we'd be lonely forever, that we'd never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their toolshed. So broken heartstrings bled the blues, and we tried to empty ourselves so we'd feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone, that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away, that there's no way for it to metastasize; it does.
Nisam jedini klinac koji je ovako odrastao, okružen ljudima koji su spominjali onu rimu o drvlju i kamenju, kao da slomljene kosti bole više od imena kojima su nas zvali, a zvali su nas svima. Tako da smo odrasli vjerujući da se u nas nitko neće zaljubiti, da ćemo zauvijek biti usamljeni, da nikad nećemo upoznati nekoga zbog koga ćemo se osjećati da je sunce nešto što su izradili za nas u svojoj alatnici. Slomljene strune srca su krvarile blues, i pokušali smo se isprazniti kako ne bi osjećali ništa. Nemojte mi reći da to boli manje od slomljene kosti, da urasli život kirurzi mogu jednostavno odsjeći, da nema šanse da to metastazira, to se događa. Imala je osam godina,
She was eight years old, our first day of grade three when she got called ugly. We both got moved to the back of class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls were a battleground. We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. We used to stay inside for recess, because outside was worse. Outside, we'd have to rehearse running away, or learn to stay still like statues, giving no clues that we were there. In grade five, they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read, "Beware of dog."
prvi dan trećeg razreda kad su je nazvali ružnom. Oboje su nas premjestili u stražnji dio razreda kako nas ne bi bombardirali papirićima. Ali školski hodnici su bili bojište. Bili smo nadjačani dan za prokletim danom. Ostajali smo unutra za vrijeme odmora, jer vani je bilo gore. Vani smo morali vježbati bježanje, ili ostati mirni kao kipovi da ne primjete da smo tamo. U petom razredu zalijepili su znak na prednju stranu njenog stola na kojem je pisalo, "Čuvaj se psa".
To this day, despite a loving husband, she doesn't think she's beautiful, because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face. Kids used to say, "She looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldn't quite get the job done." And they'll never understand that she's raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word "Mom," because they see her heart before they see her skin, because she's only ever always been amazing.
Do dana današnjeg, unatoč mužu koji je voli, ona ne vjeruje da je prekrasna zbog madeža koji zauzima nešto manje od pola njenog lica. Djeca su govorila: "Izgleda poput krivog odgovora koji je netko pokušao obrisati, ali nije do kraja uspio." I nikad neće shvatiti da ona odgaja dvoje djece čija definicija ljepote započinje riječju: "Mama", jer oni vide njeno srce prije nego vide njenu kožu, jer ona je jedino ikad bila zadivljujuća.
He was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree, adopted, not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy, started therapy in eighth grade, had a personality made up of tests and pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs, four-fifths suicidal, a tidal wave of antidepressants, and an adolescent being called "Popper," one part because of the pills, 99 parts because of the cruelty. He tried to kill himself in grade 10 when a kid who could still go home to Mom and Dad had the audacity to tell him, "Get over it." As if depression is something that could be remedied by any of the contents found in a first-aid kit.
On je bio slomljena grana nasađena na drugačije obiteljsko drvo, posvojen, ne zato što su njegovi roditelji htjeli drugačiju sudbinu. Imao je tri godine kada je postao mješano piće od jednog dijela napuštenosti i dva dijela tragedije, počeo je s terapijom u osmom razredu, imao osobnost osmišljenu od testova i pilula, živio kao da su uzbrdice planine i da su nizbrdice litice, četiri petine suicidalan, plimni val antidepresiva, adolescencija u kojoj su ga zvali "Kljukaš", jednim dijelom zbog tableta, 99 dijelova zbog okrutnosti. Pokušao se ubiti u 10. razredu kada mu je dječak koji je još mogao otići kući mami i tati imao petlje reći mu: "Preboli to." Kao da je depresija nešto što se može izliječiti bilo kojim predmetom iz prve pomoći.
To this day, he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends, could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moment before it's about to fall, and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration, he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes being drug-free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity.
Do ovog dana on je štapin dinamita koji gori s obje strane, može opisati u detalj kako se nebo savija u trenutku prije nego padne, i iako ga vojska prijatelja zove inspiracijom, on ostaje tema razgovora među ljudima koji ga ne mogu razumjeti da biti bez droga ima manje veze sa ovisnošću i više sa zdravom pameću.
We weren't the only kids who grew up this way. To this day, kids are still being called names. The classics were "Hey, stupid," "Hey, spaz." Seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year. And if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear, do they make a sound? Are they just background noise from a soundtrack stuck on repeat, when people say things like, "Kids can be cruel." Every school was a big top circus tent, and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers, from clowns to carnies, all of these miles ahead of who we were. We were freaks -- lobster-claw boys and bearded ladies, oddities juggling depression and loneliness, playing solitaire, spin the bottle, trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal, but at night, while the others slept, we kept walking the tightrope. It was practice, and yes, some of us fell.
Nismo jedina djeca koja su odrasla na ovaj način. Do danas djecu nazivaju imenima. Klasični su bili "Hej glupane."; "Hej šmokljo." Čini se da svaka škola ima arsenal imena koji se osvježava svake godine, i ako se dijete slomi u školi i svi odaberu da ne čuju, da li napravi zvuk? Jesu li oni samo pozadinska buka na zvučnoj traci zaglavljenoj na ponavljanju stvari kao: "Djeca mogu biti okrutna." Svaka škola je bila veliki cirkuski šator, sa hijerarhijom koja je išla od akrobata do krotitelja lavova, od klauna do radnika, svih koji su miljama ispred onoga što smo bili mi. Bili smo nakaze -- dječak s kljieštima umjesto ruku i bradate dame, čudnovatosti koje žongliraju depresiju i samoću, igraju solitaire, zavrti bocu, pokušavajući poljubiti ranjene dijelove sebe i zaliječiti se, ali noću, dok su drugi spavali, mi smo nastavljali hodati po žici. To je bila vježba, i da, neki od nas su pali.
But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris left over when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be, and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror, look a little closer, stare a little longer, because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself, "They were wrong." Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a clique. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show-and-tell, but never told, because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it? You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong. Why else would we still be here?
Ali želim im reći da je sve ovo samo krš koji ostaje nakon što napokon odlučimo zdrobiti sve stvari koje smo mislili da smo bili, i ako ne vidite ništa prekrasno na sebi, nađite bolje zrcalo, pogledajte bliže, buljite duže, jer u vama postoji nešto što vas je tjeralo da pokušavate unatoč tome što su vam svi govorili da odustanete. Izgradili ste gips oko svog slomljenog srca i sami ga potpisali. Potpisali ste ga, "Oni su bili u krivu". Jer možda niste pripradali grupi ili kliki. Možda su vas birali zadnje za košarku ili sve. Možda ste donosili masnice i slomljene zube za pokazivanje na satu, ali nikad niste rekli, jer kako da stojite na tlu, držite crtu, kad vas svi pokušavaju zakopati pod zemlju? Morate vjerovati da su bili u krivu. Moraju biti u krivu. Zašto biste inače bili tu?
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on some highway, and if in some way we are, don't worry. We only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It, not the faded echoes of voices crying out, "Names will never hurt me." Of course they did.
Odrasli smo učeći da navijamo za one s manjim šansama jer smo vidjeli sebe u njima. Potječemo iz korijena zasađenog u uvjerenju da nisamo ono čime su nas nazivali. Mi nismo napušteni auti koji su zapeli i stoje prazni na nekoj cesti, a i ako jesmo na neki način, ne brinite. Samo smo izašli da odemo po gorivo. Mi smo maturanti iz razreda "Uspjeli smo", ne izbljedjela jeka glasova koji vciču, "Imena me nikad neće povrijediti." Naravno da jesu.
But our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
Ali naši životi će uvijek nastaviti biti točka ravnoteže koja ima manje veze sa boli a više veze s ljepotom.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)