High school was quite dramatic story arc. If you look at it, it’s kind of a story in itself. It’s a story about how a random friendless kid went from being depressed and questioning the meaning of life to finding ways to run the school, having an explosion of fun, and going to prom with the prettiest girl in school. But in reality, it was just a story within a bigger story.
One other important event that happened during high school was the return of Ivy, Alex, Uncle Bob and Aunt Viv. They had spent the past several years in Spain while Uncle Bob was stationed over seas. He had just retired from the Navy, and they made a triumphant return to California, with the tranquil nature of the Spanish culture fully infused into their bloodstream. My mom and I once visited them while they were there, and Spain was indeed tranquil. I was excited to have them back in town, even though I would soon be leaving. In my mind, we were still very much like siblings, despite all the time spent apart.
Alex went to my high school. He was a freshman and found his own group of friends early on. Ivy went to the community college nearby with plans of transferring somewhere to pursue something along the lines of healthcare. They moved into an apartment about ten minutes from my house, and we visited them frequently. It was an ideal situation.
Little did my friend know that her question would prompt me to begin ambitiously pining that question. I had been discovering that our lives contain stories, are stories, and are part of a bigger story, and connecting with these stories and their Author results in a life really being life.
Over the course of a month and a week in Argentina, I would spend nights in my homestay without internet just typing furiously away my story. It didn’t feel like work at all, it was as natural as stream of consciousness writing is. When I finished, I wound up with over 200 pages on Microsoft Word. Single spaced.
What I had was my story on paper. It was a story about redefining love, rediscovering faith, and releasing hang-ups. It's a story worth telling, as is anyone's who pays attention to story in their lives.
In a culture so focused on facts and arguments, it's important that we don't lose sight of how humans really experience the world: through story.
This is my story. I'm just putting it out there. There will be some moments I look back on fondly, and there will be some moments where I will be very vulnerable with you.
I will be posting a bit from my story everyday. It's a long read, what I wrote. This will probably be a lot more manageable.
Thanks for following along.
The story begins on 30 January. Subscribe via RSS.