I got back to my dorm and my roommate was watching anime programs on his computer. I would only get more right about how quiet he was. He wouldn’t say very much to me in the future after this point, and it was a very awkward room to be in. I later found out that I was on the floor for students who didn’t drink or smoke. I didn’t mind since, for starters, I didn’t really enjoy those things that much, and also because if I ever wanted to, half of that floor was there by accident as well. I figured the school had a sizeable population of students who indulged in those things and that it would be nice to closely befriend people who did a lot of other activities.
One girl on my floor said she was looking for a church, and I expressed a little interest, hoping to find something like Ivy’s church. I went with her to this one place, twice, and it ended up being a bit more like my Independent Fundamental Baptist Church from ages ago. Besides, they didn’t have five services. They had one. And I liked to sleep in a lot, usually until one or two.
I spent the rest of my first week getting to know the campus a lot better, and going to a whole bunch of meetings. I went to seminars on relationships in college, on studying abroad, and on getting internships. I signed up for everything I possibly could. I had a constantly full plate that last year of high school, and I figured it worked then and that I should try it out again. I was basically Jim Carrey in the movie where he says yes to every offer given to him. I even found myself sitting front row at a Ralph Nader campaign stop when he ran for office in 2008. I went because of the novelty of going to a Nader rally, and figured it would be a funny story to retell. I sat back and was surprised to see he had some pretty serious supporters in the crowd. He also had a single protester, who I thought was the funniest thing there.
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.