My college experience was going relatively well so far, and I was getting more and more confident that Santa Barbara was a good fit. I had Jeremy and Tommy both come up to visit me on separate occasions. I liked showing them my new life. I was taking fun classes that let me write compelling papers and watch Ju-On and the Japanese version of Dark Water. I lived on a floor with interesting people. Being on a floor with a lot of people who chose it because of their aversion to drugs and alcohol was interesting. Things of that nature were very new to them, and I saw a lot of people get drunk for their very first time.
One time, Tommy came to visit me during a week where I had worked a Ra Ra Riot concert, seen the jazz legend Sonny Rollins perform live, and played some songs at a thing called Guitarmaggedon. I thought about how well my life was going, and how awesome it was to be able to walk around every day and just enjoy what Santa Barbara had to offer: a relaxed lifestyle, mountains and ocean, lots of activity. I also enjoyed the independence. I had always looked forward to living on my own, and so far it lived up to my expectations. I was taking classes, making friends, and I was also in love.
I had a relationship with this girl who I mentioned when describing the best night of my life. It wasn’t my first relationship, but it might as well have been. I had never felt the way I felt with her. Most of the time I felt like I had gotten something that I never should’ve had because it was too good for me. I might’ve been in disbelief the entire time. Something felt very complete about it. I enjoyed every minute, and planned on keeping it going forever. It felt like every event in my life had led to me meeting her, and that now that we were together I was in the pinnacle of my own life. I can be pretty sentimental. I saved every movie ticket we ever went to. I constantly shared songs. I took way too many pictures of us, too often. It was amazing.
Then one day it ended.
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.