| | It's time for a little carefree blogging. Actually, I don't know exactly what the proportion of this blogging will be. I need to type. I need to write something because it's Friday, I go home in five days, I'm going to a concert tomorrow night (Jars of Clay, I think I know one of their songs but it's time with my folks), I'm listening to a new CD, I've had a good week, and I just ate a spicy beef wrap. I feel good. I feel real good. Why not write about it? I was always told that my college years are the years in which I would develop into the person I am going to be. It's an interesting concept, and kind of dreamy when you hear about it in High School. For some reason, at the same time you are told you get become a true human in college, you are also told that High School holds your best years. A bit contradictory, but it actually seems to be true. I guess experience is the best teacher after all. In High School, you have a functional brain that is able to come up with what it believes and listen to who it wants. You're being challenged and discovering some things about yourself: likes and dislikes, favorite teachers, what you like to study, how much food you can eat in one sitting, what you're attracted to, what others find attractive about you, how to smoke, that no matter how hard you try you'll never be as cool as the Fonz. You know, the basic facts of life. The best apart about it all is that you have a constant sense of security. The majority of teenagers in High School have a home to go home to, and at least one parent there taking care of them. Others are spoiled and doted upon instead of cared for, and others experience neglect and need to be cared for more. Once you reach college (for a lot of people but not all) that security is minimized. You are on your own, and it can be kind of scary. Apparently I have been blessed. Whenever I meet students older than myself who have seen me around at various places but have never met me, they are always surprised to find out that I am a Freshman. "I thought you were at least a Sophomore" they'll exclaim. I am told, "You just seem so comfortable with college." And that statement is truth. I really am comfortable with being at college. Sometimes it does even surprise me. But at the same time, I have nights where I ask myself what I'm doing here and if I really think I'm going to make it. What am I doing out of my mountains, off of my back porch with my journal and a cigar, listening to the crickets sing with the silhouette of hills against a midnight-blue, star speckled sky. And here I am in this busy place with all of these people, traffic, crosswalks, and only thirty mouths that could tell you my name. Why am I on the fourth floor of this sperate planet placed in the middle of campus? The biggest symbol of capitalism in the city, with money poured into it. A ceaseless river of crispy, green dollar bills crashing down and leaving leather chairs, computers, and movable bookshelves in its wake. I read last night that Wendell Berry writes in a treehouse. I have experienced a lot of change in only three months, that's for sure. I can't name anything specifically, because I'm me. Other people are best at noting the change of a person. Change always interests me. It's a bittersweet experience and one of my favorite parts of being a person. One of my favorite quotes: "Sometimes a change is so constant that you don't know it's happening until it's all over." I've been listening to an album that I acquired in a perfectly legal manner that did not involve the internet. The whole album is amazing and seems to be centered around change and some kind experience with Christ. The second track is one of my favorites. It documents, in its own little way, the pain and anger that comes with change. "I used to be such a burning example, I use to be such a lucky one. I used to care I was being careful. Made sure to show it to the ones who I love... I used to pray that God was listening. I used to make my parents proud. I was the glue that held my friends together, now they don't talk and we don't go out." Sure, some of this pain hurts. It hurts to be on my own. It hurts to have a shitty mattress. It hurts to know I may never see some of the faces I graduated with again. Honestly, it hurts to make new friends. I feel like I'm replacing something that I shouldn't have to replace. It's all bittersweet, like I said. So at the same time, it feels amazing to meet and love new people. I have to admit that a big part of the change I'm experiencing is me and Christ getting a little closer. One of my best friends is reading Blue Like Jazz and he reminded me of one of my favorite lines from the book the other day. Don says that he doesn't know what Christianity is. He can't define Christianity for you, all he knows is that he has a relationship with Jesus and that he loves Him. That's so beautiful, and a large part of what I've been experiencing. When I was seven years old I went to this Backyard Bible Club. One day the youth were asked to give testimonies. I clearly remember one guy saying "Jesus is just... he's like..... well, he's like the best friend you can have." All of them said that, and even at seven I could tell it was some kind of stock answer. It has a lot of truth in it, even if it was uttered completely void of meaning. When people feel alone, like in the midst of a great change, we find something or someone to cling on to. This change has given me a chance to rely on Christ for a lot of things, mainly with relationships. I realized a week ago, while I was in St. Louis, that I have barely had any friends in my life. I love people, and I love to love people. I want to show people that I love them. But I realized that I have this serious problem with giving other people the opportunity to truly love me. I don't let people inside of my true character. There are three or four exceptions to this pattern in my life, but I drug a guy out in the hall and cried in front of him this past Saturday telling him "I've never had any friends". That's change. Hell, that's an epiphany. I'm reminded of another line from that album I mentioned "Jesus Christ, I'm alone again, so what did you do those three days you were dead? 'Cause this problem's going to last more than the weekend." I still have a lot to experience. I have a journey ahead of me. You want an example of my change? Here's one: I'm excited about the journey. |
