Moving Day

Well after much planning, and even more waiting, I'm finally sitting in an air conditioned New Haven apartment three blocks away from Yale's campus. From start to finish it took about two days to get where I am now. I woke up yesterday at 5am, about 7 hours earlier than I had been that whole week, and started packing up the car for departure. 6am rolls around and my parents and I start off on our 6 hour trip. We took two cars up, not knowing whether I would keep one here or not; so naturally I was left alone, which isn't so bad for a couple hours. By the fourth or fifth hour I'm holding full blown conversations with myself trying to keep myself awake. By noon (I'd be waking up around now usually) we get into New Haven to discover I wasn't the only one moving that day. It was the seniors last day on campus, which means 1300 students were trying to get out of the city just around the time I was trying to get in. After driving around for 20 minutes looking for a parking space, we finally found one. I shoved a fistful of dimes, one at a time, into the parking meter to get two hours and then we were in search of the apartment.

We visited my now temporary home and found it to be relatively clean (considering four male college students have spent the last year here) and in a great location. After brief deliberation it was settled that I would be moving in. The night went well from there, even into the next morning. Then the sun started to do its work, and the temperatures rose to 92 with not a cloud in sight. Living in the second floor of a house with no air conditioning when its 92 outside is one of the worst places I've ever been. I felt like I should've taken a shower ever 15 minutes; the rooms were at a place where it was uncomfortable to move and even breathe the air. In the midst of this I was given my first assignment, which could only be done in small increments considering my lack of focus. Instead I wandered around the city looking for grocery stores and a gym membership. It gets to be about 6pm and I can't take it any more, either I'm getting AC or I'm moving into the library. So I get into another (vacant) bedroom to find a window unit; I couldn't have been happier if I had found solid gold. Now to move it. First problem, undo six screws--check. Next, remove tape from all sides of window--check. Then, lift window unit and proceed to spill out half a gallon of water--check. (Side-step, clean up water spilled all over wood floor--check). Finally, carry unit into bedroom, install into window, screw into window sill, turn on, and find relief--check. So here I am, one full day down, and looking for tomorrow's new adventure.

Rome Wasn't Built In A Day...

But was it destroyed in one? It's been bound to happen since I started writing this blog--the ever looming failure and end of something great. Life is full of conflict and disappointment, and if I've learned anything this past week it's that you can't plan for a minute of it. In a mere week my life has done a 180, and everything's changed. Let's begin with last Friday when I begin writing my first paper of the many I have due at the end of the semester. I start writing a research paper for an English class I was taking, which usually isn't so bad. But, I didn't have a thesis, or really a topic for that matter, and the best advice I'm given to fix this is to start writing anyway. So now I'm writing a paper without knowing what it's about. Moving through the weekend where I somehow put together this English paper, now its right on to a religion final. This carries us through until Tuesday, when my heart's broken. Feeling alone, I trudge onward to Wednesday and Thursday where I still have three more papers to complete. In the midst of this, I'm realizing that most of the friends I have on campus are saying goodbye to me for the last time, quite possibly, ever.

So in one week, I have lost one relationship, written 40 pages of academic writing, and said goodbye to countless friendships. So maybe it took a week for Rome to crumble. What's left but to look onward and upward, as it's said. I have nothing left but to look to the promises in the summer and to leave the end of the semester to melt into a nostalgic memory, where I remember that I managed to write an incredible amount of work in a short time, where I became closer with the friends I still have, where I was given a chance to focus on my own goals. And with the beautiful weather (finally) here, I can look to the summer where I will have not one, but two internships. I will be spending it in New Haven and New York City. I will be working with one of the top literary agencies in the country and one of the top colleges in the country. Now if that's not a new, strong foundation I don't know what is. A successful city cannot survive if it does not stand against raging winds and terrible storms. My Rome may have been wrecked in a week, but let's see if I can't rebuild. And so begins a moment of reconstruction within my life; repairing the storm damage while enjoying the new and bright day.

How Do You Say...

Two words is not enough. It's not enough to explain what I need to say, what I feel. Two words only take a second to say. Its not fair that it should only take a second to recompense years. Years of support, of help, of sacrifice. You held me when I cried and woke you in the middle of the night. You picked me up and cleaned out my skinned knee when I screamed. You kept a patient smile on your face while I missed catching hundreds of baseballs, followed by a "sorry," and your "it's ok." You've sat through hours of questions about great and small. You've guided me, taught me, and been an example to me. You've stayed, never leaving my side, in my irresponsibility and my insolence. In my frustration and my anger, you've comforted. And in the newest chapter of your tireless support, as I falter in my stare down with failure, you stand up and stare it down. Not only that, you teach me how to do the same, inspire me to reach for new ideas, new plans--I'm not staring down failure, I can't even see it any more. You come with words that uplift and embraces that fortify. How can I diminish this down to a simple two words? Maybe it will fit in three.

Thunderstorms

I am not one for the summer months; leave me with the cleanness of a snow-covered lawn and the mist of exhaled breath. I'm in love with the crystal blue of a winter sky (and this from a color-blind kid). But there is one bit of weather, one little piece of the science of creation that I love most--thunderstorms. It's getting to just about that season and it always whips me back to childhood. I'm racing my bike against the blowing wind, black clouds are billowing overhead and just the faintest of drops land, sparsely, on my neck and arms. I'm riding on the cusp of chaos; risking the downpour that is imminent.

I suppose I have it backwards though. Your supposed to love the warm sunny days where you can sit outside and enjoy the view. Don't get me wrong, sun shining through the green leaves of a maple tree is picturesque, but it's not something to really sink your teeth into. It's nature relaxing, creation dreaming; having a taste of the impossible calm. But I still love my unpredictable storms; perhaps its the reader in me (or maybe even the writer) searching for conflict, for the real battle of life.

The looming approach of darkness is exhilarating. I love sitting outside feeling the pressure drop, watching the clouds move, nature is in motion. I am watching the world actively move. I am seeing the expanse of the sky summon its strength, show its own emotion. The pain and raw conflict and chaos of what the world is stands before my eyes. Then the drops begin to fall faster and faster from the battle-worn and bruised skies. It becomes a veil of transparent grey that covers everything. Then the heavens open for just a flash of time and I see the blazing glory of lightning. Followed abruptly by a crash and roll, then a low, resonant grumble. I can feel the deep vibration shake and pound my chest. And when I go to sleep that night--listening to the drops fall from the darkness above; seeing, in my dreary sight, shadows in a brilliant flash; hearing the sky speak to me in his earth-shaking tones--I know I am not alone in my anguish, my chaos, my passion.

Rockstar

Well this past week was spring break and instead of doing the normal go home and sleep for 7 days, I decided to put a little spin on it and follow up on some intern leads. So Monday was Washington DC. I went down to NPR (National Public Radio) and got a tour of the whole place; though a new addition has been added it is still relatively small for such a large organization with so many employees. I look forward to seeing their new building in a few years. It's a fantastic place with quite friendly people who are very willing to offer any information or help they can give you. Overall, I was really impressed with the experience. Being able to hang out in the nation's capital wasn't all that bad either. From there, Tuesday brought on New York City. The Big Apple, the home of the American Dream. I actually spent most of the day walking the streets, but in between these marathons, I had a some pretty important chats with a literary agency. If all things go well, I'll "hear back from them by the end of the month"--worst part of applying. Finally, I ended up in Baltimore on Wednesday just to take a little break from it all and spend the afternoon with my dad--great day.

After seeing three cities in such short succession, it's amazing to see how individual a "vibe" you can get from a certain city. DC give me a feeling of business, but it still clings to its older roots. As far as major cities go, it also has more of a southern aristocratic tinge than most. It seems to be presenting America, as a neatly wrapped (though confusingly planned) city that welcomes the average street walker. New York is more in your face. It's an explosion of culture, music, art, business, fashion, food--all at once. It's fast paced and fun. And Baltimore, well that will always feel a little like home to me; the one and only Charm City. The Inner Harbor is the place to be on a spring-warmed day with a little ocean breeze in the air. You have fun just wandering on the brick walkways without really even knowing why.

Aside from my personal musings of city "auras," the week was pretty great. Traveling to major cities, investigating new job opportunities, and have a good time along the way. All I need now is to be wildly successful (hopefully by the end of this month*) and I'll be a true rockstar.

Eureka

It's an interesting word, eureka. The story I've always associated with the word is the ancient scientist who was asked by the king to find out if the goldsmiths who had made his crown did so with pure gold or if it was mixed with another metal. The scientist wracks his brain for days trying to solve the problem for the king, until one day he solves the problem sitting in his bath tub. As the story goes, the man runs through the streets nude yelling "Eureka!" He used water displacement to prove what the crown was made of.

It's a fun story to hear, and one that tells of the moments that unexpectedness often shares with brilliance. It tells of the ability for man to overcome and problem solve. Although, it is also a story of science. It is interesting that eureka has become a word of problem solving, science, and math. It's really to express the joy of a moment of inspiration, but I think the story gets it right. There's no way the local poet is running next to the scientist yelling "Eureka!" right there with him.

I'm feeling inspired, I don't know why or really how it all came about, but it's a joyful and serious feeling; I don't want to waste it. So when I feel inspired I try to write, but let me forewarn you (it might already be to late), there is nothing great ahead. I don't think inspiration comes to writers like it does to the scientist. It could be that writers are not trying to solve a problem, but the problem. As exciting as water displacement is, it's not so exceptionally moving. It is a problem worthy of a moment of inspiration, just a moment. But writers, we deal with the problem of life, of human nature. This problem is worth well more than a moment. So in this, my moment of inspiration, I turn over another piece to the puzzle so it's facing right side up. It might just be a piece of the sky, not the most exciting piece, but still vital to finishing the picture. The problem is I'm putting together the puzzle without the box; I can't see what its supposed to make. I'm doing this blind and I only have a part of the border and a couple of sky pieces put together. I have no idea what I'm making yet; I hope one day I do. What I most hope is that all the pieces came with the box so I can fit in the last piece of my solution to the problem like those before me have. Those great 1000 puzzle piece works of Steinbeck or Melville. One more hope and then I'm done. I hope I get enough little moments of eureka to be worthy of answering the great question set before me--because, well, you never see a reproduction of a Van Gogh in a 24 piece puzzle.

Following the Leader...

the leader, the leader. We're following the leader wherever he may go. Problem is I seem to have found myself to be the leader.

A few months ago, I was speaking with a friend of mine and was voicing my need for a spiritual community among people my own age. After talking over what should be done, we came to the conclusion that the group would need to be created instead of found. And so, the long process of creating a group went into effect. After much planning we finally decided that it was time to see if there was anybody else who felt the same way (maybe we should've checked that sooner). Anyway, there was a lunch we promoted to anyone out of high school and under 30 to come and talk about the spiritual needs they were feeling. The problem now was, what if no one shows. Just me and the pastor sitting in a room surrounded by boxes of pizza. All this planning and praying, and no one else felt inspired to be a part of it. In reality, the expectation was that maybe five or six would show up and we could talk and get to know each other. It's nearing the fateful hour when we will find out how many people will actually bother to show up, I walk into the room and lo and behold 20 people are sitting in the room. I'm thinking to myself, I just walked in on a meeting, but oddly they were all quite young looking. I was in the right place, and I was sitting among a group of my peers--college students, young couples, young families, and people beginning careers.

Great surprise, but I didn't really plan anything for this. Now I'm stumbling my way through trying to understand what people want to get out of a group like this. Even more amazing than people showing up, they wanted to talk about their lives and share their need for support and help in their spirituality. Shock and awe. So now, I'm at the front of 20 people all from different walks of life, and I'm trying to figure out a way to make them all grow spiritually. Then it occurred to me, I'm not really doing anything. God himself has controlled the entire process, I'm simply carrying out God's plan. I am in just the same position as the people I was in front of; we are going to travel together in pursuit, searching for what God has laid before us. So the problem is not that I have found myself in the leadership position, but that I thought I was ever there to begin with. So carry on, my leader, for we will follow you wherever you may go.