Dad and I flew out of Grand Rapids yesterday morning and arrived in Seattle yesterday morning. It was a pretty long morning. I started a new journal on the plane and wrote a good six pages in it. Rainier from the plane…
Dad helped me settle into my room a bit and headed out. I should mention that I came early because I will be serving my residence hall as president this year. Nearly every minute since Dad left has been leadership training, eating, or preparing for Welcome Week—the half-week when all of the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen come in and we inject excitement straight into their veins. Busy, busy. But good busy. Busy with the really fantastic people in Hall Council with me. It will be a great year. Continue reading
The college search is hard for many people. Some lucky duckers know what they want to do and where they want to do it, only apply to that place, get accepted and attend. Others, like myself, have a vague sense of what they’d like to study and maybe a lead on a school they could be interested in. I thought that I’d like to study one of the liberal arts and I applied to eleven or twelve schools. Halfway through application season (January or so), I switched my intended major to music.
Some of my Christian friends have a strong sense of God’s will for their lives. Whether they use the phrase or not, you can tell they know—or at least think they know—which school God wants them to attend, what career God has prepared for them, etc. “God has a plan for you, and that is so beautiful and exciting!” This sort of language, although well-intended and true, confused me during my college search, and still does. The idea of ‘God’s plan’ wasn’t very comforting either, because I thought that it meant I had a one in twelve chance at choosing the Right School, and a similar chance at choosing the Right Major. There was a lot at stake and I didn’t want to screw my life up.
All right, close your eyes. Raise your hand if you think that sounds ridiculous and a little melodramatic. I see many hands in the air, belonging to agnostics, atheists, and believers alike. Oops, I raised my hand, too. Ok, hands down, hands down.
I still don’t understand the concept of God’s will, although I’ve learned that it involves a lot more freedom than I had previously thought. But I couldn’t see that in my senior year of high school. The fear that I could permanently remove myself from the Right Trajectory of Life added to my depression and anxiety, and was the cause of a couple panic attacks. I didn’t speak to anyone about this because I felt alone. Who would listen? Continue reading
Jobs. It’s all about the jobs. Gotta have one.
I really loved my first year at Seattle Pacific University, and the idea of going home and getting a job was offensive—not like the racist relative with whom you spend your holidays, but like the black beans you left in the fridge for too long, which now rot. Laziness is really what it was. My inner child sat on his chair in the corner screaming when he realized his summer would need to have some structure and—horror of horrors—productivity.
Reason won out, as it sometimes does. But what should I do? Barrista? Hmmm! Teach violin? Yes, but that isn’t full time. Physical labor? Nobody would pay me for that. Write a bunch and make a living off of submissions to literary journals?
Not easy, as it turns out.