Time Capsule

'Cause this is the next best thing from a physical time capsule, right? Accessible and open to the (semi) public - even for at least one reader in Bulgaria and one from China. Much thanks to whoever you are. I hope you feel welcome to comment and tell me what you think.

I've been 21 for four hours and fifteeen minutes now and, with a team of rag tags, hit a bar that I imagined would be much more spacious inside, but less skeezy. It did not, however, disappoint. Is it a wonderful fault of ours to ask each other, Why haven't we been friends like we are now? Where have we been? And, of course, we've been living our lives so here we are, eating french toast and pineapple and talking at four in the morning.

We're all complex beings, and we feel how we feel about each other - we don't have to tell each other anything we don't want to and, at the same time, we're able to tell each other what we want. I hope, dear reader, that I've been a loving, fighting person and that you've been proud to know me (if you do). I hope, also, that I'm the kind of person that you feel you can approach in order to express your criticism because you want me to do better and because you believe that I can be better.

Really, I've really heavily been into feedback lately.

Anyway, back to the time capsule.

The film is coming along - the timeline is much further than I had imagined it would have been and in the morning, a good amount of hours from now, we'll hit it running. For the record, Jason is very fucking good at cello, Wendy plays piano that makes you think of spring and Joel's passion and discipline for guitar makes you want to start playing again. I owe you all very much. I've learned a lot about working in groups and about my general role in such situations - I know I want to learn to be better, I've thought about what's most effective in terms of directing and delegating. I asked Prof. Hubbard if I could take Directing next semester though I didn't take the pre-reqs and she was enthusiastic about it, adding that I might benefit from a reading list over the summer to prep. Absolutely.

Summer. I have an internship with Dr. Linda Seger (Lindaseger.com) arranged for 40+ hours a week, for her and other writers to promote and research and arrange etc. in Colorado Springs. There has been discussion about making it an official Comm. Internship with Dordt (because the English department doesn't do internships), but that would mean paying $600 for working full time... and I'll be paying that for Honduras later anyway. I don't have $1,200. I've been blessed with numerous offers for housing and lodging and I don't know, honestly, how to repay the kindness. It's an unpaid internship but, as I reasoned earlier when I decided to look for unpaid work over the summer, I'm a North American, educated kid... adult now... from an intact, healthy, Christian family. I'm the last person in the world to feel the pangs of a faltering economy.
That rant makes (more) sense with the following paragraph.
I'll be in Colorado Springs from May to the end of June, and I'll be in Honduras from July to about two weeks before the next semester begins. I'm taking GEN 251 with Dr. Woodbury and six(?) sporty girls from Dordt and, AND!, I'll be capturing video and still footage for a promo. video to be used by the department. ($500 stipend from Dordt.) The program ends in the end of July, but I'll stay after to work in an orphanage that Dr. Woodbury has arranged for us to visit. As she says, our job will be to play with the kids. What?
WHAT?
Every day, I question the value and merit of a college education in English Writing. I think it's a healthy practice and I've yet to find utter, hopeless despair because it's not a lost cause and I believe literature enriches life. But there's another thing for a spoiled North American kid (I still am) to look an orphan in the eye and attempt to keep up at soccer and laugh and attempt to communicate in broken, hilarious spanish. And, I'll have my camera.
I'm 21. I've thought for a few years now that I don't have much reason to keep my thoughts to myself, in case you're new to this blog thing.
When we were in the Philippines, I felt like I needed to grow up and mature quickly in order to be a responsible adult in the world, in order to really have an affect on children growing up in garbage dumps, rifling through trash to find recyclables so the oldest sibling could go to school. How am I supposed to document that as a child, as a kid, and how am I supposed to respond as an adult? Step one - become an adult.

Follow up on Colorado Springs housing... I've gotten several responses that were willing to take in a college kid for two months. The most promising one so far is a couple with kids out of the house, the lady who emailed me is a freelance children's author and they will be gone for two weeks of the summer.

Today I heard a song that I haven't heard since I played it in Grand Rapids. It was a praise and worship song, and they often play songs that I am familiar with, even now I can't tell you which one it was, but I thought of it, and I loved it.

Praise the Lord.
I'm exhausted.
It's not a lost cause.
I want to be approachable.
Every criticism we have for others is on us as well.
You say only what you want.
When you were young, you were the king of carrot flowers.

3 21 AM

I just realized that I've been going for nineteen hours straight on a sleepless night.

OK. OK Ross. I'm not a Hope Haven night shift guy, but I didn't say I was impressed or anything.

Just... holy crap.

To drive home from Spring Break, my friends met up with my brothers and I in Chicago. I stood on the street corner, trying to direct them to where we were, where we were holding a parking spot, and talking to them on the phone. They showed, and parked and before they got out, I was asked, "Why the hell is that kid wearing those sunglasses?"
I usually like those situations when different circles of your life crash together and you chuckle to yourself because, "Oh they are going to laugh at the skinny jeans." and, "Ha. It's Alvin and a bunch of Koreans." Awesome. It was fine - really funny at times, but great and loud laughter with good food together.
And then I wrapped my arms around my brothers and friends and people I'd grown up with, or had only met a few days earlier, but because they're such good friends with my family, then they are with me too and other related connections like that.
Adam, Paul, Christina, myself and all of our junk. We drove home from Chicago, Grand Rapids, Toronto and New York to Sioux Center, Iowa to finish out the semester. Maybe we were tired. They were and I was happy to drive for a good amount of the trip because Spring Break is socially exhausting. Meeting on smaller groups, if not individually, with those people you've grown up with and trying to touch base on what has, and what will, happen. Going out with Paul to meet people at the library/going out with David to see what Hyun and Rachel and Casey are up to/seeing Andrew and Pete and, surprise!, Jennifer and so much to catch up on.
I love road trips. I love driving at night and the descending energy with the flashing lights passing the windows - everyone slowly falls asleep and you speed them gradually home, but there were a few small moments when everyone in the car was awake and dreading the return to campus.
It's a selfish thing to prepare food and have friends over, but I'm OK with it. During that quiet drive home, I decided to feed people - they work better, they generally feel better, they're being taken care of and it satisfies me anyway. Everyone can handle living in Sioux Center for a little longer, and maybe there's a little bit of escapism involved, but we do what we can do make it through and be happy. There's lots of common, reliable, intimate actions that we perform to solidify and celebrate our bonds of friendship - I might babble about the other ones eventually, but I've talked about this one before. Sadly, I haven't cooked for everyone I love, but I think I love everyone that I've cooked for. And it might have to be good enough to have that regret of always wanting to. My mom does it so she'll cook an enormous meal - heaping portions of everything hand-made, reliable dishes that her parents taught her, that we've been eating for generations really, but she'll stay for the most part in the kitchen and make sure everything is where it needs to be before sitting down with a plate herself. I remember dozens of times when my brothers and I were growing up, after such parties in Grand Rapids, before cleaning was completely done, we'd sit down and have yet another serving while she had her first. And she would usually smile with it too.
Christina wanted asparagus for a month or so, and we finally did it tonight.
OK. Time to read.

Linda Seger, scriptwriting guru and wonderful lecturer, came to Dordt the other day and gave us the homework assignment to send her our top five films... in terms of writing.

The Royal Tenenbaums

Junebug

Capote

Magnolia

...one more, with room for switches. What about you guys? Joel put down There Will Be Blood and Children of Men. I love Children of Men, but not for its writing. There Will Be Blood. There Will Be Blood. Hmm..

The shepherd was idly playing his pipe - the musical instrument - and was approached by this angel youth character who asked him to play a song about a sheep. The shepherd was, of course, tending his sheep and none of them were in any danger of falling in a pit, running off a steep cliff, taunting any lions etc. and had no reason to deny the boy's request, so he did. And, anyway, he knew quite a bit about sheep. Before, it was reason enough to play to the winds, the grass in the fields, to his flock of sheep that they would hear it but with the boy's request, he became a bard.

I feel like I did in high school, staying up late with late-night chill in the marrow of my bones, the smell of steel pressed to my fingertips and a worn guitar strapped to my shoulder, wishing there were a larger place to play loud, to croon. Martin Sexton, Sam Beam, Tom Waits. Other vocals, other guitars. I saw a friend in the library today and as soon as I walked over and she looked up with the faintest of reactions and all I could, and had to, do was gently put my arms around her. I hadn't seen her in so long, and I could say that about a few other people I care deeply about, and there's no way to tell how her life had been progressing since, but it allows that lovely vulnerability between friends. There's such a thin line though; unanswered dependence is enough to put you down for the week, and it's startling how beautiful the response is.

And thank you for $340 plane tickets to and from Honduras.

It's Good Friday and this past week threw us under the train and dragged us along for miles. I'm at Butler's with Paul, Christina and Adam because the Bean isn't open and, sub-consciously, I think we all needed to get off of campus for a while. Christina just asked how much space there is in between citations, so it seems she's being productive here. I can't seem to get on board. I had a meeting with Professor Dengler and another with Bethany Schuttinga this week - both of them, with varying degrees of specificity, had basically to do with, "OK. What are we going to do with you?" And only a little bit past the analysis of what my problem(s), we discussed the basic question of who I want to be, to determine what I want to focus my efforts and time on. We are finite beings. I remember this from the summer after junior year and it's settling in still. Some activities, though beneficial and lovely in themselves, are not pushing me toward that one goal. So what things do I want to focus on? What notions of my humanity do I want to develop?

"... just makes it that much better."

Let's stop people when they say this.