Today was the most confusing day when thinking about writing a first sentence. I felt both excruciatingly lonely at the beginning and shockingly at home at the end. Things do and will get better over time, a lesson I had to learn from experience.
At the beginning, it was the beginning of Welcome Week and we got into our Mentor Groups (which will also be our Cornerstone Class members). We did the typical ice breakers, and I concluded via my acute sense of stereotyping people that I wouldn't become good friends with any of those people. Great, I thought, in the place where you're supposed to meet friends, you won't. And my introversion slowly expanded. However, there is this guy in the group named Ethan, and he's worth noting about.
Everyone knows an Ethan. He's the guy who tells super long stories when a one word answer was asked for. He's the guy who keeps going on and on about a seemingly meaningless story. He's the guy that makes everyone feel uncomfortable because he's so awkward. Well, Ethan stands out from all the other Ethans in that he knows he's socially awkward, and he called out a part of society that lies normally in our subconscious. A group leader asked a question like "what does God want us to do with our lives/how can we live out loud (the terrible motto of Welcome Week)?" And Ethan responded like this: "Society requires that you be a certain type of person, that person having a specific set of social skills; being outgoing, sociable, able to hold a conversation, etc. But everyone is not gifted with social skills. God wants us to be the person that was made, the personality and traits that we have."
I had never considered the obvious fact that society creates a prerequisite for participation, at least the popular-social-cool-world that the majority of people want to be a part of. Some of that majority are the people who don't meet the requirements. Maybe it was because someone with the worst set of social skills openly claimed them and also exposed "social skills" for what they really are-- a gift that some receive, others have to struggle to cultivate. I don't know why he struck a chord with me, but he did.
Back to the day. I met a girl named Morgan who talks exactly like a girl I went to high school with. I hope she's not the same way that my high school acquaintance is: shallow, superficial, dumb. Morgan's cool. She seems like she would be a fun friend.
We did a few more activities throughout the rest of the day, most of which I remained silent. I'm not going to broadcast myself in order for people to like me, especially people who I don't think are interesting. I'll wait for the interesting people, then I'll float the vibe, like I did with Matt. But I'll talk about that later.
The end of the Welcome Week day was the Candlelight Devo. Going in, I thought it was going to be ultra lame. I was reaching back to my other experiences with candle-and-religion situations, and the Christmas Eve Service immediately surfaced. With that as my reference, I was preparing to play on my iPhone. But as each section of freshman exited Moody in a single-file line while everyone was singing accapella, I felt a familiar yet lost feeling. Everyone was singing the same song with enthusiasm, at least the people sitting next to me. I felt a connection to everyone, like we had something in common. And, as I exited Moody, I saw a line of people (upper classmen, graduates, older people), and the feeling grew stronger. They were holding lit candles and singing worship songs. I saw Jake and Trav and Amanda and Mackenzie and Chelsea and Mary and Christine and Ryan and Carly, all lined up, all looking at me and smiling. As we made our way into the Amphitheater I realized that what I was feeling was love. I felt loved. These were people who I know, some of whom I don't even know very well. But the fact that we have, for whatever reason, been in each others' lives made us, at this moment, friends. But we were more than that.
As we continued singing in the Amphitheater, I kept thinking. Why would all these people come back for this? Maybe because they had a similar experience--they saw people they knew when they were freshmen and they felt the same things I did. And if that's true, they wanted us to have the same experience, the same feelings they did. They wanted us to feel love. And in that moment, while looking at the crowd of people lit by little yellow flames, I understood what it means to be a Christian. As we sang, we didn't have to be seen--we were joined by the song we knew, everyone singing to the same God. We didn't have to be someone, our identities didn't matter because we all had the same one: Christian. Follower of Christ. And yes, most of us fuck up and don't act like Christians a lot of the time. But at that Candlelit Devo, it seemed like everyone was being as close to who we were made to be as we could.
Now, I understand that the experience I had can't be shared by everyone for two reasons: one, I know people who go to the university who are older than me; and two, I grew up in a Christian home. The second point is the most important. I do realize that, because I went to church every Sunday growing up, I learned every song that we sang at the devo, which was helpful because they didn't have projectors or screens or song books. But what about the people who didn't grow up going to church? They were screwed. I saw a girl looking around, not singing, and I felt bad for her, because she was ostracized from an experience because she didn't know the words. How many others felt awkward because they didn't know the words, and everyone else is singing their hearts out? The experience was good for me, but I know that it can't be had by everyone.
After that, we had a Mabee Hall meeting where they, among other things, told everyone to prop their doors open in the dorm and socialize. After that, the doors were open, and I felt the energy to meet people. I actually went into other guys' rooms and introduced myself and started a conversation! Look at me go. But the most interesting guy I met was Matt. He was wearing shoes from Switzerland, skinny jeans, and glasses with frames that look like Ray-bans. I started talking to him and casually showed him my room, because we were standing by it. I pointed out the record player, and that prompted the record test. The record test is the first of two test I have established in my short time here. Between Mihir and me, I think the records we have are pretty solid from great artists: Kid A by Radiohead, Sea of Cowards by The Dead Weather (those are Mihir's), High Violet by The National, and Shallow Grave by the Tallest Man On Earth (mine). I show the records to people, and their reactions are good indicators of what type of person they are. So far, no one has heard of any of those bands (I know, right? Radiohead? Come on). But with Matt, he had heard of every one of them. He had even seen Radiohead in concert! My friend-radars were going crazy. Then, to make it even more exciting, he asked if I knew about Mumford and Sons, a band I really like! And he's going to see them in concert at the House of Blues later this year! I knew then that we would probably be good friends. He told me that another band I liked had done something with a different band, something I want to check out. Things were looking good--on to the movie test.
The movie test is the same as the record test, except with my movie collection. Now, I have a great movie collection, it's just that most people don't watch good movies. But the second I showed Matt the movies, he picked up "Children of Men" and said "this is one of my favorite movies." Right then, I felt like I had found someone just like me.
And yet, I'm kind of hesitating to talk to him again, because, after three days of searching through superficial people, Matt seems too good to be true. I don't want to get to know him more and find out that he's really annoying or intense or (God forbid) a tool. But there's no way.
So, in one day, I went from feeling alone to feeling loved. I'd say I had a pretty full day.
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