A little self reflection

So in my Capstone Seminar we had to write essays about ourselves. I really don't like writing about myself at all. But its nice that our prof. wants to get to know us I guess. This class is all about sorting through everything you've gotten out of life at Huntington, and I'm excited about it. Anyway... below is my essay. The whole time I was writing it I felt like I was blogging. So I guess posting it makes sense.


Self Reflection Essay

I’ve never been very sure of how to start essays like this without sounding trite, or like I’m describing myself in some sort of singles advertisement. But I guess I’ll just start with the basics. I’m twenty years old and in my third year at HU. I started out as a double major, studying youth ministry and journalism but I recently dropped down to a youth ministry minor. My routine 18-credit hour semesters are behind me and I actually have time to read for my classes now. And I get to read for fun, and breath. Breathing is good. This year I have also been serving as the editor in chief of The Huntingtonian, which has occupied a lot of hours and thought in my life this year, but I absolutely love being a part of it.

I am the second of three daughters born to two people who grew up in the same little Indiana town, became teachers and got married. My dad is a basketball coach and therefore has moved us from one tiny Indiana town to another—he even spent two years coaching at a tiny college in Ohio—essentially in pursuit of winning a few games. Both of my parents came from a Christian background, but their personal faith was kind of shallow for most of my childhood. It has been just the last few years, as my faith was radically changing, that my parents’ did as well. But church was always important for them, and their background helped to build a few foundational truths in my life that I really believe have driven me to where I am—the existence of an almighty and loving God and the importance of being a part of a church family. Children’s church, Sunday school, Vacation Bible School and church camps helped to fill in all of the gaps for me and when I was nine I began to understand who Jesus was and what a monumental thing he did for me. I was baptized the summer before I started fourth grade.

My faith for about three years was much like my parents, shallow and without any real responsibility of action or service to God. Through junior high though, with youth group, some really great conferences I got to attend and summer camp, I started to realize what it looked like not to simply accept what Jesus did for me, but to live like Christ’s sacrifice meant something to me. When I was sixteen I attended a Christ in Youth conference in South Carolina with my youth group, and felt God calling me to prepare myself for a life of ministry. At the time I felt like if you were called to minister, it meant that it was to be a full-time vocation. I began teaching children’s church and my youth pastor Brad became a great mentor and brother-like presence in my life. I started my freshman year at Huntington double majoring in youth ministry and journalism, as I said before. It was always an internal struggle for me—I felt like I had to choose between youth ministry and journalism, something that I have a natural talent and passion for.

The past two and a half years at HU have taught me that every call from God is perfectly tailored to each individual. Working with youth will always be a priority in my life, but taking a leadership role in a church or ministry organization is not where God is calling me right now, it seems. But when God spoke to me at 16, I was limiting the possibilities he had for my life. I always thought that my persistence to study journalism was me being selfish, but I am almost sure that is where he wants me to be. But what am I going to do when this college stage of my life is over? I really couldn’t tell you. I’d love to be writing for a news outlet somewhere, and working with junior high students in some capacity as well, probably as a volunteer in an organization. But I’ve also played with the idea of graduate school; there is a media studies program in Indianapolis that I’ve been looking into. I love the fact that I don’t have to know right now, and that the possibilities for my life are almost completely wide open. Life plans and goals scare me. There is a sophomore on the newspaper staff that has this four-year plan written out for her life. The day she told me about it, I was so scared for her, and for me. But allowing God the room to maneuver in my life and to send me wherever, whenever—while it too seems scary—has given me the freedom to live each day as I would love to continue throughout the rest of my life. It has enabled me to continue being the student of my life, not the teacher. I’ve become the participant, not the planner. Giving up the control and taking God out of the box I kept him in for so many years has been liberating for me.

There are a few things that I believe define me as an individual but I am still far from being able to define who I am. Its fun to think of myself as a work in progress, someone who’s chasing after God’s heart who’s finding my own in the process of it all.

I'm ready for something, anything.

"So, where do you go to school?" asked the friendly acquaintance.

"Huntington University," I said. "Its close to Ft. Wayne. "

"What is your major?"

"Journalism."

"Oh, so you're gonna change the world, huh?"

End of conversation.

I cannot even convey to you the number of times I have had this conversation since I started school. The next time someone asks me what I'm studying, I think I'll say I'm just here for my Mrs. degree. They'd probably be happier with that than to hear that I plan to be a part of the evil liberal media.

I just thought that this was a humorous pattern of conversation for me. I've begun to laugh a little when people ask me the question because I know how they are going to react to my answer. I don't know how aspiring to be a reporter became this joke to people. And at the opposite of that, a lot of people view it as this noble profession that's "going to change the world," as my acquaintances have often said to me tongue-in-cheek. Why can't it just be a career choice?Like studying business or English or biology. People assume that I have all of these convictions and that I'm a journalist because I need a means to carry out some kind of agenda. But there's no agenda. I'm just in love. With real, objective journalism. I love telling other people's stories. They are far more interesting than most anything that has ever happened to me.

And most times--in my very amateur experience writing thus far--the reward has not been the story with my byline at the top, but the interview process. When you ask just the right question, and the subject starts to open up to you like a friend and you can't scribble fast enough because everything they say is fantastic.

But this kind of (not really) leads me into something I've been struggling with. Lately, I don't feel like life is happening to me. Its like I'm a reporter in this capacity as well, and everyone else's stories fill my time and thoughts and life to a point where I don't even notice anything happening to me. And maybe that's it. Life just isn't happening to me right now, and the drama that comes with it has been missing for quite sometime (no complaints about this though). I'm in some sort of strange limbo. Let's look at a few examples.

One of my friends has been calling me with a life full of drama and indecision. And it all stemmed from a simple question her boss asked her--"What makes you the happiest?"She didn't have an answer for him. Warning signals started to sound as she realized that her answer probably should have been something like this--"When I'm spending time with my boyfriend." But she admits that she doesn't enjoy being with him anymore, but she doesn't want to deal with breaking up with him because they will probably split up when he heads off to grad school next year anyway. Tonight she told me that she is happy with him, but she knows she could be happier. Happy is happy, isn't that enough? I listened for awhile and we discussed and I played my famous role of devil's advocate until she got frustrated with the complexity of it all. But the conversation left me with one question...

When is life going to happen to me?

My old roommate is studying abroad in Oxford. She's overwhelmed most days but loving every minute of it. She doesn't get the chance to email very often, but when she does it is all about the people she's met and the places she's getting to see in both London and Oxford. Her classes start this week which are going to be so hard and she knows it, but I think she's excited to see if she's going to be able to cut it. To see how she'll fare among some of the brightest students in the world. I'm so happy for her through all of this, but it left me asking...

When is life going to happen to me?

My new roommate is in the middle of a budding relationship with a guy she's been friends with for 2 years. She gets giggly when she talks about him and anxious waiting for her cell phone to ring. His name pops up into almost every conversation we have and it has been really fun witnessing all of the "pre-lab" steps to their potential relationship. But seriously...

When is life going to happen to me?

I promise that I'm not just sitting in my room, waiting for something good to hit me over the head. I've felt so numb and in the middle of everyone's life lately that I feel like I'd take anything at the moment. Which leads me to one more story...

One of my closest friends is going through a divorce. He's 23. I know it sounds awful, especially when you know that his wife was cheating on him. With another woman. It has all of the stigma and religious complexity thrown into it to make it more hurtful than simply a broken relationship. And through all of it, he maintains that he still loves her. After nearly 6 months of her being emotionally absent in their marriage. After forcing him to live at his grandma's but still make payments on their home, a house that she's most likely sharing with her girlfriend most nights.

But three months later, my friend is picking up the fragments of his ideal life and starting to build something for himself that will hopefully exceed every dream and expectation he ever had for himself. He's going back to finish college and playing in his church's worship band, just trying to recover. I talk to him a lot about all the things he's learning and how much his life's changed so fast...

But when is life going to happen to me?

Maybe I'm a journalist because telling other people's stories is all I have right now. Maybe. And just maybe, I'll start to feel like I have my own stories to tell. Maybe. When life starts happening to me.

My Dearest J-term,

Thank you so much. Because you exist I get 2 1/2 weeks of vacation without actually having to be at my parent's house. And I love my parents but the craziness they bring into my life can only be tolerated for so long. If I had to wake up, walk out into the kitchen for a bagel only to be met by my fully caffeinated mother talking to me so fast I wasn't sure if it was a real language one more time, I'm not sure if I could have survived.

But thanks to you, J-term. I get to be in my dorm room with my comfy bed and dark curtains. My head has begun to hate natural lighting and my curtains and light bright lamp really accommodate this. Only during J-term do I have time to think about such things.

Also, J-term, I am thankful for you because it has given me uninterrupted hours to bond with my new roommate. Since you give us all the time in the world to waste away, we can spend hours watching amazingly good movies (and sometimes bad, because sometimes you are only in the mood to watch a really bad movie) or talking about nothing. Normally, as students we would feel guilty about these activities. During the regular semester the only comfort time we allow ourselves is a run to Coffee D'Vine, and even with that we are justifying that the caffeine fix will help us complete our unfathomable amounts of reading and other assignments. But now, you have given us all the time we could want to enjoy ourselves on campus.

Now my friend, I do not want to sound like I'm complaining about the regular semester, but getting to know you has made me realize how unique and special you are. You are not be be taken for granted, J-term. You are a bright, shining couple of weeks in my college career, and I should be treating you as the gift from God you are.

I'm so glad that I've gotten to know you. I wish we could be together always.

Love,
SG

Avoiding the Second-hand

Finally finished "The Fountainhead" last night and the themes and characters have been swimming in my head all day. Its just this amazing book--everything reminds me of something I read in "The Fountainhead."

So the book revolves around two architects, Howard Roark--a genius who has the capability to revolutionize the field--and Peter Keating--mediocrity in the form of a man, who becomes rich and popular doing what mediocre people do best...copying other peoples work. Roark is harboring a ton of genius underneath his unabashed self conceit and Keating only has the appearance of genius and self respect. The theme of NYC at the time is to serve others, to rid yourself of all selfishness. Rand contends that this is how mediocrity is bread. You deny yourself self-respect and you start creating for the sake of others--for notoriety, to please fill the needs of anyone but yourself. You start to depend on people and their good opinion of you that if you lose it your life is essentially over. According to Rand, real creative genius comes out of complete selfishness. And in the context of the story, this made complete sense. She took this idea of living life for others, and the beaty of self sacrifice and turned it on its head. It became the root of evil in the world... not selfishness.

This just one of the ideas she weaved into this book. If you ever feel like you have the time to dive into a 700-page novel... grab this one. It's changed me. Because although I don't agree with a lot of the ideas in the book, including the one I probably failed in trying to describe to you, I wanted to agree with her. I really wanted to believe that by becoming so independent that I could live without relationships, completely secure in my own abilities and strength, I would actually be making the world a better place.

But throughout the book I was constantly, if not grudgingly reminded that there was a presence missing in this book. God wasn't there. Not as the sourse of genius bestowed upon Roark or the reason for the self-sacrifice and service constantly preached by power-hungry Toohey. And I know that he's the source of all my abilities, and the only critic that should be worth anything to me.

But it was an experience, living in this author's world for awhile, where masochism was the route to happiness and power killed everything it touched.

Now I'm starting "Daisy Miller." I love J-term... where I simply get to enjoy musicals, movies, books and my new roommate. She's great and fun and lighthearted and I think its going to be a fun semester. We'll see how we fare I guess. Its nice to be living someone from the comm. department, who understands when I start off on an "I hate Miller" rant, then want to cry I love him so much the very next day. It's not just me...these are the extreme emotions this man pulls out of you.

I miss my Sarah in Oxford. She's going to come back worldy and cultured and smarter than me (she already was, but its going to be worse). But I'm proud of her... I miss her.