#seniorventures

[k-she-rambles]

I don't think it was disingenuous to let the Army guys give me their spiel while I waited in line to get my cap and gown. I was interested in hearing it. And I've run a recruiting table for Quidditch Club at UE...it gets dull, and no one will look you in the eye.

...it took a few tries to get straight answers out of them. Maybe recruiting makes you think in circles, makes you think you have to lure people in with all the benefits you get once you're out.

All I wanted was: What do you need a tiny writer for? (no seriously, when they halooed me and asked if I'd ever considered joining the Army, they laughed at my "Uh? Tiny person?" reaction. I am Hiccup Haddock. I am short. I am stubborn, and I have good arm strength, but I am not strong. Whatever once-over they did was a bad one.)

And tell me about work. Having a reward for getting your crap done is great. One of the reasons I think so many of my Christian siblings get discouraged and bitter and fight-y is that they think they have to do things altruistically. They can't feel any desire or pleasure involved, because then it's not holy.

I've certainly thought so.

This is misguided and dumb and it takes the fun out of life. It's okay to feel pleasure about doing things, for the thing's sake or for what you'll get out of it after. Altruism is a dumb human idea. Even Jesus suffered humiliation and torture "for the joy set before him". There wasn't a "Well, it's my duty", or a "It's the right thing to do, can't complain". He had purpose in it. There was joy waiting. Joy. There's a goal.

Back to the Army guys. Rewards are great. But if you want to really get my attention, you have to tell me that I will have to work the stuffing out of this job. I am not afraid of physical work. I like it.

...I like it a lot better than sitting at a desk all day. I am a writer. Can you tell I'm having a little bit of a crisis? I'd call it a "run away and join the circus" sort of crisis, but it's more like a "run away and chop vegetables for zoo animals hell I will be a professional elephant poo gatherer because I do what I want so there just don't make me stay clean and professional I can't survive without dirt" sort of crisis.

Can you tell I'm caffeinated? I can tell.

This post got off track.

[more-than-true]

A Step Towards a Dream (I'm dreaming? Oh, thank God!)

So I bought More Than Meets The Eye #17 (Roberts, Milne & Burcham) today.

An actual comic book at an actual comic book store. It may seem like I’m freaking out about something tiny, which I am, but you have to understand: “Maybe I can write comic books” is the first “I want to be a ____” idea that I’ve had since before I graduated high school.

I’m a senior in college.

I’ve been absolutely terrified by my inability to dream up futures and goals for myself. Yes, I know it’s bad to hold onto them too tightly in case they don’t turn out exactly the way I imagined —I believe my God has more exciting futures up his sleeve than the ones I can come up with. But before he gave me this one, I was freaking out about it. It’s no fun (read: despair fodder) coming up against a blank wall when you try to look ahead.

My future-imagination is waking very slowly still. It’s been deader than dead for a while.

But you know how it goes. I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future…

I’m not as immersed in the professional writing culture as most of my fellow majors. And I don’t know much about the comic book industry either. But knock-out short stories read aloud in New York coffeehouses aren’t the only stories that need written, and that is encouraging. There’s a place for people to tell stories about superheroes and robots, too.

And the comic book? Definitely going to be what Mark Batterson would call one of my “lifesymbols”. Something to remember a providence by. In the words of Allie Brosh, “maybe it isn’t all hopeless bullshit”. And, yes, I know it isn’t all hopeless bullshit. But knowing a thing and taking it to heart can sometimes be very different things.

Maybe instead it’s a possibility. Maybe I was given a dream.

Maybe I can…maybe I can…maybe I can…