Something Strange is going on…

Last night, while I was chatting with my mom on facebook, we were scheming about what I can do so I can come back to college in the spring: Take a job for the week before Christmas with FedEx or UPS; I’m still hoping to pull off getting another loan. I’m seriously contemplating taking a job of some kind to help with the spring semester. Then I realized what was going on: I was plotting, trying to figure out how I can stay at Huntington.

A little background: Some of you know that it’s been a struggle for me to make close friends here at school like I had back in PA, whether the ones I had before I started at Jumonville, or the ones I made while working there. This difficulty (as well as the brief amount of time I had between making the decision to come to Huntington and the actual carrying out of the decision) has made me question, over and over again, whether I’m supposed to be here. My blogs on it have been schizophrenic, (I SPELLED THAT WORD RIGHT ON THE FIRST TRY!!! ROCK ON!) ranging from “I know I’m supposed to be here!” when I discovered that this idea was born because I misnamed a Rich Mullins song, all the way to “Why am I here again?” on the days (most days) when I started overanalyzing stuff and wondering why life wasn’t easier if this is where God sent me.

I struggled with figuring out stuff (’cause that’s what I do, yo), like is this really what I want to do when I grow up (haha), might there be something better, didn’t I listen well enough to God when I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing… But something strange happened. Maybe it happened while I was sick, I don’t know. Maybe it happened while I was thinking about my final essay for Intro to Digital Media Arts, or reading that Philip Yancey book about Reaching for the Invisible God. Maybe it happened when I watched “West Bank Story.” Or when I realized that, financially, next semester might not work, unless I take some drastic steps to make it work.

More likely, though, it happened when I was writing a script for a short film (the first draft just before this note), and my imagination started working on it, playing with it, figuring out who I could ask to do what, which theatre-major actors might be good fits for the parts, how to pull it off… my imagination got involved. Then, of course, I realized that if I did actually make it, whatever form it took, it would only be practice. Practice for future film-making. And my imagination got involved in figuring out how to keep doing this, how to come back to school in the spring. How much money I’d have to make, if I could get a short-term job with FedEx ground over Christmas break, who to call to get it… and I realized it had happened. At some point between calling people and freaking out and thinking, “Well, okay, I’ll decide to stay…” I’d actually made the decision. And the decision was starting to affect my thinking. Maybe it “took.”

Those of you who don’t understand why this is a big deal, don’t worry about it. Those of you who know me… thanks for your prayers. God is still doing miracles.

I think that sums it up… if not, ask questions.

I guess the theme for this one is “I think I want to be here.”