une grande monde, une petite fille

wild(erness)

Today, I adventured. I put on a pair of pants that looked and felt like a Snuggie, donned bright orange suspenders and a Santa hat, and headed off on an adventure with a friend and six other people I’d never met before in my life. We went to Moosilauke, one of my favourite parts of Dartmouth despite that it’s 45 minutes away from campus. We hiked, ate, and sledded, and it was absolutely glorious. There was much laughter and smiling throughout the adventure. Later, we headed over to a cabin and met up with other adventurers to sit by a fire and have dinner. 

Then we drove back to campus and melted back into our separate lives. Maybe we’ll pass each other on the sidewalk once in a while, or make awkward eye contact in a crowded frat basement. This sucks, because I had a lot of fun today and enjoy being surrounded by people who like doing things I also like doing. The world is a confusing place.

unnecessary evils

I don’t really want to write about this, because it’s full of sad and horrible things that I want to believe don’t exist in the world, but that’s ignorant because the world’s not a perfect place and shit happens and sometimes you just have to put it out on paper (or website? oh technology) and let it be, which is what I feel compelled to do right now.

This is the story of a website. Specifically, a website where students who attend my college can anonymously write whatever the fuck they want. Usually it’s about what frats are “better” than others, or why the new meal plan is much worse than the old one. Usually, it’s the generic brain vomit of a bunch of overstressed, deliriously tired kids who don’t have anyone to whom they can expel all their ridiculous thoughts. Usually, it’s the kind of thing you can read and laugh about and not take too seriously. But sometimes, the posts hit uncomfortably hard. Sometimes, people post names. I always read those posts feeling awful for the person whose name was there, because that name was waiting naked for the anonymous internet world to pounce. If I knew the person, I wrote about their uplifting qualities, and queried as to why others felt the need to disgrace the person so brutally, and not even to their face. If I didn’t know them, I avoided the post entirely. I don’t need to be reminded about the cruelness of the world. I can see that on the news any given day.

Then someone posted my name. Nothing about me, just my full name with a question mark. I saw it and felt my stomach disappear. I’m a person. Unfortunately, this anonymous poster had just turned me in to a question waiting to be answered. Suddenly, I was naked, with no clothes or blanket to reach out and hide behind as judgement began its vicious assail. 

The first response sat there: “she needs to chill the fuck out before rush”

My brain freaked out. Why? Were all the extracurriculars I do impeding my ability to be an affiliated member of a sorority? Did this person even realize that I didn’t even know if I wanted to be in a sorority, and that me doing the things I did had nothing to do with what people thought of me? Why did this person even care about my hypothetical chances of being in a house? Why did they not want me to do all of the things I love?

And then I read the second response: “she needs to disappear before rush”

My brain was silent. I wanted to disappear right then. I thought I’d done a pretty good job making friends and finding things I loved to do at college, but apparently I was dead wrong. I should disappear. I didn’t deserve to be liked. I might as well be an empty shell curled up in the fetal position. I became one for a few seconds, but then I had to go to the bathroom, which forced me to be a person again. I stumbled out into the hallway, still reveling in the fact that someone desired my disappearance. A few of my friends were in the hallway. They said hi to me. They were nice to me. I was confused. Weren’t people not supposed to be nice to me? I didn’t deserve that. People aren’t nice to people who are supposed to disappear. 

I went to my car and decided to drive. I wasn’t driving to anywhere in particular. I just needed to drive. As soon as I’d left campus, the tears stung at my eyes, slithering down my cheeks with a salty severity. Thankfully, I noticed the song playing in the background. All will be well. Would it? Really, Gabe Dixon Band? I bet nobody thinks you should disappear. But the lyrics continued. All will be well; you can ask me how, but only time will tell. 

As I drove farther away from the world I was supposed to be disappearing from, I started to trust the lyrics. A new day dawns, and I am practicing my purpose once again. It is fresh and it is fruitful if I win, but if I lose, oh I don’t know… I’ll be tired, but I will turn and I will go, only guessing ‘til I get there, then I’ll know. Right now, I was a mess. I didn’t know. The only thing I did know was that somehow, even though I was supposed to disappear, all would be well. 

So I kept driving. I ended up at a Panera Bread. I bought a sandwich, but in my distress, I forgot to tell them to take off the tomatoes. I’m allergic to tomatoes. It didn’t really matter though. People shouldn’t be making perfect sandwiches for people who are supposed to disappear. I didn’t have anybody to eat my sandwich with, but that didn’t matter either, so I drove in the opposite direction. I needed somewhere happy, somewhere where people couldn’t find me, somewhere I could find peace. I ended up at the foot of a mountain. I sat in my car, listened to “All Will Be Well” on repeat, and ate my tomato-infested sandwich.

I had to go back to campus eventually. Running away from your problems doesn’t make them disappear - it just makes you disappear. I didn’t want to disappear. Maybe somebody else did, but I wasn’t going to disappear. I had things I loved to do and friends who cared about me. I was going to be happy, damn it. 

I didn’t tell anybody about any of this until I was surrounded by people I loved who cared enough about me to ask. It was terrifying. I cried a lot. I hadn’t cried in front of people in a long time. I just teared up thinking about it, because as much as I want this to be a thing that doesn’t affect me, it does. The first time I told anybody, when I spilled my nakedly insulted self out for them to see, I was crying so hard I really couldn’t choke out the words. Fortunately, they respected me and supported me and made me know how loved I am. They held on to me, affirming that I would not disappear, and I cannot thank them enough. 

A few months later, someone anonymously wrote that I’m a hipster. I don’t know if I self-identify as a ‘hipster’, but I like indie music and wearing clothes that make me feel comfortable, like Converse sneakers, jeans, and large ugly sweaters. Being comfortable is important to me, and so is my passion for music. If that’s what they meant by ‘hipster’, then I appreciate that someone recognized a bit of who I am. 

More recently, someone asked the question, “most annoying ’15s?” and someone responded with my name. This wasn’t half as bad as that original post. I realize that sometimes I can be perceived as annoying. I have concussion-induced ADHD, which results in my inability to discern how loud I am talking at any given time. When I get excited about something, which happens frequently when I am talking about something I love, I talk loudly and people will tell me to quiet down. I thank them, because without them saying anything, I would have no idea.

However, this wasn’t the only thing that had been written. Someone responded, “she’s so nice. please stop posting her name on here.” Another person wrote, “coolest ginga I know.” If either of these people somehow stumble across my story, they should know that I genuinely appreciate their anonymous kindness. 

It’s the third responder here that really made an impact on my life. This is what they wrote: “she is so nice but since she’s really involved in extracurriculars, which is awesome, and knows a lot of people, which is also awesome, i think she tends to end up talking about her activities/friends so much that she seems like she’s trying too hard.” This was all I needed to hear. I don’t want it to seem like I am ‘trying too hard’. (I also don’t really understand what it means to be trying too hard). I do what I love. That’s all. I wish I could make people understand that. For now, I’m going to make a conscious effort to talk about things that aren’t my extracurriculars or friends. It’s going to be hard, because those are the things that I love and I want to talk about them all the time. I’m sure I can think of other things, and this will be my new, omnipresent challenge. Maybe I can talk about nature or relate anecdotes from my past. Maybe I can spend some time doing nothing but listening. Who knows? Since I’m not going to disappear, I have plenty of choices.