In many coming of age films, there is a scene where a teen thrusts their head out the window and screams into the wind to emphasize the freedom they feel in that moment. I had a similar experience—minus my head sticking out the window—last week as I began my five-day exploration of Maine.
I was recently out for a drive through the hills surrounding the town where I grew up—there isn’t a lot to do in rural New York—when I passed the place of an unforgettable experience. I checked back through my posts and realized I wrote about the memory, so I’ve decided to share it today. It was a 2017 post titled That Time a Permitted Driver and a Pastor Crashed Near a Former Insane Asylum, and, as the title suggests, it is quite the tale.
Most people who are around me for more than a few hours discover that I am an introvert. This typically comes as a bit of a surprise since I tend to be confident and outgoing, but it’s usually evidenced by my need to briefly slip away during long group activities. Are you starting to understand why I go by “most boring person” yet?
I walked with them into a darkly lit gymnasium and tensed up as I saw the colorful lights strobing on the other side of the room. Loud music was blaring, and the kids were growing more and more animated as we grew closer to the source of the sound. I thought to myself, “This is how people are ritualistically killed” as we drew nearer to the music and lights. Unwilling to die by the hands of high schoolers, I said goodnight and left the “party” to explore the campground.
It’s time for another installment of Dueling Memories, the series where I share a one-sentence memory with someone and then provide three prompts for us each to answer. We then bring our notes together and view the shared memory through our unique perspectives.
One of the best parts of sharing memories with someone is the enjoyment that comes from discovering the different perspectives you have about the common memory. With that in mind, I’ve decided to start a series called Dueling Memories where I share a one-sentence memory with someone and then provide three prompts for us to each answer. We then bring our notes together and view the shared memory through our unique perspectives.
It’s tough to bring up international travel without sounding like that insufferable person at a party who can’t stop bragging about their amazing trips or, even worse, a wannabe social media influencer. However, I am going to ignore the negative perception of travel stories because I want to share a peculiar one from my time in Bogotá, Colombia. It all began at a Colombian church’s Thanksgiving dinner…
“You don’t know how to enjoy yourself. Americans, you work too hard; you get burned out. Then you come home and spend the whole weekend in your pajamas in front of the TV.”
I am well aware that starting a blog post with an Eat Pray Love quote all but admits that I am a middle-aged soccer Mom trapped in the body of a young man, but I couldn’t resist since the quote perfectly ties into the theme of today’s blog post.
As I drove a moving truck full of my belongings across the Florida state line today, I couldn’t help but reflect on the past year and the lessons it taught me. So not wanting to be selfish by keeping those to myself, I’ve decided to share them with you.
After graduating from college, I began work as an admissions counselor at my alma mater, and let me tell you, I tackled that job with all the gusto of a My Strange Addiction subject devouring a box of dryer sheets. I knew it was a blessing that I had gotten the job, and I wanted to do my absolute best. The problem is that although I am quite gregarious, I am not a natural-born salesman, which makes it pretty difficult to convince people to choose your school over the myriad of other options they have.