Thursday, June 10, 2010

Apologies in advance. This post is somewhat of a kill joy.

Norman year round is hard on the soul.

My feelings of banality may have something to do with the book I read today. On a day like this: Andreas, a German teacher, discovers he has lung cancer and decides to change every aspect of his life. He cuts ties. Moves. Journeys to Switzerland though he isn't sure why. He wanders aimlessly through his mundane days and empty world with no ambitions or concerns for his life. Not exactly a book you close with warm fuzzies running down your spine.

"But in order to feel himself a victim, he had to believe in the possibility of another, better life. Andreas believed in nothing but chance."
- Peter Stamm

I found myself strangely affected by this morose novel. It got me thinking.
I have wonderful friends who are all over the world actually doing something with their lives. Seattle, India, New Zealand, Honduras. The list goes on. I can't help but contemplate my life in Norman. My days are mind-numbingly predictable, and I've been finding myself
really disconcerted by this.

In January I made a promise to myself that I would go somewhere this summer. I wouldn't be stuck in Norman again, and above all, I would not work with children. Well, here I am in Norman, working as a nanny. I longingly look back to the beginning of this year and wish I had applied to all those internships, or called a friend who lives outside of Oklahoma to see if I could take up summer residence with them.

At times I feel as though I'm playing a twisted Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde duet with myself. Part of me takes comfort in the familiar, the other longs for the foreign. I want a schedule, yet I have sudden urges to throw it out the window. I live cautiously, but I often wonder what carefree looks like.

It's strange when your life is one big, open slate. An open road, if you will. I can choose anything. Left? Right? Straight ahead? In one year I will have a college degree in my hand. That's seventeen hours, people. Life couldn't be more open right now.

Yet, I'm tied down to the familiar, the routine. Why is this? Am I scared to leap, fearful of failure? I'm comfortable here. Too comfortable. Peter Stamm made me think about how my own routine may be choking the very life out of me.

Christ came so that we may live and live abundantly. Lately I feel like I'm throwing this in his face.


  1. yeah. I'm kind of feeling this way too. But maybe sometimes we need these "rest periods" in our lives in order to grow before the busyness that comes later?

  2. Wow, I've read three of your posts.
    They're really good.
    Thanks for this one, especially. :)
    Feeling a bit...okay, a lot like this myself.

    Lately, I've found joy again (thank God!)
    I'm on the downhill of the uphill.

    Thanks for the encouraging words.