Pilot

Sometimes, I set weird policies for myself and stick with them. Other times, I regret the policy and stop.

I told myself I wouldn't ever start a blog, for instance. "Why would I want to put my thoughts on the internet?  No one cares about what's going on in this grey matter, so..."

I only said that because I didn't care much about what was going on in anyone else's grey matter, except perhaps unless it pertained to the excretion of neurological chemicals.  Everything else--at least, those parts that my peers chose to publish on the interwebs--I labeled as angsty, pretentiously deep, and otherwise worthless.  I guess I was afraid that my words would be the same.

This summer, I worked as a mentor at a summerconferenceforhighschoolerstohelpthemdiscerntheirvocation.  Somewhere within that muchedumbre of grace-filled, love-vomiting mentors, eccentric keynote speakers, lax bros from Connecticut, valley girls from California, and Canadians who shamelessly declared "Eh," a girl named Emily cried.  With a single glance during a Friday affirmation session, she cut through the veil of cynicism I was donning that morning (attributable to my exhaustion from the week and my frustration with my small group and my general dislike of the notion of sitting in a circle and telling everyone nice things about each other), told me I had changed her life with my words, and cried.

I don't know if it was the initial shock of feeling at least partially responsible for gently stirring the stubborn soul of a seemingly unfeeling high schooler or the way I could not help but smile the rest of the day, but somewhere in the aftermath, I entertained the possibility that by some grace of God, thoughts do have value.  Maybe it's not angst, but real pain.  Maybe the depth isn't pretense.  Maybe they are worth something.  What if my thoughts are worth something?  What if something magical happens when I translate those thoughts into words? What if I am capable of stirring yet another? What if I am supposed to?

This blog is a reaction to that "What if?"

I'm confusing. I'm scatterbrained. I'm still deciding.  I'm almost right, but not quite. I'm in suspense and incomplete.  But maybe someone out there will need that at some point.

Someone: here's a risk I'm taking for you.