Sometimes, I wish that I had written a better story.
Throughout my first year of college, I was a mess. Stress levels climaxed and at times, I feared I would reach too far and fall off the crazy cliff. Behind my smiling teeth and all too aggressive laugh, my brain was working overtime. Keeping my cool when my mind was going into overdrive could be challenging. Sometimes the luxury of sleeping could seem like a chore! I’d stay up all hours of the night just thinking about how many things I needed to accomplish the following day. There was never an end to the madness.
College is stressful. It’s new, it’s exciting, it’s busy, it’s overwhelming, it’s exhausting! Passing an exam in high school was a piece of cake, but getting an “A” on an exam in college was more like coming up with the ingredients by hand, not having everything the recipe calls for, but winging it anyway and hoping for something that slightly resembles a cake! To paint a better picture, the cake of college life calls for five cups of learning, three tablespoons of studying every day, four teaspoons of homework each night, one pinch of sleep, and a few splashes of taking care of your health and finances. Then, once the cake is baked, you’re expected to frost it with fun and reckless adventures that you’ll be able to laugh about when you look back upon them fifty years down the road. Just like there’s not enough room in the bowl, there’s not enough time in the day!
Halfway through the year, a person was put into my life who put oxygen back into my lungs. After hours upon hours of studying for a big final, this person convinced me to take a break from it all. This concept was foreign to me. Taking a break meant missing out on study time, and that just seemed outrageous to me. But in that moment, I planted my trust in a stranger and agreed to embark on an adventure. In the dead of the night, at one in the morning, I hopped into a blue jeep liberty and went for a spin. This person took me to a spot that looked over Pocatello. Seeing the city lights below us somehow made it easier to breathe. In the dead of the night, an incredible friendship blossomed and a magnificent ritual began. From then on, whenever stress levels seemed unbearably high, we’d hop in the jeep and find another lookout.
To celebrate finishing another semester with flying colors, the two of us decided to go on one last adventure before we went our separate ways for the summer. Once the sun began to set, we hopped in the jeep and headed up Clark Street. We drove as far as the road permitted before we began to hike. This was a new thing for us – hiking. We didn’t expect to have to trek up these hills in the pouring rain, so our outfits weren’t the best for the occasion. We marched up the muddy incline regardless. Once we reached an acceptable lookout, we took in the view. It was impeccable. We looked out upon the freeway and watched the lights of passing cars go by. Taking turns, the two of us made up the drivers’ stories. One car was headed home to be present for the birth of his first baby girl. Another was headed south to start up a drinking straw company. This activity went on for hours.
It got me thinking about what my story is. At the time, I was a freshman at Idaho State University. I played sports in high school but my athletic career ended. I’ve never been out of Idaho or Oregon. I’ve never gone sky diving. The only language I know is English. I came from a small Podunk town that no one has heard of. I realized I haven’t done anything worth remembering. All I could think was how mediocre of a life I’ve lived thus far. Writing stories for the passing cars made me wish that I had written a different story for myself.
Looking back at that moment, sitting in the pouring rain on top of a muddy hill, I realize now that I had a moment of stupidity. The lives of the passing cars were not the stories we were writing for them. For me to be jealous of them was absolutely ridiculous. What makes a person’s story special is merely determined by their happiness. The Swedish use the term livsnjutare when describing someone who loves life deeply. My life may seem average or dull the way I looked at it that night, but if I take a deeper look, my life is awesome!
Because although I may not have gone to an Ivy League school, I’m proud to be part of the Bengal family. I’ve met some of the most incredible, caring, talented, and intelligent people whom I’ve shared countless unforgettable experiences with. And even though I haven’t traveled a whole lot, I was lucky enough to be able to call the great state of Idaho my home. Growing up in a small town shaped me to the hardworking and humble person that I am today. I’m proud of the person I have become and the virtues that I have.
I am nineteen years old. My life is just beginning! I have plenty of time to partake in daring adventures. My story isn’t over yet; it’s still being written. I’m confident that my story will be everything I wished it would be and more. In the long run, all that matters is that I was smiling while I was participating in this crazy race we call life. I am loved, I am healthy, I am successful. I have no reason to wish for anything different. Livsnjutares learn how to ride the wave, and that's what I am doing.
The moral of the story is to remember to be happy in the “now”. Laugh without fear of the future! Don’t wish for a different story or wait for someone to write it for you. Do what makes you feel warm inside, be with people who make you smile, and never let anyone keep you from achieving happiness. When things can seem overwhelming and coming out on top appears to be impossible, keep your head up and don’t stop swimming. Don’t let the bad water into your lungs and ruin the way you look at yourself. Fight against the weight of the water and you’ll reach shore soon enough. Bad things may come in waves, but happiness floats.
