Ain't No Mountain High Enough
I can't imagine I make sense to other people.
During convention, I, the great connoisseur of human folly (yes, that is a reference), spent most of the time observing the going-ons from whatever position I was presently in. I sat on the curb during the carnival and exerted the most social effort when I thanked the cotton-candy man for letting me take one of the cones. The next most amount of effort was involved then when Kevin stopped by to ask me how I was doing. I said I was fine, and we both sat in silence until someone else from our church pulled him away to dance.
During the opening ceremony, I clenched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth, stolidly refusing to let myself be swayed - literally. With 950 people around you swaying, arms around each other, it's a little awkward to not be swaying, and a little more awkward to sway. The boys to one side of me grab me bodily and force me to sway, and I am almost positively bright red. I bear it in silent indignation.
At the break and after the first round of introductions and rules, Lauren sat next to me. I didn't know her name was Lauren at the time, and had no interest in finding out for about a half hour, until Msgr. Wall stepped up to bask in the cheers of the young crowd. He said a version of the Memorae, and I, ever witty, muttered that he must have learned the short one, because he'd cut out part of the ending ("despise not our petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer us"). Yeah, Lauren agrees. I look up at her, surprised, and she smiles and shrugs. Later on, while they crown Msgr. Wall honorary Pope, Lauren makes disapproving sounds and does not laugh. I crane my head awkwardly, trying to read her nametag, because yes, I still haven't figured out what her name is.
She's heard that I'm from Enloe, and asks me if I know ------. I nod, because ------ is in a few of my classes. She then joins in the swaying. I stare down at the ground for a long time.
When it is over, I see a nametag on the ground by my feet. I pick it up and offer it back to Lauren, memorizing her name. It isn't hard. As everyone crowds around the doors of the convention center to leave for the hotels, Lauren asks me if I've studied.
I look at her, puzzled. Studied what?
This. This faith.
I nearly jump. No one has ever asked me that before, and shyly, with the slightest hint of pride, nod. She smiles, and observes that a lot of people "here" have no idea what The Faith is about. I smile and nod again, and she grins. I blush, and manage to blurt out, a little awkwardly, "Y'know, I like people named Lauren." Lauren looks taken aback, and laughs, and we do not talk until afternoon the next day. Those are the last words I say aloud until we return to the hotel, and we part ways to our separate rooms. When I get to the hotel room with my three roommates, I tell them that I will shower in the morning, and that no, I don't want to share a bed, I'll sleep on the floor. There isn't an extra mattress or blankets, and I'm right next to the air conditioner, but I'm all right.
I wake up at five in the morning, four hours after I fell asleep. I am not in the least tired, and I sing to myself, quietly, in the shower. At six thirty I wake my roommates, who stumble out of bed groggily, all the while indignant about being woken up. I wait for them in silence and listen to talk of boyfriends and first loves until it is time for breakfast.
My breakfast tray is, fortunately, not heavy. I insinuate myself into a little corner seat and studiously avoid conversation except to explain that I will not be sitting there long.
The convention speakers are two young men in their twenties who can juggle while pretending to beat the living shit out of each other. I am duly impressed; they, at least, are worth my applause.
The first workshop I go to is about the Sacraments. We watch parts of the Lion King, Cheaper by the Dozen, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding (whatever that movie is called) to illustrate our Catholic ideas. I, seated comfortably in the second row, know this:
1. There are three levels of holy orders: deacons, priests, bishops
2. There are two kinds of deacons: permanent (usually married) and transitory (will become priests later)
3. Latin is a hard language
4. The Greek Orthodox Church is more conservative
It is lunch time. I join in with the rest, and manage to seat myself at a table with my group. I miss most of the conversation because I stood in a ten minute line to get a cup of Pepsi.
My second workshop is on Protestant Challenges. I have no trouble in this shop, and know this:
1. The idea of a Seventh-Day Adventist made no sense
2. Protestants changed the Bible
3. We love everyone, and everyone hates us
4. Rosaries are hard to make
5. My Bible is a good translation
The third workshop is on challenges within the faith. I know this, and I read my Bible for some of the time:
1. Mary is not a Goddess
2. Women should not be priests (but maybe being a deacon is okay)
3. Abortion is bad, and so is war and stuff
I realize that the theme is "Catch the Spirit", and this apparently is embodied by people blowing bubbles and other people popping them. Either that, or the Spirit is represented by multi-colored frisbees that are thrown through the air, inside the convention center.
At dinner, I bump into Carrie, whom I have met only twice before in my life. She is as chirpy as always, and we talk for about 15 seconds before she moves on to get her own dinner. Something sets my allergies off before dinner is done, and I am escorted back to the hotel room.
We change into "dance" clothes. The girls wear skirts. I remain unaware that Meredith's shirt is thrown all over the room, even right in front of my face, because I am sound asleep, worn out from the exhaustion of surviving such social energy.
The talent show is amusing. Eric, Kevin, and Jeremy had to make up an entire skit for it because our skit idea and theme was stolen by the youth board the night before. We are annoyed. I do watch, more out of boredom than any substantial interest, and this is what I observe:
Eric is talented, as he plays the part of the King and the Princess.
Kevin is talented, as he plays the part of the Queen and the wise man.
J: Oh, wise man, I seek the Holy Spirit! Might you know where it is?
K: Erm, I dunno, I shall ask the king. Oh king!
E: I dunno. Let me ask my queen.
K (having moved to the king's other side): I don't know, I'll ask the princess!
E (having moved to the queen's other side): I don't know!
J: Grr!
On the second day of the act, the exact same scene happens. Except Jeremy is so fed up that he whacks Kevin with a broom, and the wise man is out of the story. Kevin contentedly now only plays the part of the queen. The king is knocked out the next day, and gradually the queen, and then, on the last day, the Princess panicks.
E: I don't know!!! Why don't you um, search inside yourself eh?!
J: Ah! I have been a fool! The Holy Spirit was inside me all along!
And so on.
We win the talent show (both the individual act and the group act). I am astounded, and so is everyone else, because the skit was made up practically on the spot while everyone else had been practicing for at least two months.
For the dance, I meander over to the "Free Expressions" Cafe. I sit and watch karyoke for a while, drinking almost an entire bottle of Dr. Pepper before I realize why I've been so strange during the course of the weekend.
I missed having Ralph around. Whether we were too absorbed in talking to notice the people around us, or watching Shrek on the TV with 10 other non-socialites, or last year when I actively avoided talking to him at all costs... I couldn't imagine. It was my last year of convention, and Ralph wasn't there. No "familiar" faces that I could point to and say, "Hey, I know that person. ------" and so on.
After a while, I pull Pride and Prejudice out of my backpack. I begin to read, and get four separate comments on how much the girls love that book. I am distracted several times by my own church members, who have come in to sing. Despite my determination not to be amused, I watch them humiliate themselves with the karyoke machine. Maura says hi to me, and so does Kevin.
On page 120, at midnight, we go back to the hotel. I fall soundly asleep within an hour, which I find in the morning upon waking up, singularly impressive.
I wake up at five, and shower, and later on, wake up my roommates. We troop down to breakfast, and I sit at a table with only one other person. We both eat in awkward silence until the girl's friends join her and talk incessantly, all the while ignoring the extra person.
During mass, I grind my teeth while holy hours are made obscene by rap music, massive amounts of applause, and the poor mass imitations of geese honking. I do not sway, and the people to either side of me are forced to hold hands in front of me instead of linking arms around shoulders and waists. I am in the way, and I'm not quite proud of it, but I would feel much worse having swayed.
During the sign of peace, I am hugged by many people, all girls, because I am almost completely surrounded by girls, except for Kevin, who came in late and sat on the end and only shook my hand instead.
After mass, our church makes a human pyramid. I am picked up and put on the second level, and something pops in my back when someone climbs on top of me.
We get on the bus. I am seated with a girl whose name I do not know. The ride is noisy, and I am not spoken to during the entirety of the ride except for Kevin, seated up one seat and across the isle, who asks me where I'm going to school.
After the bus arrives back at the church, I, with great trepidation and embarrassment, accept a ride home from Kevin. He cleans out his car and packs my bags in for me. I settle myself in the front passenger seat. He ejects his CD after turning on the car, no doubt embarrassed by the strains of "Maya heeee, mayaaa hawwwww" coming out of his speakers. I find an Utada Hikaru CD (Colors) and pull it out; it has the Kingdom Hearts song on it. He looks at me in surprise, and pulls out another UH CD. I look at it. The 7th track is Japanese characters with the word "NIGHT" after it.
Is this 'Tokyo Nights'? I ask, a little more excited than I should be. He nods, even more surprised, and puts the CD in for me.
He calls his brother on his cell phone to tell him that he is on the way after he drops someone off. I am not listening, at least, not until the moment when I hear "YOU PROPOSED?!"
I am all ears, so to speak.
Kevin talks excitedly into the phone for a long time, and then hangs up grinning. I point out that the conversation was rather interesting, from my side. He says that his brother Brian proposed to his girlfriend, which had been completely unexpected. I ask how old his brother is. He is 26 and a schoolteacher, having graduated at 22.
I say that I will probably have my bachelor's at 20. Wishful thinking, or not? Kevin looks at me, and I explain, suddenly cursing my tongue, that I've taken -- AP exams. He is amazed that I took calculus at -- age and is impressed when I brag about my school, in actual pride. I have no scruples in glorifying my school to the world.
As he drives down 55, he asks me where I'm going to college. I smile and tell him that he's already asked me this question, and he, embarrassed, doesn't remember my answer. I tell him again, and say that I want to write, but I will probably teach first.
He goes to Cary Academy, where there are - people going to Harvard, - at Yale, - at Oxford, and so on. I am impressed too, although I secretly harbor a dislike of Cary Academy, I have nothing against Kevin.
Finally, toward the end, I asked him what he's doing: Political science and journalism at Elon. I smile, and he explains that he will probably be "that guy who works with the press for the politician" because as a liberal Republican, he will never be elected.
We turned down the street to my house, and I, as socially awkward as ever, manage to make a little squeak to indicate where my house is.
It's not fair that I should be socially awkward. But I was rather proud that I had spent ten entire minutes talking to the same person, a person of whom I had known nothing before today.
During convention, I, the great connoisseur of human folly (yes, that is a reference), spent most of the time observing the going-ons from whatever position I was presently in. I sat on the curb during the carnival and exerted the most social effort when I thanked the cotton-candy man for letting me take one of the cones. The next most amount of effort was involved then when Kevin stopped by to ask me how I was doing. I said I was fine, and we both sat in silence until someone else from our church pulled him away to dance.
During the opening ceremony, I clenched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth, stolidly refusing to let myself be swayed - literally. With 950 people around you swaying, arms around each other, it's a little awkward to not be swaying, and a little more awkward to sway. The boys to one side of me grab me bodily and force me to sway, and I am almost positively bright red. I bear it in silent indignation.
At the break and after the first round of introductions and rules, Lauren sat next to me. I didn't know her name was Lauren at the time, and had no interest in finding out for about a half hour, until Msgr. Wall stepped up to bask in the cheers of the young crowd. He said a version of the Memorae, and I, ever witty, muttered that he must have learned the short one, because he'd cut out part of the ending ("despise not our petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer us"). Yeah, Lauren agrees. I look up at her, surprised, and she smiles and shrugs. Later on, while they crown Msgr. Wall honorary Pope, Lauren makes disapproving sounds and does not laugh. I crane my head awkwardly, trying to read her nametag, because yes, I still haven't figured out what her name is.
She's heard that I'm from Enloe, and asks me if I know ------. I nod, because ------ is in a few of my classes. She then joins in the swaying. I stare down at the ground for a long time.
When it is over, I see a nametag on the ground by my feet. I pick it up and offer it back to Lauren, memorizing her name. It isn't hard. As everyone crowds around the doors of the convention center to leave for the hotels, Lauren asks me if I've studied.
I look at her, puzzled. Studied what?
This. This faith.
I nearly jump. No one has ever asked me that before, and shyly, with the slightest hint of pride, nod. She smiles, and observes that a lot of people "here" have no idea what The Faith is about. I smile and nod again, and she grins. I blush, and manage to blurt out, a little awkwardly, "Y'know, I like people named Lauren." Lauren looks taken aback, and laughs, and we do not talk until afternoon the next day. Those are the last words I say aloud until we return to the hotel, and we part ways to our separate rooms. When I get to the hotel room with my three roommates, I tell them that I will shower in the morning, and that no, I don't want to share a bed, I'll sleep on the floor. There isn't an extra mattress or blankets, and I'm right next to the air conditioner, but I'm all right.
I wake up at five in the morning, four hours after I fell asleep. I am not in the least tired, and I sing to myself, quietly, in the shower. At six thirty I wake my roommates, who stumble out of bed groggily, all the while indignant about being woken up. I wait for them in silence and listen to talk of boyfriends and first loves until it is time for breakfast.
My breakfast tray is, fortunately, not heavy. I insinuate myself into a little corner seat and studiously avoid conversation except to explain that I will not be sitting there long.
The convention speakers are two young men in their twenties who can juggle while pretending to beat the living shit out of each other. I am duly impressed; they, at least, are worth my applause.
The first workshop I go to is about the Sacraments. We watch parts of the Lion King, Cheaper by the Dozen, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding (whatever that movie is called) to illustrate our Catholic ideas. I, seated comfortably in the second row, know this:
1. There are three levels of holy orders: deacons, priests, bishops
2. There are two kinds of deacons: permanent (usually married) and transitory (will become priests later)
3. Latin is a hard language
4. The Greek Orthodox Church is more conservative
It is lunch time. I join in with the rest, and manage to seat myself at a table with my group. I miss most of the conversation because I stood in a ten minute line to get a cup of Pepsi.
My second workshop is on Protestant Challenges. I have no trouble in this shop, and know this:
1. The idea of a Seventh-Day Adventist made no sense
2. Protestants changed the Bible
3. We love everyone, and everyone hates us
4. Rosaries are hard to make
5. My Bible is a good translation
The third workshop is on challenges within the faith. I know this, and I read my Bible for some of the time:
1. Mary is not a Goddess
2. Women should not be priests (but maybe being a deacon is okay)
3. Abortion is bad, and so is war and stuff
I realize that the theme is "Catch the Spirit", and this apparently is embodied by people blowing bubbles and other people popping them. Either that, or the Spirit is represented by multi-colored frisbees that are thrown through the air, inside the convention center.
At dinner, I bump into Carrie, whom I have met only twice before in my life. She is as chirpy as always, and we talk for about 15 seconds before she moves on to get her own dinner. Something sets my allergies off before dinner is done, and I am escorted back to the hotel room.
We change into "dance" clothes. The girls wear skirts. I remain unaware that Meredith's shirt is thrown all over the room, even right in front of my face, because I am sound asleep, worn out from the exhaustion of surviving such social energy.
The talent show is amusing. Eric, Kevin, and Jeremy had to make up an entire skit for it because our skit idea and theme was stolen by the youth board the night before. We are annoyed. I do watch, more out of boredom than any substantial interest, and this is what I observe:
Eric is talented, as he plays the part of the King and the Princess.
Kevin is talented, as he plays the part of the Queen and the wise man.
J: Oh, wise man, I seek the Holy Spirit! Might you know where it is?
K: Erm, I dunno, I shall ask the king. Oh king!
E: I dunno. Let me ask my queen.
K (having moved to the king's other side): I don't know, I'll ask the princess!
E (having moved to the queen's other side): I don't know!
J: Grr!
On the second day of the act, the exact same scene happens. Except Jeremy is so fed up that he whacks Kevin with a broom, and the wise man is out of the story. Kevin contentedly now only plays the part of the queen. The king is knocked out the next day, and gradually the queen, and then, on the last day, the Princess panicks.
E: I don't know!!! Why don't you um, search inside yourself eh?!
J: Ah! I have been a fool! The Holy Spirit was inside me all along!
And so on.
We win the talent show (both the individual act and the group act). I am astounded, and so is everyone else, because the skit was made up practically on the spot while everyone else had been practicing for at least two months.
For the dance, I meander over to the "Free Expressions" Cafe. I sit and watch karyoke for a while, drinking almost an entire bottle of Dr. Pepper before I realize why I've been so strange during the course of the weekend.
I missed having Ralph around. Whether we were too absorbed in talking to notice the people around us, or watching Shrek on the TV with 10 other non-socialites, or last year when I actively avoided talking to him at all costs... I couldn't imagine. It was my last year of convention, and Ralph wasn't there. No "familiar" faces that I could point to and say, "Hey, I know that person. ------" and so on.
After a while, I pull Pride and Prejudice out of my backpack. I begin to read, and get four separate comments on how much the girls love that book. I am distracted several times by my own church members, who have come in to sing. Despite my determination not to be amused, I watch them humiliate themselves with the karyoke machine. Maura says hi to me, and so does Kevin.
On page 120, at midnight, we go back to the hotel. I fall soundly asleep within an hour, which I find in the morning upon waking up, singularly impressive.
I wake up at five, and shower, and later on, wake up my roommates. We troop down to breakfast, and I sit at a table with only one other person. We both eat in awkward silence until the girl's friends join her and talk incessantly, all the while ignoring the extra person.
During mass, I grind my teeth while holy hours are made obscene by rap music, massive amounts of applause, and the poor mass imitations of geese honking. I do not sway, and the people to either side of me are forced to hold hands in front of me instead of linking arms around shoulders and waists. I am in the way, and I'm not quite proud of it, but I would feel much worse having swayed.
During the sign of peace, I am hugged by many people, all girls, because I am almost completely surrounded by girls, except for Kevin, who came in late and sat on the end and only shook my hand instead.
After mass, our church makes a human pyramid. I am picked up and put on the second level, and something pops in my back when someone climbs on top of me.
We get on the bus. I am seated with a girl whose name I do not know. The ride is noisy, and I am not spoken to during the entirety of the ride except for Kevin, seated up one seat and across the isle, who asks me where I'm going to school.
After the bus arrives back at the church, I, with great trepidation and embarrassment, accept a ride home from Kevin. He cleans out his car and packs my bags in for me. I settle myself in the front passenger seat. He ejects his CD after turning on the car, no doubt embarrassed by the strains of "Maya heeee, mayaaa hawwwww" coming out of his speakers. I find an Utada Hikaru CD (Colors) and pull it out; it has the Kingdom Hearts song on it. He looks at me in surprise, and pulls out another UH CD. I look at it. The 7th track is Japanese characters with the word "NIGHT" after it.
Is this 'Tokyo Nights'? I ask, a little more excited than I should be. He nods, even more surprised, and puts the CD in for me.
He calls his brother on his cell phone to tell him that he is on the way after he drops someone off. I am not listening, at least, not until the moment when I hear "YOU PROPOSED?!"
I am all ears, so to speak.
Kevin talks excitedly into the phone for a long time, and then hangs up grinning. I point out that the conversation was rather interesting, from my side. He says that his brother Brian proposed to his girlfriend, which had been completely unexpected. I ask how old his brother is. He is 26 and a schoolteacher, having graduated at 22.
I say that I will probably have my bachelor's at 20. Wishful thinking, or not? Kevin looks at me, and I explain, suddenly cursing my tongue, that I've taken -- AP exams. He is amazed that I took calculus at -- age and is impressed when I brag about my school, in actual pride. I have no scruples in glorifying my school to the world.
As he drives down 55, he asks me where I'm going to college. I smile and tell him that he's already asked me this question, and he, embarrassed, doesn't remember my answer. I tell him again, and say that I want to write, but I will probably teach first.
He goes to Cary Academy, where there are - people going to Harvard, - at Yale, - at Oxford, and so on. I am impressed too, although I secretly harbor a dislike of Cary Academy, I have nothing against Kevin.
Finally, toward the end, I asked him what he's doing: Political science and journalism at Elon. I smile, and he explains that he will probably be "that guy who works with the press for the politician" because as a liberal Republican, he will never be elected.
We turned down the street to my house, and I, as socially awkward as ever, manage to make a little squeak to indicate where my house is.
It's not fair that I should be socially awkward. But I was rather proud that I had spent ten entire minutes talking to the same person, a person of whom I had known nothing before today.