Six days ago marked the third year anniversary since I originally applied for the scholarship to Germany that would change my life. As I sit here in my flat at the base of the Rocky Mountains, I feel like I owe the list of people who reached out to me personally for advice on their exchange and intercultural experiences an apology, and I give you all exactly that. This blog started as something minuscule, something that I could use to track my thoughts and experiences as I ventured off into the unknown realms of Europe to try and find myself with clarity in this befuddled world. This blog almost served as a crutch, something that I could project my confusion and struggles onto and lean on for protection knowing that no matter what, my thoughts and feelings were not just trapped within me. As my time in Germany flourished into something beautiful, my handicap diminished, dispelling an emotional attachment to this blog that I had once felt. Life was about experience, not preserving a memory in mint condition. That was life, that was my tunnel-visioned justification, that was that. Let me catch you up.
Life following my last post was chaos, to say the least. A life of bliss in Berlin turned into an American Senior Year that I guess I didn’t prepare myself for personally as well as I should have. Alas, I thrived, nose-dived, and survived. I decided on University of Colorado, I traveled to Birmingham, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Orlando, and when I was done obsessing over high school competitiveness, I packed my bags and moved to the mountains.
Boulder is beautiful. This is a city where one grows personally daily by simply staring at the Flatirons. This is a city where creativity thrives off of the brilliance behind a breakthrough as much as the words of ridiculousness that are bounced off walls and alleyways. This is a city where bikers have more rights than drivers, where you’ll be charged for using a plastic bag, and where you either join the Yogis or you “simply are”. I will not lie by saying I’ve had my doubts, as every man and woman does, but there is a grounding here that ignites an effervescent passion to do what I love and never stop. I’ve been asking myself periodically lately, whether I be here, Springfield, or somewhere high up in between, “how did I get here?” At first when I couldn’t answer that to the fullest extent I jumped to the conclusion that since I don’t know how I got here, I have no purpose here. On the contrary, my friends. There is a reasoning, a reasoning I myself do not understand as to what pulled me here, but deep down, I feel a greatness and a success blooming as I continue to grow and learn from the beauty that the people and city here hold. My life has only gotten more dynamic as I continue to chalk year upon year up, and even the brief amount of time I have spent here has helped me learn how to turn chaos into happiness and positivity, and if that’s all I am to get from here, so be it; most people spend their whole lives trying to learn that.
So. Germany is over and my life has gone on. What does that mean for this blog? I’ll be the first to say that I wasn’t sure what to do when someone told me I should start writing again, but that has changed. This blog is evolving, evolving into something more than just a memoir of Germany. Germany is the seed of this operation, but the stems, leaves, buds, and fruit were what made the plant the spectacle that it was; art, history, culture, music, media, intercultural communication, and global relationships. I want this site to be something more than a journal. It needs to become a place where the anatomy of that beautiful plant can be dissected and understood and collaborated over by people from every country, every background, and every computer/phone/tablet screen. I end this by asking a question: what does this last paragraph mean to you? What direction do you foresee this going that excites you? You’re a loyal group, readers. Thank you.
Goodnight, from the Rockies with love.