Like my esteemed fellow columnist Eric Dryden, I am flying to Europe for next quarter. His column earlier this week about going back home got me thinking.
On the one hand, he has a point - we shouldn't forget where we came from. But on the other hand, my friends, attitudes and behavior from high school are just that: from high school. They define who I was then.
That's not to say there are no remnants of that person in the Chris DeVille of today. I keep in close contact with many friends from high school - I'll be living with one next year; I even play in a band with a high school buddy that goes to Ohio State. And I generally like to spend my free time in the same ways now as I did back then.
Yet my whole world view - hell, my whole world! - has been altered by the things I have seen and done, and most of all by the people I've met in Athens. (If you know me and you think I'm talking about you, I am. And if you think I'm not talking about you, I am.)
These people have eased me into new perspectives, or sometimes banged me over the head with said perspectives. They have helped me out in tough times. Even those folks who have caused me more pain than pleasure have helped me out; in the book of James in the Bible, it says Consider it pure joy
my brothers whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. That sounds about right to me.
Above all, I have enjoyed getting to know all these people. Friendships have blessed my life. This puts me in an interesting spot. You see, when it comes to studying abroad, I'm happy to go, but I'm sad to leave.
A mere five quarters ago, I left home and came to Athens. Now, it turns out that by leaving Athens, I'm leaving home. How can this scary, foreign land have become my bastion of safety from another scary, foreign land?
Oddly enough, I am not nearly as intimidated by going to Spain as I was by coming to Athens. Perhaps it is because after living through so many of them, a quarter seems like such a temporary engagement. Four years is a long commitment, but 10 weeks is a lark, barely two months. I'll be in and out of that country faster than the thieves in Barcelona will be in and out of my back pocket. It's hard to worry about whether life in Spain will be joyous or torturous when I know it all will be over so quickly.
Yet I'm still scared. I don't think it's the fear of going to a new place; rather, it's the fear of leaving the old. It's humbling to realize the world keeps moving without you. And to put it bluntly (and all sappy-like), I'm going to miss tons of people here.
Despite my love for Spring Quarter, trading one spring at OU for a potential life-changing season in Pamplona still seems like a fantastic deal, even now that it's staring me in the face. But I think that phrase, life-changing
is what scares me the most. I'm really happy with the recent developments in my life; things seem great, and I fear the altered perspective that new people and new experiences are bound to bring. Though I'll just be gone temporarily, will the situations be the same when I step back into them? And will I look at them all the same way? Probably not - and to be conscious of this phenomenon is frightening.
Still, if I've learned anything from this college stuff, it's that change looks a lot more menacing from the front side. So with that in mind, I say Spain or bust! I'll see you all when I get back home.
DeVille is a freakin' sap. Send him an e-mail at christopher.deville@ohiou.edu.
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Chris DeVille
