EPTJourney to the End of the Night
I titled this blog the same as Celine's book because I feel like I've undertaken a form of journey. While I haven't contracted Yellow Fever, nor have I capitulated the meaning of my life to complete chance (and not in my favor either), I just had a life changing experience, but now the journey is over.
I started in this convention when I was a 6th grader or so. We are going to call this convention MCSY. The initials here are made up, though it resembles the original acronym somewhat. Undoubtedly, I hated the time I spent there in 6th grade. Long story short, I was at this convention, which has a religious part of it and is sponsored by a religious organization, and was told that I wasn't observant enough; I am not, have never, and most likely will never be as observant as a lot of the kids that went there. The trip was about 3 days long, over the long weekend, and it was nothing short of awful for me. I spent my time playing Jenga and doing 6th grader things (whatever that is for a kid without friends at a religious convention). I told myself I'd never go back to the convention. And, I didn't for a long time.
For 3 years I stayed away, until my 9th grade summer. At that point, I had changed schools and had a great many troubles befall me; at least from a religious perspective, I had my world fall apart. I'm not a religious guy, I should say, I'm not a Hassidic Jew or a Born Again Chrisitian or a Son of Muhammad (I think that is the term?), but I'm more religious than an atheist or agnostic (though my family is half agnostic and half partially practicing, which is a lot like me). I had a religious fall out for leaving, I'm not going to give the details in this blog, I think I've given those details before, back when my blogs had little shape and contained enough memes for more than one day of blogs, but I don't remember for sure. I lost a lot of friends and my world fell apart. I talked to a religious teacher of mine, a guy who my family wanted me to talk to, but pursued talking to me on his own accord. He convinced to try the Senior division of MCSY, and I did. I went to Camp Chi in the Wisconsin Dells that year. I loved it. I made more friends than I could have imagined, several of those friendships have lasted me for more than just the four years I've spent in MCSY.
Because of this freshman year experience, I decided that the best thing for me would be to attend more conventions. I attended two out of five conventions the next year. I formed a new friend group, and began to piece together my religious life again. While doing so, I formed closer bonds with the kids at my new school. In the end, I joined the "Nerd Herd" at my new school, and formed a precious and fleeting menagerie of friends from my old religious life and MCSY life. This all fell apart. My friend group became something I didn't like, I didn't enjoy being with all the guys, all the time, my MCSY group had a love triangle made of stronger stuff than the friendships between us all (especially since these revolved around a facebook group which kept us all in contact), and my religious patchwork dried up as soon as I attempted to bring it back. I entered what my mom called a depression, and maybe, probably, she was right. I never really came out of this depression in her eyes, at least in terms of my highschool years.
Life goes on though. I couldn't make it my junior year to any of the MCSY events, my friends wanted me to come, and I wanted to dearly. I couldn't because of the IB program, I was too caught up in just trying to get A's or B's in my classes. Add a few family tragedies and a new relationship, and you come up with the math equation for a busy student when you sprinkle in more extracurriculars than I probably should have taken on. I decided that I would take a trip to see my friends in chicago to make up for it, and I did. And my friend group healed, it seemed so at least, just like that. Of course there was drama, I'm not going to woo you with any more highschool drama since I've graduated (for now), and of course my MCSY group remained tentative. Somehow, however, we all made it through.
Senior year came around, I began to ask serious religious questions that I had been repressing, as I did with all the emotion of those 3 previous years, and needed to let out. I began asking the very man who brought me to MCSY these questions, I sought him out this time. He helped me, he never told me what to believe, but he did allow me to keep any belief in god I have now as intact as it can be given my history and my interest in philosophy. My friendships, and I, had matured, everything, including my religion had reached a point of healing. Like the forefathers, I reached a point where I had to put my head to the stone, and take a brief respite. It was like a ladder, MCSY that is, I realize, that brought me to places and then took me back to real life. Same as always, I planned to attend a few events, but this time I only attended one, the last convention of my highschool career, at Camp Chi; the way I started out this world is the way I leave it, I guess.
I spent the weekend freezing my southern ass off. It was cold compared the straight 90 degree weather here. I had no sleeping bag or pillow, no blankets either, and had to borrow a sleeping bag and use my towel as a blanket. I got a tick on my head (I have A LOT of hair on my head, my mane, as its sometimes called), and had to get it taken out over a two day period. Despite these little setbacks, this last time, the end of my journey, was marvelous. It was smattered with golden memories, nostalgia that I won't find hard to become nostalgic about. The last time I get to see my friends at a convention, the last time I get to sing and dance, the last time We Will All Be Together.
I convalesced over the trip. Four years of pain I had kept in, chained up in the deep heart's core. The last day was something I had needed to happen for four years, the end of an era, the end of depression. Kids I had known came up to me, told me that I was the reason they had come back to conventions, that I was the reason they made a change to become more accepting of not-as-religious kids, told me I was one of the first people they had met on MCSY and were glad they had met me, and finally people who told me that they had only met me for a day, but felt as though they had met me for a life time. I had taken a patchwork, and woven a family from the strands. I cried one tear, just one drop when my name was called for the ceremonial congratulation seniors, but then I cried a lot more - normally I never cry, I physically can't, no matter how emotionally intense an episode becomes - on my friends shoulders. It was the end, and I don't think any of us wanted it to be. The seniors, and a lot of the other kids stayed up all night together. We told stories, and I let mine out. Out about how at MCSY I was just a kid at the conventions, how, despite the reactions I had received at home, I was accepted at the conventions; I was just a kid, not some asshole going to hell because of a decision, was the way I remember putting it. It all came out then, we began singing a camp song, and I just started sobbing, all the pain just came out, it was expunged. I exploded sadness, but recomposed myself in happiness, in a way. I felt better, is a less over-the-top way of saying it, I guess. I didn't feel the same pain as before. I just let it all out.
After that, people came up to me, told me they found solace in what I said, told me they had never known I had sorrow like that, and I told them that I had faith in them. My journey, that night, for the last four years, for all of the night, was at that point over. The 13 hour drive back home was less than fun, but I finished Man's Fate (which is an extraordinary novel) and began For Whom the Bell Tolls which is written interestingly, to say the least. My journey ended on a high note, rather than a low one.
Thanks for reading, TL, I hope this is at least somewhat relatable for you guys (I know that relatable isn't a word
). 
