In 2019 I went on a second date that really stuck with me (I went on a lot of dates that year) with an illustrator. We met in Boston, biked to the Arboretum, climbed up the highest tree, and shared noodles at a bar. We also held hands and kissed but the most significant part was the conversations we had, including the following:
“What do stories mean to you?”
“That’s a broad question, especially on a date. What do you mean?”
“What role do stories serve in your life? Yeah there’s the benefit and value of creating and reading, but beyond that. Do you think you’re in one right now? And who’s story is it? And what’s the story really about? Is it about you, or is it someone else’s story?”
“Don’t forget that the story might be about something else entirely. Think about how many romances end in tragedy”
“Yeah! Who are you here for? Are we side characters in a backdrop, or are we here to help deliver a message?”
“That’s a good date question. I like it”
“So what do you think?”
“They do mean a lot to me. It’s an organized way of looking at life and enjoying the process. Everyone’s got their own story that they’re their own protagonist, and you even get crossovers where different stories get to interact a bit. I’m definitely living out my own story. It changes though, and it’s multiple stories. Like, right now, who’d want to read a story just about going on dates? That can’t be your entire life story”
“Um, yeah, funny thing about that...”
“What”
It was then I found out she was also a graphic novelist and this date just missed making it into her manuscript about her experience dating in Boston (she went a lot of dates) (no I still don’t know how I’d feel if I was characterized in her literal story about dating)
Words are great. Stephen King said it best when reading is basically the meeting of minds across time and space. Telepathy, in the most effective medium. I still have journals from Six Year Old Benjamin, a chore assigned from my parents. While I really appreciate opening them up to reconnect with Past Benjamin, I hated writing them then and still hate it a bit now- mostly because wading through the noise of my mind figuring itself out isn’t really enjoyable. Still though, reading and writing are my preferred mediums for mind meeting
That and pictures. Oh, and music
Considering how great that day was, I’m a little bitter this is the only picture I took. I try to hang out at that tree when I have time down in Boston
It’s day ninety four of quarantine and social distancing and pandemic and protesting and injustice. It adds up to a lot of noise in the minds. Whoever’s story this is, this better not be the prelude opening to some grimdark post apocalyptic tearjerker where everyone dies. Revolution is cool and all, but I refuse to have any part of the Hunger Games
Chances are if you’re reading this in 2020, you had to wade through a lot of that noise. That noise is overwhelming, and for good reason- some stories that are decades and centuries in the making, and they’re getting some major chapters written now as we figure ourselves out now.
If you’re reading this, good work on the noise-wading. If you haven’t considered some variant of the story question, I hope you do now, and that you’re encouraged to participate more in your story. Maybe you don’t want to share it with others: that’s fine, it’s up to you. It’s especially hard to share now with all of the other stories playing out now. But I highly recommend documenting it some way to appreciate it later. Going to try to do that here more often
Speaking of which check out my cousin’s SoundCloud, this is his medium, and here’s his story amidst everything. I’m really proud that he’s sharing his story