Nostalgic Longing

The subject of apologetics fascinates me. I like understanding why faith is reasonable immensely.

Two nights ago I found myself watching a debate between Richard Dawkins and William Lane Craig on YouTube. Debates are usually a waste of time to watch, and I'm not sure this one was any exception. But I did find a rare conversation in the comments section of the video where two people of counter perspectives were engaging in constructive dialogue as to whether Craig's arguments are credible and worthy of acceptance. These two are definitely above my ability to converse. Nevertheless, their dialogue left me with unanswered thoughts and questions and I heartily wrote out the most thoughtful response I could muster late into the night. I didn't know what response I'd get.

The next morning I saw there was a nice comment from the person who holds the counter view to my own. He essentially said, "I appreciate your response. It's well thought out even though I see some flaws in it. I don't have time to respond now but I'll let the other person respond first."

I haven't got any further response to it yet–and I may not. That's OK. But the thing was that it was so exciting to see that. It's like having a friend. A friend of a special sort. Where you write our your mind and finds that someone else appreciates and accepts it. Even if it's not a mainstream or popular thought. Apologetics fits that category. There are so many things that interest me that don't seem to interest others. This makes meaningful conversation on those subjects nearly impossible with others nearly impossible, because unless another person is already interested in a given subject, it would require teaching the subject first in order to engage it. So I find it's hard to find friends who engage at a deeper intellectual level, especially when most people my age just want to have a good time.

It's lonely for me sometimes. I confessed that to a friend of mine a few months ago when we were texting. It saddened her to hear that. I didn't describe as an intellectual loneliness because I hadn't yet identified that that was the issue. When she asked what she could do, at first I had no answer. But knowing that she really wanted to help in some way I kept thinking about her question. A day later I asked if she'd be interested to get together to read. (Which felt like the best idea in the world–true love reads together.) In every good way, however, she is a near opposite to myself. She agreed, of course, to read together. I realized during that visit, though, that it's not something that suits her personality the way it does mine. She's very intelligent. She's also very extraverted. (This one of the things I appreciate most about her because it makes it easy for us to be friends). But that same quality meant that during the time we had to read, (between my parents, my friend and myself), we probably spent more time visiting than reading. I didn't mind much as I was mostly thankful for the simple gift of spending time with her but I certainly was a little intellectually disappointed.

Anyway... All that to say that I guess everyday relationships don't seem to satisfy the deeper intellectual longings that I have. College was my happy place. I had a ton of friends and lots of classwork and classmates to keep my mind going. It's hard for me now that I've moved on from there.

Before going to college, I had this blog. This blog got me through high school. Don't know if I've written about this on here before, but it's true. I didn't plan for this blog to be anything important but it was. My friends in high school didn't understand me. My family didn't understand me. (And a lot of people still have trouble.) I turned to this blog as a means of expressing what had no expression otherwise. An outlet to share stories. A place to ask my questions. It was my secret place. And I really kept it secret. I was nervous for anyone even to know about, though I did share it with one older friend.

Then the unbelievable happened. My anonymous blog that I thought no one would ever read received its first comment. That was from my first online friend Samantha Marie. It delighted me to read her blogs and that she, another Christian girl, just a few years older than myself, was interested to read mine. My favourite part of everyday was logging on to see if she had written something new. Though her I became connected to our other blogging friend, dragonflysoul. She was something like ten years older than me at the time, being twenty-seven then. That seemed like a huge age gap at the time but she was a good friend nonetheless. (Now it won't be long before I'm twenty-seven (in a couple years) and it's hard to believe that so much time has past.)

Samantha Marie and dragonflysoul were my two best friends in high school. Isn't that amazing?! Two people I had never met–and still haven't–were my best friends in high school hands down. When I went to Washington, DC for Move DC (Kony 2012) I thought I might have had the chance to meet dragonflysoul, because that's where lives (lived?) but it didn't end up working out. I have no idea how Samantha Marie found my blog that first time but I'm so thankful she did. But things petered out more or less by the time I graduated high school. They got busy and life moved on. They might have started new blogs. Who knows!

I've tried starting a number of blogs since things died down here, but I never keep going with them because I've never been able to gain a sense of online community the way I first did here. I think I've always been longing for that since then. I miss that sense of feeling known on a deeper level. That's what the comment on YouTube yesterday reminded me of. A sense of being recognized. A sense of being understood and valued for the thoughts inside my head. A sense of some importance because someone else values my thoughts. I don't know where to find that anymore. (Tumblr's the one exception to the new blogs I've started, though. It's become the place where I collect my finished poetry.)

I feel like I'm writing, foolishly hoping, that one day someone will find this blog again and revive the experience that I had back then. I don't expect that to happen. But writing here feels like writing to a friend. Like writing to someone who understands. I won't make any promises about whether I'll keep writing here more again. But after so many repeated years of coming back to this place, I think I can expect that I'll keep returning here. Till next time... here's me, missing my old blog.