Freak Flags.

Everyone is their own weird. It’s really is beautiful, poetic thing, weirdness. It gives you color, energy, life. It gives you a soul to shared with the world, as weird as it may be.

I think this space, this Minor in Writing blog, should showcase more of our weirdness. We should let our freak flags fly. Walking through town, in the open spaces and crowded street corners we call our own, we carry our weird with us. Why not be who we are in the social performance of the World Wide Web? Too many times, I find myself annoyed that people are trying to filter their world, filter themselves to those  looking to know them.

I’ll start.

My weirdness is fully exposed in one situation: while playing Apples to Apples.

The ambient noises of coffee shops is incredibly soothing.

I love kombucha. (Google it.)

Minimal objects and clean. That is how I live.

A sauna sweat heals all.

I watch more wrestling than humanly healthy.

Snail mail is the best thing. Best, best thing. Send it more.

I always pick the handicapped bathroom stall in a public restroom because they don’t make me feel as claustrophobic.

Your turn. Let it fly.

Oregon Trail.

On Monday, I was in the scenic state of Oregon. The bus departed from Ann Arbor  at 5 am on Saturday morning in order to catch our flight out of the Detroit airport. I am back home in Ann Arbor, finishing an extended weekend of travel (across the country) full of wrestling workouts, family pride, excessive amounts of caffeine, and little food, as well as a week packed of what I like to call “Mack truck midterms.” Yet again, here I am, thinking about how blessed I am to be surrounded with people that truly look out for me.

Too often our values – the ultimate morals of the stories we tell – become tainted by ill feeling, stress, insecurity, and even failure. We think that this grind we are subject to isn’t fair, that our lives are constantly being interrupted by bothersome details and bureaucratic hurdles. There are people across the world taking in part of something bigger than themselves. They aren’t shying away from a global challenge. They are working as change agents in a country and for a cause that faces an enormous hurdle ahead. The fight to keep the sport of wrestling in the Olympic Games for the 2020 Summer Games has just begun in Tehran, Iran, at the 2012 wrestling World Cup.

You see, we are who we surround ourselves with, who we align with, who we wish to identify with. However, whether we feel it or not, we are who we move. We move those around us by our passion, our ideas (literary or otherwise) and our personal brand. At this moment in my life, I’m blessed to call Ann Arbor my home. But no matter where our homes are, we’ll always be fighting for something and need someone there beside us along the way, just like the Oregon Trail.