We're plagued by the all too common questions:
What city are you from? Where do babies come from? What country is your family from?
From. They're all looking for the same thing: origin. Roots. Beginnings. The essence of existence. And I'd like to tell you I care about that, but I don't.
I didn't care in school. The "get to know you" surveys and exercises with fellow classmates on the first day. When I tell you where I'm from, you can act interested. But trust me, I get it.
I'm a little more interested in habits, hobbies, ambitions. What drives you? How do you spend your Saturdays? What's your most irrational fear? What's on your heart right this second?
5th grade. "The Movie." Remember that? I didn't care about origin then. I pretended to understand diagrams of the human reproductive organs, refrained from asking a single question about menstruation, and rode the bus home wondering if boys would stare at my chest for the rest of my life.
Next thing I know, I'm taking a sexual psychology class in college and reevaluating my ignorance. Pair the science of sexual reproduction with Sigmund Freud's philosophies and a couple of interesting guest speakers, and I'm hooked. I don't want to know how or where. I want to know why. Always why.
Exposition is nice. It's background. It's your background. That ought to be fascinating, right?
Well when you start a conversation with me about Poland after I tell you half of my heritage lies there, I'll get embarrassed. Sure, I'll tell you how delicious pierogis are, and maybe throw out a few fun facts. This is because I feel socially obligated to. Have I
been to Poland? Do I know the language? Does my Polish ancestry affect my everyday life? No.
For many people, it does. That's because their past has likely been made into their present. Folks, we live there; in the current, active chaos. Right there. And every act made in the present affects our future: the "not yet," the world to be discovered. These are the realms I'm interested in.
So rather than discuss the world I no longer live in, the world I've disassociated myself with by nature of familial priority, I'd love to talk about the history yet to be made. After all, this world is vast. We, as people, are vast. Each one of us has a world inside, much of which is left unexplored. I want to explore it.
You may not agree, and I welcome your argument. Discover and rediscover these sentences and your relationship with them. Let's chat about it, about anything.
Anything other than what happened yesterday.
–story by LINDSEY MAZUR