Him, Him, and Probably Him

Let me tell you the story of my life. It begins on a dark night. Where a dark man waits - with a dark purpose...

Wait...what? That's not right. My story starts out with me living in southern California; The Palm Desert area, to be precise. I had a goodly amount of friends, and we had some good times. You know, as friends are wont to do. 

Then one day my family up and moved to Alaska. Alaska! From one clime to a completely different one. And, of course, I couldn't exactly take any of my non-familial friends with me. Thus, I had to start anew.

Find some guy. Make friend. Repeat as desired. I made a decent amount of close companions. I probably would have made even more - if we hadn't moved again three years later, this time to rural Pennsylvania. 

It was a sabbatical, of sorts. A time to recover and thinks things over. Lord knows that, me being the eleven-year-old that I was, I definitely had some things to ponder. 

So I took six months to get in touch with my roots. I reflected on my life, and where it was going. And I'm pretty sure I met no-one who really qualified as a non-related friend. At first, I had planned to do this for three months. But, as I neared the end of that time, I decided that I really, sincerely enjoyed being surrounded by a lack of peers with whom I could hang out with, and made the decision to stay an additional three months. Feeding goats all the while. I think that ought to get me out of a couple years of purgatory. 

I'm just thankful there was electricity (Amishamish. Pokepoke). 

Anyways, the family then transitioned back to California. This time, however, we were in northern California; Sacramento, to be precise. Get to reconnect with all my old friends? No dice. 

However, thanks to a certain youth group staying at our house in Alaska while they were on a mission trip, I basically had some instant friends. And then I got to meet all their siblings, and I had even more friends. I basically had friends coming out my ears. Friend overload. More friends then I knew what to do with. Well, that's debatable. After all, there was one time...Hold up! I'm getting off subject.

Really, to make that long story short (although saying this really defeats the purpose of the whole section above), I moved around a lot, and pretty much never had contact with any of my friends from southern California. Oh sure, there were one or two encounters (which were both lots of fun), but for the most part, I spent three years in Alaska, six months in Pennsylvania, and then six years in Sacramento, California just living my life as though I had no friends in Southern California.

Then, I came to Vanguard, and everything changed. There's so many people here on campus that I've known, or known someone who knows them, or even known someone who knows someone who knows them. It's pretty weird. At least I already knew some of them were attending Vanguard, so it wasn't too much of a shock.

Anyways, to give an example, move-in day. I get all my things up to my room (without me carrying a thing. Crazy. Read my second blog entry for more information), look across the hall, and see the name Tim Krapivkin boldly blazoned across the door on a little piece of green paper tastefully taped to it. 

Oh Tim. Was never really the greatest friends with him, him being closer to my brother's age and all, but still. It was just weird. And then his younger brother (more my friend in years past) moves in several doors down. Oh Jon. 

So here are two guys - practically ghosts from my past - living and breathing again as though I hadn't just missed out on ten years of their lives. I bet they felt the same way, but in a much less philosophical mien (and admittedly, I didn't really think of it that way. It just sounded fun). 

Others were soon to follow.

I had heard from a reliable source that arguably my best friend from Palm Desert (although sometimes I wonder if I just liked him so much because he had video games. And then I think of what a horrible person I am) was attending Vanguard, and had been for a year. 

"Huzzah!" went my thoughts. I'll be able to reestablish some kind of friendly connection that will allow me to again get to know one of my best friends. 

At some point, I saw someone who I thought was him, but after the real one showed up at my room, I realized the first one wasn't him. Just some random guy - or so I thought (scroll down for more). 

Anyways, we talked, it was just like old times, and things were cool. We don't actually hang out with each other a whole lot - although I have his roommate in one of my classes - but we see a lot of each other around campus, which is definitely a step up from a year ago. Oh Matthew. Or Matt, as he is now often called.

Then, at church last Sunday, this guy walks up to me, shakes my hand, and goes "Hey Elijah! Great to see you!" 

Aside from realizing this was the guy I had mistaken for Matthe...Matt, it took me a moment to realize this was another friend from Southern California. Well, really more my brother's friend, but we definitely knew each other.

I had seen him around campus several times; it just never clicked that I knew him. I blame it on the fact that all the recent pictures I've seen of him don't involve him wearing glasses, or having the type of hairstyle he now has. Oh Kyle. 

So yeah. It's just like old times...except different. I have all my really old friends - minus a few - I have a lot of new friends, and I can still keep in touch with my other friends, thanks to the miracle of the internet. 

And then I discovered that one of the guys on my floor is the brother of one of the girls my brother used to date. Ca. Razy. 

It really is a small world, after all...Oh my. I think I just threw up a little.