Here we go!

Stories, everyone has them, but so few people know them, the meaningful ones that is. The ones that make you, you. For the longest time I have sworn to myself that I would write a book, I've always loved to read and write, but when I turned 18 a lot of things were going on in my life and I decided I wanted to write everything down that I could remember from the time I was born to the present. I wrote my first chapter but didn't get too much further than that. It's so easy to be completely motivated about something one minute and then life happens and the next minute you have totally forgotten your original intentions and passions and yearnings. Time has passed since my 18th birthday and since that first chapter was written, and each day the thought of that book and the many stories laying in the back of my mind seem to grow fainter and fainter, yet I still push them to the side with the excuse that I will one day write that book and tell my stories. It hit me today however that the longer I wait the more I will forget. It might take time for me to get into the routine of writing on a regular basis again, but I figure that a little is better than nothing.

Strike One

So, attempt number one didn't go so well. I approached an older woman sitting alone on a park bench near Sheep's Meadow. I asked her if she had a few minutes and she sweetly replied that she did, so I sat down next to her and introduced myself. I told her what I had been thinking, and that everyone has a story, with which she immediately closed her eyes, shook her head and said, "I have no story..." After ensuring her that there were no strings attached and that I was just curious, she again said no, so I left.

I also realized that if some random person were to come up to me, I probably would say the same thing, that I have no story. People are so closed off, no one knows who to trust, much less I complete stranger in central park. This of course was discouraging for my first try, but it isn't to be unexpected.

It's going to change from person to person, but I can't expect someone to completely open up to someone they don't know. From now on I really have to introduce myself, say where I'm from, where I go to college, what I'm doing exactly, etc. It's definitely a lot harder to go up to some random person than I thought it would be.

Part of me would love not to do it again, but the curious side of me still wonders who out there has something to say, I'm not going to give up yet.

The Beginning

Who are these people we see every day? Each single person having a story of their own, each unique in itself, many easily able to relate to the other, and all contributing to the tangled web known as life. Where did they come from? How is their life different from how they expected it would be earlier in their lives? What would their reaction be to someone inquiring on that story? Would they be offended, shocked that someone cares enough to know, or maybe unsure of the consequences that opening themselves up to someone could bring? Would it bring relief? Sadness? Pleasant memories or harsh realities? This is what I am on a journey this summer to find out. Will people open up to me, or just ignore the questions. Stay tuned!