From April 16, 2008
With less than three weeks to go, I might as well start to begin the reflection process.
I never planned to be apart of Campus Crusade for Christ. I knew I wanted to be sure that my faith wouldn't take a lapse as I entered college, but to be honest, a Christian fellowship wasn't the forefront of my mind, never really being apart of one before. I just wanted to meet a few Christian people and attend a church, and I figured I'd be golden.
So during the the otherwise pointless occasion known as "Welcome Week", I found myself at the Catholic Center, ironically for "Protestant Worship Night." There were more people there than expected - after all, I figured this was a school where half of the students were Jewish and the other half were agonistical atheist, vaguely spiritual, but not really, folks. Not much room for Christians.
Tisch School of the Arts is strange. That much I knew before I came to NYU, solely because of the title "school of the arts." Figures that during our orientation, they'd assign us something before classes actually started, just to inconvenience a poor little, relatively shy girl from North Carolina who hadn't the slightest clue how to navigate properly the subway systems. I could hardly get to Kimmel effectively.
Nonetheless, I was told that before my first Writing the Essay class, I had to travel to the Museum of Modern Art to check out the Richard Serra exhibit. Where was this so-called "MoMa?" I didn't know, but I did know that it was free on Fridays, and that I had no one to accompany me.
Back to Protestant Worship Night, there was a post-gathering involving snacks and plenty of flyers after the worshipping. Things for tons of Christian groups and clubs and all sorts of fun, spiritual things. And of course, the typical list of questions. "Name? Where you from? Where you living? What's your major?"
"Chanelle. Yes, like 'No. 5'. No, it's not spelled the same. North Carolina. Yes, it's a big difference. Brittany. Film and Television."
It was the last answer that got a "Transform" flyer stuck in my hands, a Christian group focused on the arts. It was the content of that flyer that opened my eyes a bit. That Friday, they were going to MoMa! Problem solved.
That night, I ended up at Upstein (and found out that people up North were deprived of the wonder of Chick-Fil-A) with a bunch of cool cats from ... whoa, I definitely totally went blank on the name. (EDIT:Intervarsity is the name) But they were nice, and I figured, if I were to join a fellowship on campus, that was probably the one I'd end up at.
Friday found me dazed and in front of Kimmel, looking for the group that would lead me to the completion of my pointless Tisch assignment. It was a bit after the designated meeting time, and I was sure that I was soon going to be forced to turn back, empty-handed and forced to b.s. an essay (something high school had given me plenty of practice at). But fortunately, I spotted a blob roaming the area, made up of a few people I'd recognized from the night before.
It's funny looking back on that moment, thinking of the people I was introduced to who I knew nothing about in those moments. Strangers. People that I honestly didn't expect to come into much contact with after I was done viewing Richard Serra.
We were led to the subway station - everybody pulled out their metrocard and went right through. I, however, was a bit loss. I didn't own one of these "metro cards", yet everybody else did? Really?
My confusion must've been made apparent on my incredibly attractive, yet distinctly innocent face (hahaha), because Nick (though I think I only knew him back then as 'Tall white guy who is probably a couple of years older than me') came "to the rescue" and instructed me in the art of purchasing a metrocard. I put $20 on it, and it's still the same baby I use to this day. But more on him and our adventures through New York later, ha. In all seriousness, I will at a later time write a note about my metrocard.
And it was off to the MoMa. Being the painfully socially awkward in the face of strangers child that I was, I broke away from the group after we went through the incredibly long line and had purchased our free tickets (talk about your contradictions). I was on a mission - find Richard Serra, be amazed, then go back to Brittany.
Nothing went as planned. Well, I did find Richard Serra (his work, though, not the actual sculptor), had my interests vaguely aroused, but nothing that had me awestruck, since I wasn't exactly a fan of large pieces of metal that looked like they'd had the Force used on them. And I never ended up back at Brittany, but rather ended up living at the museum for my entire freshman year.
I'll stop being ridiculous now.
The end of my museum journey landed me back with these Christian peoples before the designated meeting time. I remember Josh and Michele, at least, as I sat awkwardly with them, listening in on their conversation, idly checking my phone and looking around, quite relieved that I had gotten the first part of my assignment done. We headed to the lobby to wait for the others.
Then I was engaged in bits and pieces of conversation, though I was mentally cursing myself at how inept I was at it. I recall Michele asking me for my phone number, then asking if I was attending the picnic in Central Park the next day.
Now, I knew nothing about a picnic. I was only at the MoMa because a little flyer for TransForm had told me. But I should've known then and before that this wasn't just a TransForm event. I had now entered the world of Campus Crusade for Christ - whatever the heck that was.
Figuring that Christian friends and a life outside of the fourteenth floor of Brittany Hall couldn't possibly hurt me (and not to mention, a chance to go to Central Park!), I told Michele, "I think I will." It's odd how sometimes, I remember things in such detail. What's not odd is that I just skipped class. Oops?
After the museum escapade, I found myself in the midst of these people, eating at this place called Cosi. Naturally, I was relatively silent. I can't remember if I got much badgering about it - that's what usually happens, so I'm sure at least once the question was posed "Why aren't you really talking?" Oh, that's a loaded question.
But I definitely didn't mind, though, sitting, eating, and listening to these people talk. They seemed interesting. They were mostly older, they were Christians, and they were nice people.
Then came the first taste of what the rest of my semester would be like. Riding on the subway back downtown, I was expecting to just head back to my dorm, mingle, call my mom to tell her about my adventures, then go to bed. Instead, I got a social life when Michele and Andrea invited me to Andrea's dorm to watch the bootleg version of Hairspray.
I think I was vaguely impressed with myself. Here I was, not even a week after my parents had kicked me to the curb of 55 East Tenth Street, hanging out at a different dorm with people older than me. I was figuratively brushing off my shoulders. Just a bit over a month before, I had turned eighteen. Now, I was a woman!
No, honestly, nothing THAT dramatic was going through my head. But I was still a bit flying high. Even if I hardly said a word during that entire night, I was still already broadening my social circle. I didn't even care that I was watching a bootleg movie, something I generally frown upon, seeing how I'm a film major (ha). I had older friends! Well, acquaintances. Well, nice people who'd invite the awkward freshman to hang out with them.
After SafeRide dropped me off in front of my dorm building that night, a bit after 12 (something else I felt proud of at the time. Big ol' Chanelle practically a veteran already, hanging out in New York City past midnight, something I hardly even got to do in High Point), I decided that I would check out this picnic the next day. It was something I honestly had decided at Cosi. These Campus Crusaders were interesting people.
In reflection, I find life lessons that had always been there, but am now just truly realizing the meaning of. Such as, when you seek God, things go your way. It's something I've known for awhile, rediscovered back then, but I realize now that it was something that was even apparent back then, though I'm not sure if I knew it. I went to Protestant Worship Night to find a way to keep strong in my faith as I entered college, and God threw in a bonus of giving me away to complete an assignment that had already been stressing me out. He's just amazing like that.
Those days started the progression of the my year that led me to the point that I am now. It's amazing, because of course it seemed like nothing at the time, but if I hadn't have gone to that one meeting, the course of my life of NYU could've been completely different. I wasn't able to go to the Club Fair because I believe it was on a Thursday, when I had my all-day class, so I would not have found out about Cru that way. Even if I had still gone to the Protestant Worship night, if I hadn't have gone to the MoMa that Friday, I surely wouldn't have ended up at Cru, but probably that campus fellowship whose name I still can't remember, and I have no idea why not. Okay, I'm looking back on my old wall posts right now, because I know a guy from the fellowship left me one, inviting me to a meeting. Or maybe it was a message...?
INTERVARSITY! hahaha That's the fellowship. Goodness. Anyway, yeah, I probably would've ended up at Intervarsity, thus leading a completely different existence than I am now.
Moral of the story - A Tisch assignment led to...the formation of BAM?
So pretty much, anybody who has been apart of Club Chanelle has Richard Serra and Writing the Essay to thank for that. Who would've knew? haaaaaaa
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