82 days and counting

I'm reading The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith in one of my eighty English classes this semester and the first line is as follows:

"He has the ability to imagine himself a minor incident in the lives of others."

We began to talk in class about the idea of being "a minor incident," and I became kind of fixated on the idea. Minor incidents.

We've all been minor incidents in someone's life. The stranger you hold the door for - minor incident. The friend-of-a-friend you talked to at a party once (but then, of course, friended them on Facebook) - minor incident. The intimidating person who grilled you at your job interview - minor incident.

Stuff like that works both ways, too. I'm a minor incident to the stranger and the stranger is a minior incident to me. It cool and kind of weird at the same time.

It also made me think about minor incidents beyond just random people I've encountered. Like, what about the actual incidents? It makes me wonder what exactly matters after all of this is said and done.

In high school there was always something to panic about, you know? I can't memorize this marching band music. I have a calculus test on Friday and I don't know anything about calculus. I left my vocab book at home. Nobody is turning in their stuff for the yearbook. (Yes, marching band AND yearbook - that's how cool I was). The list goes on.

The point is, all of the stuff I was entirely consumed with in high school didn't matter hardly at all in the end. I memorized most of the music (and flubbed my way through the parts I didn't). I probably got a D on that calc test and lived to tell the tale. I'm sure I looked off a friend's vocab book. People did, in fact, eventually turn in their stuff for the yearbook.

But even stuff I wasn't necessarily stressed about turned out to be minor incidents, too. Winning the locker decoration contest. Wondering if Homecomming is really rigged so the seniors always win. Book club meetings over the summer when we all got together to watch movies, eat our weight in salty snacks and gossip. Using thousands of bottles of sunscreen at band camp.

The problem with minor incidents, of course, is that you usually don't know at the time that it's a minor incident. If only we knew that. Then we'd be able to have maybe a different perspective on things.

Although, I suppose it could be argued that life is filled with nothing but minor incidents, you know? Except, of course, for the things that are major incidents like graudations and births and weddings and stuff that's kind of a big deal.

At first I thought it was kind of horrible to think about it that way. For example, anybody who has ever read this blog in the last 3.5 years (so... all three of you) knows that I am heavily involved in APO - the community service fraternity on campus. I spend almost every weekend doing service, I've held a variety of leadership positions, most of my closest friends are from APO... It's been a huge part of my life.

But lately I've been wondering what it amounts to on the outside. I have put all of myself into this thing for a really, really long time, but after I'm gone and graduated, what happens to all that?

Does that make sense?

I'm sure my committments will be otherwise distributed to work or finding work or a whole new organization (likely the Jaycees, should I stick around), but I can't help but fear that all the hard work I've done is a minor incident, too. It'll be a minor incident in chapter history and a minor incident in my life.

In some respects, I don't believe that. Sure, I will definitely be a minor incident in chapter history. No doubt. But in my life? I don't know. Certainly for a while post-graduation it'll still be a big deal, but it'll fade with time, I'm sure. Just like high school did. But maybe only the little things will fade like particular service events I took part in and having the leadership roles and ALL THE DRAMA that went with it (please let that be the first to fade). Maybe other things will stick with me, though. Like the ability to speak easily in front of a group of people. The confidence I gained. My sense of duty and responsibility to my community.

Hopefully those are the things that will stay with me.

I do believe life is made up almost entirely of minor incidents. But I don't think that should stop us from doing or going or caring. "This won't matter ten years from now," isn't a good enough reason not to do something, I don't think. Maybe all these minor incidents are just how we pratice being passionate about something.

And why do we all have to be so focused on the future, anyway? Can't we just have the here and now? Can't we do something because it makes us happy TODAY? Living only for the future seems foolish... and endless, really, if you think about it.