Identity, Wanderlust, and the Problem with Being a Wild Stallion (pt.1)

A Little Background to the Name

Bravado, fear, and perhaps a little attention seeking.  I'm sure the motivations for creating a Bachelor's Club on a conservative Christian campus swirled together like one's first attempt at a mix drink.   There were about eight of us who rubbed elbows together around that cafeteria table, dramatizing visions of rebellion against the oppressive dating culture that saturated the environment around us. We voted that our mascot would be the Wild Stallions, as we were unbridled dangerous men who wished to remain as such.  We would pursue chivalry, act brashly, and offer an alternative to the ring-by-spring dictatorship that has transformed casual coffee dates into pre-engagement, public affairs.  As Wild Stallions we would laugh in the face of societal pressure. Sitting at that cafeteria table, if someone had possessed at that moment some ancient parchment or vellum, each one of us would have probably signed our names in blood under some impressive display of calligraphy.  However, lacking the necessary elements for a ridiculous level of melodrama, we sealed our commitments with laughter, the clinking of clear plastic cups, and the promise to gather on Thursday nights.

Unfortunately, you've probably never heard of the Bachelor Club Revolution sweeping across Christian college campuses.  This wouldn't surprise me. I would attribute this naiveté to the alpha chapter's less than sparkling success.  Within two months, six of the original founding brothers had begun "talking to" or dating girls. This shift in participation naturally effected the recruitment process. Testimony night became a little repetitive, and the school did not officially recognize a club of two. The pair of remaining participants struggled to carry on the vision until one of them offered the survivor best wishes and moved to Ireland. This departure left the club with one member who would soon come to view himself as "the Wild Stallion."

Online Relevant Articles

It might encourage you to know that two years after graduating college, I no longer refer to myself in the third person or insist that people recognize me as "the Wild Stallion." (I think the Holy Spirit prompted this change just in time for job interviews.)  No, in fact, I think my life follows a pretty typical rhythm.  I go to work, think about exercising, alternate between eating salads and indulgent meals, and spend more time than I would like admit to checking to see if I have any new notifications on Facebook.  In the midst of clicking refresh and browsing through a potentially embarrassing amount of an ex-crush's profile pictures, I inevitably follow some link to an online blog or Relevant article. These links usually promise 77 emotion-causing photos or a encouraging checklist of 24 things to do for every possible relationship status in each and every year of a person's young life. 

Lately, some of these articles have been about Wanderlust, which I would define as the strong, reoccurring "need" to have new experiences, to travel, or to be transient.   Most of the time these articles feel like one of those chicken-or-the-egg things.  By the time I've finished reading about the signs of Wanderlust, I've gone from feeling content to wanting to write a two-week notice.  Suddenly, I find myself making Expedia my home page and cursing at capitalism for making plane tickets so ridiculously expensive.  Not that I need a lot of help from these articles to get to this point anyways.  I always want to travel. It seems restlessness fills my marrow and and I long for adventure like I do sunshine after a cloudy week. Don't get my wrong, I enjoy my job, but it still ties me down. Keeps me rooted. After all, a velvet tether is still a tether.

Peter Pan

This blog post has been written with a feeling of excitement and panic in my stomach.  I know I'm not supposed to say the following statement, but here it goes regardless: I don't want to be an adult.  No part of me wants the bills, the house, or the retirement plan.  I don't want kids, commitments, work schedules, nicer clothes, or responsibilities.  I especially don't want anyone to depend on me.  Society can keep their questions concerning when I will start dating people again or whether I am making wise choices to establish a lifelong career. (I'm not. Nor do I wish to.) Perhaps these emotions stem from fear, insecurities, or plain old fashioned resistance to growing up. I'm not sure, although it seems safe to assume that others will form and possibly offer their own conclusions.  Great, I welcome them. I don't know where I am, what I want to do, or what's going awry in this maturation process.

It's just in the end, so much of my heart longs to be unbridled, untethered, and uncommitted.  I feel like I should apologize for this, but I won't. I'm not sorry for how I feel: I don't want to be an adult. I think I just feel the need to apologize because I'm afraid of failing others' expectations of me.

A Song

Verse 1:
8 to 5  five days a week
it's enough to make me crazy
overtime and conference calls
Make sure you know the dress code
It's not bad not bad at all
Just not like what my dreams were
Should I let them drift and die
is that the price of growing up?

Chorus:
I never meant to grow up
I just kept passing classes got a job and did laundry
I never meant to grow up
It's just this older body tries to hide the kid in me
And if you know then stand and sing

Cause we don't want to be
we don't, don't, wanna be
No we don't wanna be adults

Verse 2:
I want to be Peter Pan
but I can't find Neverland
Everyday I wake from dreams
 Go to work and punch a keyboard
Hoping that one day I'll wake
Living the life I dreamed of
Where I don't work for money
and live for the weekends nights
Where my friends call me back
And I have passion in my life
Where I love God and others
And I'm not afraid to fail
Where I believe that I could change the world
I can't change the world

Bridge:
What if this is growing up?
Slowly compromising dreams
filling time so full of stuff
And living for the unlived days
Is there another way to live?
can I just remain a kid?
Cause now people count on me
And expect maturity
And my life stretches out
And I don't really like what I see