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As I look back over the sum of my years (which, granted, are not yet many), I cannot help but notice the degree to which different people have adjusted the course of my life. Were I to draw out the chronological timeline of my short existence, I imagine it would resemble a child's etch-a-sketch portrait. Lines and dots crisscrossing, and overlapping, and darting back and forth. Each person changing the lines direction. Every event, every high or low point, every sparked or extinguished relationship a change in course. A wonderful, beautiful, excruciatingly meticulous hodge-podge of intricate shapes and patterns. I sometimes envision that, from a distance, my timeline might resemble some sort of monstrous thrill ride with towering climbs and gut-wrenching drops. With innumerable twists and turns rivaling the most prodigious of mystery novels. With ground shaking speeds, sharp corners, and sudden stops. Such has been the course of my life.

From the very beginning of our juxtaposition to the human race we are flung (quite literally) into the arms of people. This is where each of our timelines begin. We are born into society. Immediately from first breath, depending on our sex, we are lavished in garments that, according to our society, are deemed appropriate in color and style. We are immediately corralled into groupings based on our height, weight, hair,eye, and skin color, parents financial and social status, and intelligence...and for the rest of our lives we jump from group to group, bracket to bracket, rung to rung. From our first step through the doors of our pre-school and kindergarten classes we begin to fit ourselves into groups that fit the labels we have been given from birth. Throughout grade school and all the way through college, we try on different hats. We change our hair, our clothing, our way of speech, even what we believe, in the attempt to find a group that will accept us. We as humans, as mankind has proven time and time again, are in a constant search for acceptance, for camaraderie, for commiseration. And my life has been no different.

I began my social existence, my timeline as it were, as the fastest kid in my class. All the girls liked me. I was cute, I was smart. I was 5. Dot. Line. Shortly after, DNA kicked in and I became the "fat kid". Whether or not it was actually true (which, as I look back on pictures of myself, I can honestly say it wasn't), it was the persona I was handed. Not knowing any better, I picked it up like a tacky Christmas sweater and wore it...for YEARS. Dot. Line. All through jr. high and early high school I wore it. No matter what outfit I wore, football pads, band uniform, baseball jerseys, honor society stoles, I wore the sweater over it. The ugly, tattered, red and forest green plaid "fat kid" persona. No matter my talent, no matter my intelligence...that was me. I had been grouped under the "fat kid" label. Dot. FAT line. Then, sometime during the summer after my sophomore year, something shifted. I started working out, eating less, dropping weight...then I changed schools. Dot. Line. I made the Varsity Football team at a HUGE public school. Dot. Line. I met a girl that I actually thought was cute...and she thought I was cute. Dot. Line. Then, I got hurt the first week of practice. I got grouped again. Quitter, Lazy, Pansy, Weak. Dot. Line. I worked hard to get better, worked even harder once I got back on the field...and I got grouped again. Tough, Hard Worker, Example. Dot. Line. I joined band, choir, Jazz band, and got labeled again...Dot. Line....you can see where this is going. Every major event in my life was another line in the etch-a-sketch, another dot in the star scape. And they only continued into college and up until today. But in between the major events is where I see the most amazing shapes.

In between major events lie the people that inspired the events. The catalysts. The actors on my life's stage. These are the people that said "go for it" when I wanted to approach the cute girl, the ones who comforted me after my dad left, the ones who shared van and bus rides to the end of creation and back, the ones who listened to my songs through 4th, 5th, and 6th drafts, and even those people who only did harm to me. They are the shapers, the molders, the definers of my hearts clay. They are the chisels by which my life lessons were etched into my heart and my mind. Good or bad, uplifting or hurtful, Holy or Unholy, they wrought my lifeline from the steel of humanity through the unquenchable fires of time.

To all who have had a part in shaping my destiny, thank you. And to all who are to come, I wish you the experience in your path to help shape the course of mine. Godspeed.