In August, we bring a set of new full-time writers to the blog. Today, please welcome Michelle Ferdinands (’22), who will be writing for us on the 9th of each month. Michelle graduated from Calvin University with degrees in mathematics and computer science. She lives in Kansas City and works as a software engineer. She loves to run and read, and she’s always up for an adventure.

I finally had time for my favorite activity: reading a sad-girl lit fic book at my local coffee shop. This time, instead of standing up and waiting for my coffee, I sat down at a booth and started I Who Have Never Known Men, starring a sassy main character without a name. I was interrupted by an employee yelling “Michelle,” and I was forced to pause my reading. I started again, this time with caffeine. But as I read, I realized the main character wasn’t funny or endearing. She just didn’t know when to shut up, couldn’t let go of her questions and was too intense. I knew I, of all people, could make this judgment because I shared her struggles. It annoyed me that she poked at my insecurities, but I’m grateful I had the self-awareness to recognize it. I kept reading with an open mind, and something in my brain started clicking. The main character was not just loud. She was resilient, adaptable, and maybe even smart. So what did that mean for me? Did I really have to keep shrinking myself? And does it even matter that my friends get uncomfortable? I started doing some introspection.

I think I ask a lot of questions and push limits. Sometimes, it’s probably better to just let things go. Like, a while ago, my car was totaled, and my insurance gave me a value for my car that I knew made no sense. Most people would’ve let it go, but I kept asking all the hard questions about insurance, legality, and customer rights. I did actually get insurance to give me more money, but wow, I’m annoying.

And I am honest. If someone wants to mess with me, I’ll fight them. I can’t stop myself. I’ll tell them the entire truth—in way too much detail. And I’ve been vulnerable. I’ve started the hard conversations. I really have shown up to run clubs without knowing a soul.

But it really sucks. At work, when there are meetings, everyone wants me to talk, but I have nothing to say. In job interviews, I have to say that I’m the smartest and that I know everything. I’m not allowed to complain because that’s just how it is. When I tell my friends I’m uncomfortable or that they might be wrong about something, I’m told that nitpicking their words or taking them out of context. But I just tell people what I observe because I want to know their perspective. I genuinely try my best not to make assumptions. Ugh, I really make my life more difficult than it has to be.

And this is true of the main character. It’s weird that she’s basically me, but in book form. She’s just weird and crazy, haha… The other women would tell her that she needed to stop questioning the world, but she couldn’t stop asking. She put clothes on dead people just because she thought that dead people needed dignity. How stupid! She was so different from the other women. They were in a desert they all knew was empty and bare. And yes, they knew because they had spent years searching. But she, the main character, wasn’t as wise—she kept walking up and down, and her only justification was that they didn’t need to settle. She kept saying they could hope for more. She just wouldn’t give in. Not even a little. But actually, I don’t know, it’s possible not giving up was admirable. But probably not. I just really don’t know.

I’m honestly tired, and I think too much. I’ll leave this coffee shop and see if I can make sense of this nonsensical thought spiral. It might be possible my intensity isn’t all bad. I don’t know. But whatever, I guess I will think about this later.

 

Author’s Note: This piece is disorienting and uncomfortable by choice. Please don’t try to find the meaning of this—there isn’t a moral takeaway, and it’s not meant to make sense.

the post calvin