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Well before the first day of freshman year when my dad drove away for the last time and I was left 1,200 miles from the place I’d called home for 20 years, I felt light. I felt right. I was free not to give a shit about “important” things and to give a shit about not giving a shit. That’s how I coped, though I didn’t realize it at the time, with my depression, my confusion, and my questions. Growing up white, privileged, and complacent hadn’t exactly compelled me to live a life of service. At least at first.

I sought fun. I wanted to soar above it all or dive so deep that noise didn’t reach me. I sought escape.

Escape from a world that didn’t make sense; a world where the needless suffering of fellow humans is a taboo subject to be ignored or at best a fragmentary problem to be solved. A world where the monotony of working hard, getting good grades, going to college, following a professional path, having a family, and raising them to do the same was so encompassing that even the non-conformists were demonstrating at the school’s amphitheater in between their liberal arts classes and internship at the edgy school magazine. I only realized my escapist ways when I made too many mistakes. I let my parents down. I made my mom cry. She cried and told me she felt like I was taking it all for granted, all of the love, support, and resources at my disposal. That petrified me. Had I really messed up that bad? Had I really become the ungrateful child I had so often loathed?

This moment was probably the most impactful moment of my life.

I refused to let my mistakes get between me and the freedom to live the way I wanted, so I got straight A’s the same term I had to leave the dorms and live in an apartment furnished with nothing but a borrowed twin mattress, a $5 shelf I found at Goodwill, and my guitar – which I used as a towel rack. But I soon realized that wasn’t enough. So I took five classes each term – five classes in the quarter system is a heavy work load to say the least. But then I realized school wasn’t enough, everybody did school. Taking lots of classes wasn’t genuinely utilizing the resources at my disposal. So I got a job. Then I got another. By the start of junior year I was taking 21 credits each term and working two jobs, one during the day when I wasn’t in class, and one at night from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. Surely, I was taking advantage of the assets I had access to.

Wrong. The possibility to be happy and fulfilled was available to me but I hadn’t found a way to take advantage of that opportunity. I soon grew tired and resentful. My social life was as vibrant as the sodden leaf in autumn that’s been stuck to the same spot in the driveway for a month, imprinted with the shoes and tire marks of the travelers going between home, school, and house parties. “Taking it all for granted” still rung in my ears. I recognized that working hard for the sake of working hard didn’t get me very far, except down the road to isolation, but I didn’t know where to focus my energy. I didn’t know where to find something that would let me lead while working toward a goal that made a positive impact beyond padding the résumé of myself and everyone involved.

I don’t remember how I found out about the opportunity to found a Chapter of Nourish. Maybe through a Google search, I’m good at Google searches, or maybe on a listing on Idealist.org. I do remember how it felt. I was ecstatic. I had stumbled upon an opportunity to gain management experience while pursuing a worthwhile cause. I found work, I found fulfillment; I found myself, a positive individual with the desire to be someone of influence. I was also nervous, doubtful, and made every excuse imaginable as to why I shouldn’t do this.

But I knew I wasn’t the short-tempered, depressed, and anti-social individual that 80-hour work weeks had shaped me into. I had simply been lost, wandering around Eugene grasping at straws, refusing to accept the normality of the American dream that everyone seemed to think was fair for everyone.

I applied to be a Chapter founder listing my two roommates, who were less than enthusiastic about the idea of additional work, as my co-founders. Soon after I was offered an interview! I participated in my first-ever phone interview the day after Coachella.

After the interview, I then had the chance to attend the Nourish Summer Institute. Never would I have considered the possibility that a conference could be as fun, informative, puzzling, and downright inspiring and life-changing as the Summer Institute was.

I met people that understood me. Our small talk might have revolved around our most embarrassing drunk stories or the growing global capitalistic tendencies to exploit the historically colonized peoples in regions rich in natural resources in order to sell products to consumers who are completely indifferent or otherwise unaware of the mass human and natural suffering that resulted from it. This experience instilled in me a hope, an energy, and a self-belief that still drives me today. I felt like Ghandi as I was leaving and I couldn’t wait to get back to Eugene to tell everyone about how dope this Chapter was going to be.

But for every Ghandi, there are so many more doubters, or even worse, lukewarm supporters. Machiavelli said, “…this lukewarmness arising… partly from the incredulity of mankind, who do not truly believe in anything new until they have had the actual experience of it.” And nobody had had the SI experience I had.

For all of fall term, the only people who came to Nourish meetings were friends and acquaintances that were mildly interested in Nourish’s mission, but mostly came because I was so insistent. But they were all seniors, like me, so I had to find some underclassmen who could keep it going.

Even though I spoke about Nourish and the opportunity it presents in front of half a dozen classes and half a dozen clubs, I had failed to build must interest in the organization. About 30 people signed up for our mailing list at the sustainability fair, but none came to a meeting. I found myself sitting alone in a classroom with a PowerPoint presentation and a large pizza more than once, waiting up to 30 minutes hoping maybe one person would show up late. The worst part? I’m lactose intolerant so I couldn’t even smother my disappointment in greasy, cheesy goodness.

I was getting frustrated. But I refused to give up. I continued to hustle. I had set a $3,000 earnings goal at the Summer Institute and I was going to achieve that goal. If not by skill, it would be by sheer will power.

I spoke with every professor, advisor, dean, secretary, department head, club, and class I could get in front of. I did the legwork because I was not going to see my dream die. I would not let this be a one and done Chapter. This was not a résumé booster for me, this was a chance to prove myself and I couldn’t imagine doing just the bare minimum.

The first term came and went and our Chapter had earned $100. Our only Venture was an ugly sweater sale, marketed solely through Facebook.

Winter term started and I was eager to continue working. Then Juliette, my Chapter support mentor, started mentioning leadership transition. I still hadn’t found a single underclassmen who would come to more than one meeting.

I think the few freshman who had expressed interest were more interested in the game of pong I said we’d be playing after the meeting. I was worried. I even suggested lowering our Chapter’s goal. Juliette wouldn’t let me do that and I am forever grateful. That would have been the easy way out and I’m glad I didn’t take it.

I started doing more legwork. My senior friends started to lose interest and they never helped me with recruiting. I needed some new members. I decided to put my iContact skills to the test. I drafted emails for 3 departments; business, non-profit management, and international studies. I visited each department in person and spoke with administrative assistants or advisors and asked them for advice. I pitched Nourish to them as an opportunity for their students to practice what they’re learning. I got the contact information for the staff in charge of each school’s email list. I sent my targeted emails to each department and crossed my fingers.

I got a number of responses, met individuals over coffee and really tried to get them interested. And just before the Giving Challenge started we held a meeting. And much to my surprise, 20 new faces showed up. I couldn’t believe it. Very few of these new faces actually became involved, but the few who did changed the face of Nourish UO for the better. Never underestimate the value of a single person. Emily Miley single handedly saved Nourish UO. She invited friends to meetings and reenergized me and my existing team of seniors. The Giving Challenge, which as a business major, was not something I was excited about, was our chance to do something big. I challenged myself and my team to earn our entire goal, $3,000, during this month. I asked everyone I knew, and not just on Facebook. I asked people in person, I asked people via email, I asked people via text message, and I asked people via phone calls. So did one of my best friends, who had no reason to do so other than he saw the drive in me. So we made a bet, highest earner gets a case of beer from the loser. I raised almost $1,000 by myself, and I lost. We earned our entire $3,000 earnings goal in the month of February and our partner was going to get every penny that we had promised.

The story goes on but it gets much less interesting. The point is… Every Chapter can be an above average Chapter, and every leader can be a rock star Chapter Leader. It’s all about how much you want it.

Everyone’s busy. Everyone’s in college. Everyone’s trying. But if you’re not knocking down doors, if you’re not sacrificing your own comfort and stability, and if you’re not pushing yourself and your team, you don’t want it bad enough. And if you don’t want it bad enough, you and your Chapter will be condemned to perpetual mediocrity.