I’ve been away from the homestead for over a week now adjusting to the trials and tribulations of college. I must admit, it’s a very liberating feeling being left to my own devices, mentally mapping out routes to dining halls and wandering around campus when I have free time. I’m already getting a lay of the land pretty easily, and I can’t believe I’ll be showing some out of state (and in one case, out of country) friends around this not-so-little old place in just a few weeks. (Seriously, DEVOtional cannot come quickly enough.) Maybe someday younger students here will be asking me for their way around, intimidated by the many routes of getting to Eastway or unable to not keep dropping their school issued ID cards. For now, I’ve been socializing with other members of my class who are in the same boat as me, though they happen to have friends from high school lingering in the area. I’ll always be an introvert, but talking to these brand new people has been strangely refreshing recently. It’s a nice, liberating feeling being a blank slate to a whole bunch of people who, like me, are also baby faced, weird, and anxious as hell.
Even as I make connections in the real world, I’m still checking my frequented sites and social media accounts. I expected I would do less of that as I transitioned into college life, but in retrospect I feel like I’ve been going through a mental transition regarding my time on the computer all along. Ever since I began making progress towards even attending Kent in the first place, I’ve been taking the digital world less and less seriously, and I didn’t even take it too seriously to begin with. Now I look at people getting into comment section flame wars sometimes and just feel a little bit sad. I feel sad that these people, apparently, have nothing better to do than insulting people on the internet for fleeting moments of manufactured superiority. They could be learning new things, opening their minds to new experiences, and actually engaging in the real world, but they aren’t. It’s frustrating sometimes, because it feels as if so much potential is being wasted on useless, stupid arguments when the participants could have been doing something more productive in the first place. (Hey, if me being a student makes me a vital part of the conscience of America, I gotta put my honest opinion out there.)
My year-long honors English course is centered around the theme of disenfranchisement, the act of being made into an outsider. But sometimes, strangely enough, I like to feel like an outsider. I like to look at inane arguments and know that I have no place there, that there’s something much better to be doing than fighting fire with fire. I’m learning that the type of fire that actually needs to be fought can be fought with words, expression, logic, truth. I’m really grateful to have the chance to hone these skills.
I was bag shopping at the mall yesterday, and the song “The Way” by Fastball came on the radio. It’s one of those songs that I feel has been ingrained into my consciousness purely from radio play in places of commerce. Something about the chorus stuck out to my ears, and I took the liberty to look the song up only to learn that it was inspired by a news blurb about an aging couple who took off in their car only to be found dead at the bottom of a ravine weeks later. Anyone in the mall could’ve done the same as me with the ease of their phones, but they didn’t. It was just pure white noise to the rest of them. Nothing was offbeat or sinister; life was happening as usual.
Just a regular day at the dying Boscovs anchor whose facade hasn’t been updated since 1989.
Over the weekend, I got my first true taste at college life. Kent State freshman orientation. Verdict: not too shabby. It was the fourth time I’d been to Kent, and it might have been the most satisfying visit there yet. Today actually marks one year since I first stepped foot in the college town, which I still find hard to believe. When four nebulous years lie ahead of me, it feels even more surreal. But that strangeness has never felt negative.
We rolled into town last Thursday afternoon, with my orientation beginning the next morning. I got to visit North Water Street, an old part of town I had never been to before. It’s the site of the old JB’s club, a regionally legendary venue that hosted the likes of 15-60-75 (The Numbers Band) and DEVO. It’s called the Brew Down now, but the outlines of its sign and door awning remain the same, albeit in a more garish KSU blue and gold. The buildings beside it, featured in DEVO’s pioneering 1976 short film The Truth About De-Evolution, are worn and boarded up, and one has been demolished. It was interesting to see that not all of the city has succumbed to the cutesy college town ‘vibes’ that seemingly define the ideal 2020s campus.
They also sell Numbers Band shirts at one of the local school shirt shops, which are sick, though I kept myself from buying one due to my current unfamiliarity with their material. I ain’t no poser, yuh see.
In seeing the campus itself across the three days I was in town, it was probably the most gorgeous I’d ever seen it. The weather was pristine the entire weekend, and the campus was seemingly made for sunsets. Buildings such as Franklin Hall, which I’ll be spending some time in as a journalism major, looked more dignified than ever. Spring in Kent is incredible for more reasons than just the history, even as it was rolling into a sweltering summer.
The orientation itself went down easily. There was quite a bit of sitting through informational presentations that could have just been read online, but the rest of the time let me connect with and adapt to my new surroundings and traditions hands-on. The process felt effortless. I stayed overnight in a dorm for the first time, and while honors college housing will be supplying me with much more living space than I experienced Friday night, I thought my room’s compactness was pretty charming. As long as I don’t have to bunk my bed, I’m good. The communal bathroom situation went easier than I expected, and the dining hall food wasn’t too shabby. I also did the Electric Slide for the first time. I wish I regretted doing that.
The climax of the event was working out my fall semester schedule, which went very smoothly. Afterwards I had over an hour until my next scheduled activity, so I took the opportunity to wander around campus some more, figuring out how much time I would need to get between classes. I revisited the site of the May 4 shootings, my first time as an official student. And in knowing that my choice was official, that I had successfully taken my life into my own hands in some way, that I had my own footsteps to make both following in and alongside those who came before me—I felt more secure than I ever had before standing on those hallowed grounds.
I got my university ID card shortly afterwards in the student center, which was satisfying to say the least, even though I almost lost it by letting it fall onto the floor minutes after receiving it. I left high school with a doi; I entered college with one. Some things never change. But I expect better behavior from myself during my tenure at Kent.
For my senior year, my first class every day was AP Physics, and my teacher had a small poster located in very close proximity to his classroom flag. The poster had a stock image of a velociraptor above text reading “Velociraptor = Distraptor / Timeraptor.” Classic physics joke. I always stood there silently with my hands by my sides looking at that poster during the daily pledge. When we were told to rise for the national anthem at my graduation ceremony last night, I thought about that poster.
It felt like any other pledge, and the majority of my preparations for the end of my senior year of high school felt like any other day. Final assignments, papers, and tests all felt like nothing I wasn’t used to. Sitting through my peers’ speeches was different that usual, but it was easy. I felt a few butterflies flitting around in my stomach shortly before rising to join the line of students waiting to receive their diplomas, and that was it. It was like I was a complete natural at the experience of high school, and in many ways, I guess I was. I wasn’t walking across that stage with three cords, two stoles, one medal and, lest we forget, a cap and gown for no reason. In some way or another, I think I won high school.
When I got home, I got to read updates about a horrific school shooting in Uvalde, Texas. I had first read about it sometime before the ceremony when only a few children were confirmed dead from the massacre. The number had reached the teens and included teachers by the time I had gotten home after the ceremony. Today I got to read pleas from political pundits suggesting turning schools into heavily guarded, logistically nonsensical obstacle courses to prevent shootings instead of actually doing anything that would keep the weapons perpetrating said shootings out of the hands of the cruel and unstable. In August I’ll be moving into a dorm at Kent State University, known across the country as ‘that school where kids got shot’ if Star Wars doesn’t completely overtake your mental function every May 4.
Some things don’t change. But some things do, in small and subtle ways that will soon spread and explode into something much bigger than itself.
Graduation practice was held this morning. I couldn’t find specifically where I was supposed to go, so I naturally ended up going to the track field where the ceremony is to be held should the weather cooperate. Chairs were being set up, and despite the fact that I didn’t recognize anyone walking the track or throwing assorted sports balls around, I’m used to not recognizing most of the people in my school’s halls, so I figured they were just some unfamiliar fellow seniors killing time. I walked the track, wondering if I should’ve brought a jacket.
The kids were herded back into the gym shortly afterwards. I sat on the bleachers, waiting for instructions. I and a few others were then reprimanded by one of the gym teachers for sitting on the bleachers when they were supposed to be kept clean.
Confused about why barely anyone was there despite having arrived on time, I went up to one of the teachers—another gym teacher—at the front of the gym and asked her about exactly what was happening. It turns out I had walked into a gym class and completely, perfectly assimilated myself.
What a way to end my high school career: a big, fat doi.
I’m not angry or disappointed; I just find it hilarious.
I did make my way to where I was supposed to be, the humid auxiliary gym right beside where my misguided assumptions had led me, and settled myself in my assigned folding chair. I gazed across the rows as the principal read out the ceremony procedure, and a peculiar feeling welled up inside of me. Despite all the effort I had put in to get to this point, the effort that gifted me the assorted cords and stoles I’ll be wearing, the act of sitting there felt terrifyingly effortless.
I have neglected my blogging duties for too long! The end of the academic year has bought up a lot of my time, but that overload has since subsided. It’s good to be back in the blogging mood and have the time for it once more.
In between preparing for four AP tests and wrangling with the post-high school road lying ahead, I’ve been tending to my personal webpage. I’d gotten very invested in it the past few weeks, learning a few new coding tricks along the way, and I’m very pleased with how it has come out. It just happens to be cropped to hell on my phone and probably yours, too. (I’ll fix that later.) It feels nice to have a little site devoted around myself, just as it feels nice to blog. I really enjoy the idea of a personal page, one’s own little corner of the internet, and I’d recommend making one to anyone, though I know that today’s oversaturated world often leaves little time for deep investment into how HTML works and the like. On the free, DIY hosting site I use, Neocities, I often see sites where the webmaster—often a teenager—openly expresses dissatisfaction with social media, with some even rejecting social media altogether. Anti-NFT and anti-“Web3.0” blinkies abound. But not everyone has the time to labor over CSS table styling, and having some form of social media is pretty much required for getting any sort of attention in this modern world unless you’re lucky. From uniting kindred spirits from across physical barriers to sending vulnerable individuals into impenetrable bubbles of harmful rhetoric, the internet has proven itself to be a double-edged sword. Neither social media feeds nor standalone sites and their sitemasters’ odd digital traditionalism are immune to that dichotomy. (And I say this as someone who absolutely despises social media.) I stand with one foot in a tradition of days gone by and another in the wild, wild west of our current, ever evolving landscape, waiting to see what happens.
I’m not the only one feeling that way lately. I know that the 2000s have been coming back in a big way, even as Apple announces the discontinuation of the iPod. (I’lll still be using mine.) Yesterday happened to be my school’s prom, which I attended, and I was very amused when the DJ loaded up “Apple Bottom Jeans” back to back with the all-time classic, “Hot In Herre.” It was truly a delight to witness. “Yeah!” and “Get Low” appeared earlier and later in the playlist respectively, rounding out a fearful foursome of bafflingly immortal 2000s partay songs. That’s “partay,” not “party.” (A trap cover of the Macarena also made an appearance early on, but that’s a whole other can of worms.) I find it interesting that, apparently, my age group as a whole, not just some niche subsection, is looking back at a previous generation’s teen hood and trying to recapture it. I would argue against the inclusion of Nelly and friends but it is all just so hilarious to me that I can’t say no. It is better for mankind to have the sense of humor to bask in the glory of the bootylicious anthems of yesteryear and beyond.
I was less interested in joining everyone else out on that dance floor, though. I’ve got a DEVO concert in four days; I need to save up the energy.
Last week was technically the last ‘normal’ week of classes before AP and state testing wreck havoc across the land. For me, it was the busiest week of my high school career. I had my final Model UN conference, which ended with a joke motion to “get rid of Ohio (via bulldozer boats)” (don’t ask). Guess I won’t be off to Kent State in August, for it had to be sacrificed to save America from the rapidly expanding, parasitic Buckeye State. On other days of the week, I found myself in parts of my school I had never seen in my entire four years of attendance there. The secret agent lurking inside of me adored that, though I still question why my school doesn’t use its perfectly preserved time capsule pool for more than the swim team and physics class boat races, or why I didn’t know they have a room full of iMacs.
All that aside, it gives me mixed emotions to know that the public school system I’ve been tethered to for the last twelve years will be soon be behind me.
It’s even odder placing my role as a freethinking high schooler in the context of our current culture. More and more attacks on critical thinking have been entering schools across the country thanks to concerned parents who would prefer their children remain ignorant to history and the world at large. Reading about book bans and threats towards teachers who teach the truth is disheartening and, frankly, terrifying. It’s a shame that we as humans, instead of encouraging nuance and intelligent analysis, have allowed for those actively promoting ignorance to have an increasingly large platform. Society is being rapidly dumbed down at the hands of these types, the ones who let their favorite political pundits and reality show stars—what’s the difference nowadays?—determine their every opinion instead of stopping to think about what they are consuming. They may be puppets, but they have power.
We live in a world of ever-increasing absurdity, plain and simple, and humans are basically just strange little animals trapped in an overcrowded cage. They do weird things and can seem very kind one moment and then be seen brutally mauling each other the next. Recognizing these truths is the only way to see the world for what it is. And when logical thought and critical thinking are placed at the forefront of this observation and emotions don’t blind us, work can be done and change can be made for the better—for all of us. When education devalues these qualities and promotes homogeny and close-mindedness in their place, you are learning nothing but a lie.
I’m genuinely grateful that I was able to receive a quality education throughout my high school career. And I’m miffed that the things that made those four years so valuable to me—the discussions I’ve had in my English and social studies classes, the documentaries I’ve watched and dissections I’ve done in anatomy class, the support I’ve received from my teachers—are being disparaged across the country. But then again, people still think that the Kent students protesting the Vietnam War on that crisp spring day in 1970—the anniversary of which is coming up rapidly—were the true agitators when the National Guard came to town. And that’s not stopping me any time soon.
As I enter the next phase of my life, I will continue to seek the truth.
It’s strange to think that it’s the first day of spring already. Not too long ago I was agonizing over when the cold weather would give way, and now that time is here.
That crisp spring air that I’ve longed for for so long was making its way through Kent, Ohio when I visited for the third time last week. The trip was somehow even greater than my previous visits for a variety of reasons I’m still processing. I got to see the university’s campus during school hours for the first time as students strolled, studied, and gathered. It was a lot less hectic than I pictured in my mind, especially due to my visit’s proximity to good old Saint Patrick’s Day, which conjured up images of the small town (one with a big voice, mind you) taken over by rampaging drunken frat boys. But even in the sleepy night, despite the signs of commotion at bars and a few “WHOOP”s, things remained relaxed. The town didn’t become chilly as the sun went down, either, a far cry from what I’ve gotten used to as the weather gets warmer back home. What’s more welcoming than that?
While the campus was more laid back in character than I expected, I was still able to see its current hotbeds of progress, sitting in on a meeting of the school’s revived Students for a Democratic Society and visiting the May 4 Visitors Center for the first time. Both were eye-opening, cathartic experiences. It was refreshing to see that critical thinking skills still have a home at Kent, and it was comforting to see that I’m not the only one concerned about keeping the truth of Kent State’s history intact. There was something oddly empowering about standing among the artifacts of May 4 and getting to see and meet people who are actively working to keep that history alive for younger, targeted generations. I felt trusted to treat the past with respect, and through that I encountered opportunity after opportunity to help build a future centered around those all-too-forgotten values of applicable awareness and the questioning of illegitimate authority. It felt amazing, yet humbling.
If only I didn’t have to wait so long to take up the responsibilities I saw offered. But I guess the path I’ve already laid down for myself will eventually make up for that.
And when the time comes, I’ll be taking those opportunities with pride.
Out Here
Tuesday, August 30th, 2022I’ve been away from the homestead for over a week now adjusting to the trials and tribulations of college. I must admit, it’s a very liberating feeling being left to my own devices, mentally mapping out routes to dining halls and wandering around campus when I have free time. I’m already getting a lay of the land pretty easily, and I can’t believe I’ll be showing some out of state (and in one case, out of country) friends around this not-so-little old place in just a few weeks. (Seriously, DEVOtional cannot come quickly enough.) Maybe someday younger students here will be asking me for their way around, intimidated by the many routes of getting to Eastway or unable to not keep dropping their school issued ID cards. For now, I’ve been socializing with other members of my class who are in the same boat as me, though they happen to have friends from high school lingering in the area. I’ll always be an introvert, but talking to these brand new people has been strangely refreshing recently. It’s a nice, liberating feeling being a blank slate to a whole bunch of people who, like me, are also baby faced, weird, and anxious as hell.
Even as I make connections in the real world, I’m still checking my frequented sites and social media accounts. I expected I would do less of that as I transitioned into college life, but in retrospect I feel like I’ve been going through a mental transition regarding my time on the computer all along. Ever since I began making progress towards even attending Kent in the first place, I’ve been taking the digital world less and less seriously, and I didn’t even take it too seriously to begin with. Now I look at people getting into comment section flame wars sometimes and just feel a little bit sad. I feel sad that these people, apparently, have nothing better to do than insulting people on the internet for fleeting moments of manufactured superiority. They could be learning new things, opening their minds to new experiences, and actually engaging in the real world, but they aren’t. It’s frustrating sometimes, because it feels as if so much potential is being wasted on useless, stupid arguments when the participants could have been doing something more productive in the first place. (Hey, if me being a student makes me a vital part of the conscience of America, I gotta put my honest opinion out there.)
My year-long honors English course is centered around the theme of disenfranchisement, the act of being made into an outsider. But sometimes, strangely enough, I like to feel like an outsider. I like to look at inane arguments and know that I have no place there, that there’s something much better to be doing than fighting fire with fire. I’m learning that the type of fire that actually needs to be fought can be fought with words, expression, logic, truth. I’m really grateful to have the chance to hone these skills.
Tags:comments sections, common sense brah, get off the internet, human interaction, idiocy, internet discourse, jesus, new experiences, new places, personal experiences, ranting, the internet, the real world
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