Posts Tagged ‘school’

She Don’t Hang

Tuesday, July 19th, 2022

A good fourth of my bedroom floorspace is currently taken up by filled bags and storage bins waiting to be loaded into a car and actually get put to use. I’ve got an upgraded laptop arriving at the beginning of August and numerous niche band posters on my eBay watchlist. A pristine double room in one Johnson Hall awaits five hours away. It feels too good to be true.

One month left.

My anticipation towards heading off to Kent has only been rising recently. So is the anxiety. I’m going off to Ohio, and Ohio is a state currently best known for being a place that ten year old girls have to escape from if they want to get abortions after being raped, so I can’t help but feel…weird…about it. Especially when I get to see people literally flat out say not to go to colleges in states that crack down on abortion, which, despite being aimed at the peanut gallery and not me personally, make me paranoid as hell. Ah, the internet.

Back in the protesty heyday of the swinging sixties, Kent State was considered a “liberal oasis” in a cesspool of rednecks that I can’t imagine being not too dissimilar from the cesspool of rednecks I get to experience living where I have my whole life. Pennsylvania? “Liberal”? Really? When a house a few blocks down from me boasts a cutesy cartoon cutout of No. 45 (seriously) and a “Not My President” sign in the front lawn, I think not. When I say that Ohio feels like a home away from home, I mean that in both the best and worst ways possible.

I tried for college in my supposedly libby home state. It didn’t exactly work out. I actually got accepted into a school not very far from my home base that my parents always dreamed for me to attend. It is much more traditionally prestigious than Kent and also happened to support the draft during the Vietnam War (no kidding). Their admitted student day event opened with possibly the most boring, statistics filled PowerPoint slideshow known to man, one that not even the parents should have had to sit through, never mind the kids. I did not retain most of its pie chart-laden glory. But I do remember the main emphasis of the power-dressing young female presenter’s speech on the school’s well-rounded curriculum: that it would help “market” students to future employers. She then went on to highlight all the shiny big name corporations graduates of the school had entered careers at. What a reason to get an education—so that your parents can smile at your hefty paycheck and how charming it is that you work for Google or Disney. Unlike the squeaky clean cardboard cutout of a college kid that exists inside the heads of people like that, I’m not aiming to stay in a certain lane to make the faceless head honchos I’m apparently supposed to be pleasing feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I may please some people as I make my way down the highway of life, but my trip is mine. I would rather not have someone who thinks they know more about my life than I do try to make life-altering decisions for me. Sound familiar?

I could go on about the multitude of reasons why I’ve chosen Kent State, but I’m not in the mood. I don’t feel the need to ‘prove’ my decision to anyone, and I feel comfortable not having that burden. I was granted the ability to take the chance that I wanted to take, and it would be silly to throw it away for something subpar and unfulfilling.

It’s my choice, and I’m sticking to it. Having few freedoms left, I feel strangely proud of that.

Crunk Against Humanity, High School Dance Edition

Saturday, May 14th, 2022

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.

Fun-MUN

Tuesday, February 22nd, 2022

Last weekend was my second excursion to Fugaziland, otherwise known as Washington, D.C. Instead of engaging in punk rock rambunctiousness like last time, I had a much more formal mission: my first Model UN conference, the North American Invitational Model United Nations. I had always been interested in Model UN, but I never embarked on it until the beginning of the current school year. I’m very glad I did. Never would I have thought I would have an experience like I did at this past conference before I started college.

I wasn’t used to being around people my age who weren’t the same people I saw every day at school, and it was a little strange how everyone looked so familiar yet so unfamiliar. But I got used to my surroundings quickly. I joined the crowd of gussied up teenagers checking their notes and crossing their fingers, and I fit right in. Transplanted from my usual surroundings into a swanky Hilton hotel, I found myself representing Hong Kong in the C40 Cities Climate Leadership Group, working with other high schoolers to tackle the problem of urban greenhouse gas emissions. It was a lot less nerve-racking than it sounds, especially considering that the real world implications of those decisions weren’t actually weighing on us. It was a fascinating and enriching time hearing the stances of everyone else’s assigned city, which resulted in some heated debate despite the general consensus that climate change equals bad, and working out alliances and plans. Many sixty-second speeches were given and many notes were passed.

Our committee meetings were spread across four days with plenty of time to explore the hotel and the surrounding city (within the radius designated by our advisors) in between. On Friday my school’s delegation took the metro to see the Capitol building (from a distance) and the Washington Monument (which I got to lean against). It was slightly surreal being where a homegrown coup against democracy had been attempted, even if it was from afar. When you spend so much of your life picking up on worldly events from afar it’s interesting to find yourself at Ground Zero, even after everything seems to have settled. I felt similarly watching the news about Russian escalation in Ukraine on the flatscreen in my hotel floor’s lobby while waiting for the extremely congested elevators. So many monumental changes happening while everything else in life seems to remain just as it was…I read a good Tumblr post about this phenomenon the other day—diary entries from the past casually mentioning the beginnings of large-scale wars and man’s landing on the moon beside daily routines and boy gossip. There’s more than two sides to every story, I guess.

At least, the metro looked gorgeous.

But at the conference I didn’t feel like I was just sitting idly by while everything happened around me all at once. I had a role to fulfill and duties to undertake, and I engaged in them successfully. On top of that, socializing was easy considering that almost everyone else was a stranger. I met people from New Jersey, California, Mexico, and Puerto Rico to name a few, and everyone was friendly and open. No matter where we came from or what our committees were, we were all united by the same purpose: to solve some problems and flex some mental muscles. That uniting factor really opened up my horizons much more than being trapped in a high school I never made where everyone else has been BFFs since their elementary years. And in the end, through these alliances and plenty of teamwork, it did really feel as if we had gotten something done when our draft resolutions passed. We had shown our ability to take responsibility and work together. It was a truly liberating experience in every sense, and I almost wished it didn’t have to end.

The day after I got home, it was abnormally nice out, nice enough to take a walk through the neighborhood in a three-quarter sleeve cardigan and my favorite leather-y jeans. If only the weather had been so agreeable down in D.C. It was brisk the entire time we were there, and the winds almost bowled me over as I stalked the street down from the hotel for Thai food that Saturday. I didn’t actually think my group would be leaving the hotel throughout the weekend, so I didn’t pack a coat or gloves. I made do by layering the three blazers I’d brought along. I think it’s going to be a hip winter fashion trend next year for those who follow the philosophy that “beauty is pain.”

The attire of champions.

But upon returning home, I got to crack open my bedroom window (in February!) and let the fresh air float in without freezing to death. There’s something about the spring air that stirs something inside of me, that end of seasonal dormancy. It makes me feel as if things are happening as opposed to having to wait for the world to unthaw. I know things are happening for me, no matter how frustrating life may be at times. In the next few months, my concept of normalcy will be changing, and it will resemble the freedom I experienced last weekend more than what I’m going through now. I couldn’t be more jittery—in the best way possible, that is.

Ar[rrrgh]t

Wednesday, February 9th, 2022

Last week in one of my classes I participated in a discussion on whether or not art should be considered important during turbulent times. Unfortunately, it became a reminder of how warped some people’s interpretations of the world are. According to some, in times like these, art should give way to other, more important things. What exactly these “more important” things are was not elaborated on. Funnily enough, they also clarified that, despite its lack of importance, art is also a luxury, which is why it is not needed all the time. Hence, art both holds value and is lacking in it.

If these people had opened their eyes, they would notice that art practically suffocates us everyday. The clothes on your back, the car you drive, the building you live in and the buildings you wished you lived in, the fancy garbage can in the kitchen that has a foot pedal to flip the lid open—all of that had to be designed by someone. You can go to a museum gallery or you can go to Times Square—you’re getting an eyeful of art either way, and it influences the world in many ways. Life does imitate art, after all.

Throughout my entire life, art has been a defining force in shaping my worldview and introducing me to new ideas. Being trapped inside for months due to the pandemic only strengthened my appreciation for it. Art has whisked me away to weird and wonderful places that revel in the absurd and tickle the funny bone. It has also grounded me in reality and reminded me of the essential work that still needs to be done. It’s motivated me to express myself in my own ways and take action where it is needed; it’s connected me to likeminded people and pushed me to go places I never would have thought to go to otherwise.

I know from experience that the best art is art that serves as a call to arms, challenging the mind and encouraging action. It can do so silently or with immense fanfare. It can fight back against the boot that kicks the outcasts and inspired dregs of society with a bang; it can upend entire social orders momentarily without anyone knowing unless they stop for a second and think. Often times, art is the only force of true change in a world of stagnation drained of hope. It’s a refuge from the soul-crushing monotony of the daily grind to think, If that person has the gall to do that, maybe I can, too! It’s a healthy alternative to giving up. And that thought process can translate to true impact if one lets it; it can set off a chain reaction. If one person can change their outlook on the world or the way they go about their day because of a song they heard or a book they read, that’s great. If someone can pass that mentality on to someone else who can pass it on to more people who can pass it on across the globe, forming networks of connection and camaraderie, that’s incredible. That possibility is art’s greatest power. It only depends on how one uses it.

So, does art have value in these trying times? I argue an emphatic “yes.”

Got Movie?

Thursday, January 13th, 2022

I saw the movie Shrek for the first time this week—well, part of it, anyway. The other Jungen und Mädchen in my German class voted for it for a post-break movie day and came out on top.

Shrek is one of those pieces of children’s media that is widely considered a staple of my generation’s media consumption, yet it completely passed me by growing up. Ironically, I also watched my first full episodes of SpongeBob Squarepants in the same class at least a year ago. I always knew of these things through cultural osmosis and memery, but I just never watched them either voluntarily or involuntarily, and I probably wouldn’t have watched them voluntarily anyway.

Whenever situations like that come up, I feel like I am an alien field reporter coming down from my satellite, observing Earth and its cultures, gathering information from the locals, trying to process their collective memories surrounding such media. I’ve gotten used to being separated from certain strains of that cultural mind. But it’s interesting gaining a better understanding of whatever comes my way in bits and pieces.

Just don’t shove Disney princess movies down my throat anytime soon.

Circumstances

Friday, December 17th, 2021

Good news: I survived school today!

I’m not saying that because it was a bad day—it was an average day, and my week was a good one overall. I say that because some attention-seeking brats decided to use TikTok, the greatest social media platform there is, to spread false rumors of nationwide school violence today in the aftermath of the horrendous Oxford, Michigan massacre. I guess the human race still needs to prove how senseless it can be. It blows my mind how someone could look upon such cold blooded slaughter and then capitalize on it by spreading useless, irrational fear capable of unsettling people young and old across the nation. We are already bombarded with an overload of subliminal fear-mongering in our day to day lives; we don’t need a new generation of coddled edgelords continuing the grift. If I’ve learned anything by watching the twenty-first century news cycle, it’s that

  • my university of choice is going to be overrun by this gang of frothy-mouthed militants
  • my hometown is going to be Hiroshima’ed by that warmongering country
  • my few hopes and dreams are going to be stolen by this capsized group and
  • my entire life is in the hands of that secret-but-not-secret cabal of all-powerful baby-slurping ‘liberals’

messages that only encourage the populous to withdraw, to mistrust others, to get a gun and keep it loaded. Make sure it’s military grade, too; and never keep it locked up—you never know when you’ll need it.

Luckily none of my peers felt that need today, as the school day went without disruption. I wore a discreet Safe As Milk pin on my shirt because the other thing weighing heavy on my mind was that today marks the eleventh year since Don Van Vliet—better known as Captain Beefheart—died. A quote of his hangs attached to my bedroom mirror—“The stars are matter; we’re matter; but it doesn’t matter.” Offbeat, yet eloquent. Maybe if we chose people like Beefheart over the fear-mongers in power, we’d be a better species.

Don’t Be Gaslighting Me, Mofo

Friday, August 27th, 2021

Fall is truly falling, isn’t it?

While my previous logs were written from my room, I wrote the entirety of this piece over the course of a few study hall periods, as school is back in session. I must admit, I forgot how much teenager germs still make me gag, all the more a reason to wear a mask walking to and from my classes. Almost all of my peers are abstaining from wearing theirs since there is no enforced mandate. My COVID concerns still linger, so it’s still slightly unsettling, but I’ve managed to make myself comfortable. It helps that all my teachers are nice.

Yes, fall is kicking in, though the runoff of the hottest summer the Northern Hemisphere has ever experienced (thanks, climate change!) doesn’t make it feel that way. Neither does darling little Delta lingering around the corner, waiting to crash your party and leave you realizing the next morning that the previous night wasn’t as good as you thought it was. It’s a real pity. I thought this was supposed to be an ascending fall, but I guess the only positive curve is the hospitalization graph!

On my calendar, September holds large scale events that I have been anticipating since March of last year, yet the threat of Delta’s dance keeps them hanging in the balance. The first on my list, the Riot Fest gathering in Chicago, has already had two of its biggest acts—Troubled Trent! Frank! Nooo!—withdraw out of COVID concern only to be replaced by…Slipknot. Didn’t one of their members just catch COVID, and didn’t another one just straight up die a few weeks ago? My condolences, of course, but I didn’t expect overly angsty (and, it seems, painfully mortal) nu metal to be the soundtrack to the world’s reopening.

Me being me, the prophetic songs of DEVO, who are still on Riot Fest’s bill and have a show I’ll be catching at Radio City Music Hall two days later, sound like a much better choice. They also seem brazenly enthusiastic about finally getting back out on the road after years of Mark Mothersbaugh being too busy making movie score money. I assume they trust their fans with actually taking precaution and getting their shots, considering that both of the group’s frontmen have caught the virus in its early days; Marky Mark even needed a ventilator. His recovery was also apparently interrupted by the indulgent partying of the youthful TikTok stars living next door, a modern day exercise of the “live fast, die young” mentality that has latched onto so many. There’s no good future in sight, so why not submerge ourselves in fun, partying, tossing cash around, assorted acts of degeneracy that our parents’ bank accounts let us get away with while we still can? It’s saddening to see, yet it’s not an unnatural response considering the circumstances.

It seems like everyone is thinking, “what can I do that makes me happy before the world burns?” That includes myself. But typing on an energy-consuming computer with the lights on isn’t actually as damaging to the environment as carbon dioxide-pumping, uselessly polluting companies want me to think. Neither is letting yourself loose in a crowd of like minded people while your favorite (and not favorite) bands bring their songs to life.

So, DEVO and Slipknot, eh? Not all jumpsuit wearing, clown mask bearing bands are made equal. But can we expect anything to not happen at this point?