So today's been interesting to say the least. That's my whole life at this point, honestly. Interesting. I'm still learning and I'm still trying to figure this all out.
I had my Norlin class this morning and watched my colleagues present. Their stories were so profound and wonderful and I'm so proud to have been in class with them. I am going to be honestly so sad when that class ends. Then came Ethics, where we talked about the projects and the ethics behind the Boston event, and it was interesting. I wanted to add some about how the US isn't entirely innocent—if people get too individualized, as Tocqueville says, we leave too much to the government, sinking into apathy and a benevolent despotism which can wage its wars where it wants and perpetuate the existing discourse on the subject or something. As you can see, my brain is not functional right now in the slightest.
Anyway. Then I ate lunch, did laundry, and watched Bates Motel, which was good I suppose.
Then I worked on my Norlin project, which I've basically been doing since 3 PM.
The topic is for us to choose a single story and either expose or defy it as the single story of you. I chose prose because I really fucking despise writing poetry and I'm terrible at rhymes. And I feel like sometimes my voice is lyrical enough to get my point across, so that's why I write prose.
So I guess, since I promised it and it embodies the spirit of this April and of this year, here it is: (you can skip to the end of this blog too if you don't want to real my drivel)
Almost Getting it Kind of Together
On the last day of my senior year of high school, I went and talked to my favorite teacher, and after a pleasant conversation, he stared at me and said, “You are one of the finest students and individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure to teach. You’ll do great things. I know you’re lost, but you’re a smart kid and you’ll figure it out.”
I smiled, thanked him, and hoped he was right.
I honestly love school. It’s been one of the greatest sources of joy in my life. It’s never been just a series of tasks to be completed—I’m a nerd, and it’s been my vessel to pursue the mysteries of the universe boldly without fear.
Coming to CU to study both chemistry and political science as a Norlin scholar where this is celebrated was probably the best decision I’ve made in the last year. I am so glad I’m a double major in these two opposing subjects. Going to chemistry to do a lab and working through the scientific process just fascinates me, and going to politics class both infuriates and enthralls me as I try to figure out what is happening in this crazy world. I get so excited about these things that I can’t even articulate it sometimes—it suffices just to say that I freaking love what I’m able to do up here.
This has been my single story for so long—I’m a nerd and I flourish whenever academia is involved. I’ve been happy and excited in these various institutions because what I love isn’t outside getting drunk or socializing—it’s discovering more new things about the multitudinous world we live in, be it through art or science or reading or just listening.
This part of me, the rational, logical, controlled, valedictorian, Norlin Scholar, fives-on-half-her-AP-exams, involved, perfected model of society, defined me for so long, and continues to do so. I grew up a little bit angry at this, because sometimes I felt like a complete disaster and needed to be a sad and angry and angsty teenager instead of always so cool. But I conformed. I hate confrontation, so that’s what I do. I convinced myself that those feelings couldn’t possibly be that big of a deal. I detached myself from my emotions, because almost everything can be solved by an intellectual challenge. You can control any data set, or economic outcome, so long as you set the parameters correctly and account for systematic errors.
This year I’m learning a lot in college about coordination complexes splitting the electrons of their nuclei, and why Thatcherism worked so well in the United Kingdom, and I honestly couldn’t be happier about that. You would think that because I am a nerd I would have a handle on this whole “life” thing in a university dedicated to the very pursuit I admire most.
But quite frankly, if I have learned one thing in the last year, it’s that I have no idea what the hell is going on.
This entire year has been more of journey than just my intellectual one. This has been an emotional ride. It’s safe to say I have experienced the full kaleidoscope of human emotions this year, and it’s been both terrifying and gratifying. It has been an education in what it means to be a person.
Throughout the last year I have been discovering that I am profoundly angry about the dilemma that modern life puts us in. It’s intensely dissatisfying. Living has become a dull routine of existence, and I’m so over it. I’ve had too much time to myself to think this over, to become bitter and jaded about the state of the world and the path I’m being forced to take—that of a functional, well-adjusted adult with a career and a family. I don’t think I’m able to do that. I just want to experience something pure and real in this life, and modernity doesn’t seem like it presents many options, amongst the all-consuming dysfunction and superficiality I’ve seen our lives descending into.
Sometimes I sit there, be it in class when I’m having a particularly bad day, or when I’m eating lunch by myself and my mind starts to wander, or when I’m sitting in the library without the motivation to keep going on, and I just feel like screaming. I just want to howl at the world, to have someone see the desperation and the fury lurking underneath this cool and collected exterior.
Quite frankly, I’ve talked to too many highly intelligent people that are just as disillusioned, sinking into a stagnating pool of apathy. I feel like we are a new Lost Generation, morally bankrupt and continually following the ideals of a world we don’t want to live in. And sometimes I wonder, if this is so prevalent, then why can’t we do anything to change it? Is there no alternative?
People always told me everything would make sense in college, when I was older, when life had happened to me, when I got out of my head and started to experience the world. But that has not been my experience. I thought I was finally going to get some answers, but every time I seem like I’m finally on the brink of even a simple answer, something comes along and presents even more questions. They present themselves as my own personal White Whale, perpetually usurping any sense of certainty I think I’m approaching.
I am not Ahab. I cannot slay this beast with the sheer force of my will or intelligence or faith. I cannot outsmart or think through this. I am more like Ishmael, who can only watch helplessly as everything crumbles and go along for the chase, because there is nothing else to do.
Sometimes I break. I’ve been on the verge of collapse for a good week now, and sometimes I think if I do break down I will never be able to get it together ever again. I am that angry and sad and disillusioned. I am so ready to turn away and never look back, tramping a perpetual journey, trying to escape this life I’ve been forced into.
And yet...
Yet, sometimes this whole “having feelings” thing isn’t so much of a bad thing. For the first time in my life, I am opening up to some truly phenomenal people and to the universe itself, in all its beauty and all its despair. For the first time in my life, I feel completely at home. I feel like I am finally standing on solid ground instead of falling perpetually into something or another, or just drifting around like the feather from Forrest Gump. There is a chance that they will hurt me. They have. The universe has. It’s opening yourself up for pain and hurt, just because you care a little too much. But the good things are so intensely necessary for our survival as a species that we take this risk. You cannot live in your head. You’re a whole person. And yeah, it’s terrifying and intensely difficult, but it’s better than living in ivory towers. The benefits I’ve reaped have been so worth it.
I am completely unsure of anything anymore. I don't know why we all have this severe existential angst, and I don't know why we keep believing in this idea of the American Dream when none of us want to, and I don’t know why I am the way I am, and I don't know why opening yourself up to the world's beauty and joy might only hurt you in the end. These are the questions I've faced for the last year, and they have been crippling.
But then there are some days when everything is raw and beautiful and the color of the sky just draws you up with its depth and you know your sad stories are intimately connected with your happy stories and you tilt your face up to the sun and feel the earth strong beneath your feet and it's just good and pure and real. That's all I've been looking for in these times. There’s always going to be this existential angst and there’s always going to be some dissatisfaction, but these are the days where the whale won’t attack, because for now, it’s out of reach. For a moment, it’s good.
It's not perfect, but it never is. That’s the point. That’s what being human means. It means accepting that not being in control is okay and that your emotions can’t be ignored. It means that your existential angst can be managed with some cathartic talks or by just listening to the world around you brimming with life and meaning. It means that the data might not always fit the curve, but that doesn’t mean you discard it. It means that governments are made by men, for men, and thus can be flawed. It means a deeper understanding of your place in the cosmos.
And I only hope to say that by accepting both of these parts of me, I’m on the road to almost getting it kind of together. And that’s all I need right now.
So, um, yeah. I think I got it but I can never tell.
I am seriously so thrilled with what BEDA's turned out this year. It's been a helluva ride, but it's been worth it. I appreciate everyone who's made an appearance on here, everyone who's been there for me in my darker nights, everyone who's seen me on my bright days and made them even brighter with your presence. Thank you so much for the compliments. I'm happy I'm not just shouting at a brick wall and that you read this wordbarf I insist on putting on the internets year after year.
I'll just tell one more story.
When I was twelve years old, when the world made more sense, I decided that I was going to be a writer. This led to seven books (all of which were horrific), countless short stories, a few angsty musings of a teenager trying to figure out life, and the beginnings of novels that never made it past the first twenty typed pages—all for a combined total of around 40,000 pages (a rough estimate that's honestly pretty accurate). I wanted to write at first for the fame and the fortune that would surely result from such a tiny lass turning out so many pages. I thought I could, at the very least, put myself through college with these revenues.
But over the years, it evolved into something else entirely. It became my best way comprehend the stupid situations I get myself into, the best way for me to understand the world, the best way for me to convey the ideas that make up me and for me to breach the gaps to the universals and connect with the human experience. It's made me a better human being, this writing. It's made me this person that can shout into a void and never stop hoping for an answer back.
I never expect an answer back, but I've heard a lot of feedback this year, from all of my writing, and it's so inspiring for me to keep going. You have no idea how much it means to me. To know that all of these stupid musings from an optimistic cynic mean something to at least a few people in this world. That's all that any literature is trying to get across—a story about what it means to be human.
So I just want to say thank you for putting up with my shit, and for making me a better person, and for helping me through the rough times and making the good times even better. Thank you for giving this hopeless wanderer a place to rest her head. Thank you for telling me that it's going to be okay. I can't tell you how much I love you all. Sometimes, like I said, it feels like my chest is cracking open and I'm filled with everything at once and it's just so fucking beautiful that the bad times don't seem so bad.
And I guess I'm going to always be looking for that.
In other news, I'm really excited for Iron Man on Friday, and I'm excited for this summer, and I'm excited for next year, and for the first time in a long time I'm looking forward to the future with bright and hopeful eyes. So thank you for that.
And I think that's all I have to say about that.
Until next April, thank you for reading :)
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