The couple in Hills Like White Elephants are at a crossroads in their lives which is symbolized by their discussions at the train station. I had a similar experience with my friend, discussing our own personal crossroad in between high school and college, and how that affects our own lives.
Right after seeing Captain Marvel with my friend Mike, we were in the car blasting some throwback tunes. It was around 12:30 at night when we took off. The songs filled me with feelings of nostalgia, bringing back memories of high school. “Hey dude, doesn’t it ever feel weird being here?” I said. “What do you mean?” “You know, like, just being here at home while everyone’s in college.” “Yeah, it’s weird but I’ve just been trying to focus on work.” “I don’t know man. It’s just weird knowing that high school still exists like five minutes away from us.” “Yeah but we’re not in high school anymore.” “I know, I know. But part of me kind of misses it just because of where we are.” “Me too dude.” Just as he said that, we passed by a very popular shopping center called “Gateway” that used to be the hot spot in high school. “Gateway just feels different now too,” I said. “Yeah, I miss the days of me you and Greg getting Five Guys and loitering in the parking lot at night.” “I miss that too, especially running into kids from school at Wawa and other places like that.” “We don’t really miss the location. We just miss Wawa when we knew we would walk in and see three other kids we knew. We don’t miss gateway as a shopping center, we miss gateway when we knew everyone would be there. It’s not the place, it’s the people.” “Yeah, that makes sense.” After passing Gateway, we drove in silence for a few minutes. I pulled up into his driveway, ready to drop him off, but he stayed in the car for a little while longer. “I can’t wait to go away to college,” I said. “Yeah man, I’m looking forward to going to Bucknell in the fall. I’m just trying to enjoy the time I have left here.” “Yeah I’m still thinking about where to go. It’s kind of a struggle right now.” “Don’t worry man. You’ll find your place.” “Yeah, it’s just hard focusing on studying while being here.” “Yeah, but you have to use that awful feeling of wanting to get out to motivate you to get out.” “I know. I’m trying, but sometimes it gets tough.” Mike then recommended me these lectures by a man named Alan Watts to listen to at night because they help him get through similar struggles. We put a lecture on, and listened in silence for the full ten minutes. It gave me insight on some things I have been thinking about, and made me feel a little less alone. Once it was over, we said our goodbyes. I put on one more throwback song, and drove home.
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In “My Name Is Margaret” by Maya Angelou, Margaret is employed by a racist white woman named Mrs. Cullinan. Throughout the course of the story she puts up with indignities from her and ultimately rebels against her authority by breaking her most valued china. This rebellious attitude carries over into my life when I went to D.C. alone, despite being barred from the trip because of false statements.
My freshman year, I ran against a junior for a leadership position for a club at my school. Despite all odds, I won, and this did not sit well with my opponent. During my sophomore year, this person continuously tried to damage my reputation, attempting to sway public opinion of me. I spent the greater half of the year turning the other cheek and trying to be the better person. I never tried to stoop to their level. This caught up to me February of that year. The biggest and most anticipated trip that our club members attended was coming up. It was a three-day-long trip to Washington D.C. My school did not want me to attend due to the complicated situation of the club, and my grades in class. This judgement was primarily based on lies, so I decided to attend the convention on my own. The morning of the convention, I had my bags packed, I was in my suit, and I was ready to go. My dad dropped me off at 30th Street Station just in time to catch my train. On the way down, I had been texting my friends that I was going on the trip anyway. They were excited and scandalized. When I arrived to Washington D.C.’s Union Station, I immediately hailed a cab and set off to the hotel. My friend met me at the front of the hotel, sneaking me through the back and taking me to a room where I could store my luggage. When I returned to the lobby, I also returned with a name tag made specifically for me. Throughout the rest of the day, I participated in every activity I normally would have, and technically didn’t break any club rules. As the day went on, I became a little too cocky in my ability to get away with being at the event, and started taking risks. I sat on the dais on the main stage, putting myself in the eyes of around a thousand kids, and hundreds of adults chaperoning the event. I was having a great time. I finished the night off with a taco from across the street with some friends, and hit the hay. The morning after, I planned to sneak out. I had gathered my things and was on my way out when I ran into an obstacle: the program director of the event. She stopped me in the halls, pulling me aside and giving me a thorough talking-to. I immediately scrambled to leave the hotel and head back home. In the end, I decided that the experience was worth it. I was being denied something based on a falsehood. Sometimes you have to break the rules when the verdict is unjust. And because of all this, there is a new national rule within the club as a result of this whole ordeal. |
Nikko M.I will use this blog to express how I see the world and make sense of my surroundings. ArchivesCategories
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