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Community? Engagements? Arts? Well, for starters this is a class taught at Transylvania University in Lexington, KY by professors Kremena Todorova and Kurt Gohde. The goal of this class is to form a relationship with the community by engaging in artistic projects with the community. The outcome of this will manifest itself in many ways, some recognizable and others not so much.
I admit it. We were probably a little too full of ourselves after taking first place in Transy Trivia. I don’t think we realized just how unathletic and nerdy we were until we walked into the Beck Center for the dodge ball tournament. That’s when the Try-Hards became The Average Joes and winning became having fun. How could we compete with all of the athletes who outsped and outmuscled us? I think Jordan Strouse put it best when he said that we were Masada and everyone else was the Roman army (a fitting reference for such an academic group). To everyone’s surprise, and even our own, we won our first match. Granted, we were facing a team as unable to throw in a straight line as we were, but a win is a win.
ReplyDeleteAfter that first win, we kept telling ourselves we were just in it for fun. But it was clear that we weren’t. The flame had been kindled. We were searching for expert dodge ball strats on our phones and discussing how were going to take on the baseball players, our opponents. Despite all of our strategizing, we got wrecked. Within the first minute, me and two other teammates were picked off. Then after pegging one of our opponents, we lost another player. The only one who remained was Seth Wyatt.
I was doubtful. Looking at this string-bean of a human being, dressed in bright blue cargo shorts, an Under Armour turtleneck, and wide-rim glasses, filled me with no confidence. I was proven wrong though. He twisted and turned, jumped, and ran across the court, dodging every single fastball they threw at him. He even managed to get one out.
The shame I felt about our team dissipated when all of the athletes who came to witness our defeat started chanting, “Turtleneck! Turtleneck!” Seth had single-handedly demoralized these baseball players. With the other athletes chanting at his back, our opponents stopped being cocky. They would back up and scatter every time Seth moved toward them. He started dancing across the court and taunting them, but eventually he was hit. Despite losing the match, Seth had secured a better victory. He had earned everyone’s respect.
Prior to leaving for the tournament I had laughed at what he was wearing. I quickly apologized after we left the Beck Center. Seth’s response was something along the lines of, “You just gotta be who you are.” That’s why Seth really won; he was himself and he wasn’t going to back down even when the athletes looked at us with a raised eyebrow. Looking at my nerdy teammates and myself, I began to believe what Seth told me. Be yourself. People will like you for who you are.
Yes!
Delete(Or they will not like you as you are, in which case what's the point of trying to hide it--you won't want to be with them either...)
The rule of thumb is that you’re not considered an alcoholic until you’re out of college. So I technically wouldn’t label myself an alcoholic but, let me tell you, I love to drink. I’m a pretty large lady with a grandfather from Ireland and a great-grandmother whose Native American, so I can really hold my liquor. I was looking forward to my 21st birthday more than anything else. My mother had been buying bottles for me since I started high school, so it’s not like I needed to be 21 to drink. But there’s just something special about being able to drink anywhere at anytime and not having to hide it because it’s ~ l e g a l ~
ReplyDeleteBut then I travelled abroad. My 21st birthday was going to take place in South Korea…where the legal drinking age is 19. Talk about anticlimactic.
I had been in the country for a solid month when my birthday rolled around. Even though my best friend was there with me, I was feeling pretty glum. Not only was I already allowed to drink legally, but my amazing friends, who I love more than I love myself (which is saying something), weren’t there to celebrate the glorious international holiday that is the anniversary of my birth. Out of the other students studying abroad, I had made one really good friend and dozens of sometimes-we-go-out-together-but-don’t-hang-out-otherwise friends. I decided to book an airbnb near my favorite clubs and throw a pregaming party to celebrate my birthday. Even when I advertised my lil shindig in all of my Kakao group chats, not many people responded, so I didn’t expect much.
But holy fuck.
We had upwards of 50 people crammed into that tiny studio apartment.
Most of them were my kind-of friends from school, but there was a handful of random plus-ones and a group of dudes from Norway for some reason. We played drinking games, I made them all sing me happy birthday in both English and Korean (the Norway guys sung it it Norwegian without being prompted), and I drank about 15 bottles of grape soju throughout the night. I blacked the fuck out so I don’t remember how my night ended, but I will always remember how it began. I was insecure and nervous about no one being at my party, but then more people than I could have imagined pulled through. I learned that when you’re in a new place, the easiest way to make friends is with others who are also new to the area. Because none of us really knew anyone else there, we quickly formed lasting friendships with one another. When my 22nd birthday came around, almost all of them wished me happy birthday and reminisced on our legendary party in Hongdae.
I believe in fast friends.
“I don’t know if I am going into the right career”
ReplyDeleteIs the title of the reason I am stressed this week
You know how some people just seemed to know what they wanted to be since they were in elementary school and just stuck with it, well that was definitely not me. I am in college and still question weekly if I am making the right decision for what I want to do with the rest of my life.
When I was in elementary school, I really wanted to be a writer. I would spend hours alone in my room writing stories. I had won awards for my stories and even wrote plays for my friends to be in. That dream faded in high school, when I realized I probably did not write well enough to be published. No one would pay to hear what I had to say.
My freshman year of high school I wanted to be a model or an actress. By I learned I was half an inch too short and low of cheekbones away from being a model, and a random girl from Tucson wouldn't become a famous actress.
Senior year of high school was the year you are literally forced to decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. It is the year of the Senior Exit Project, where you have to shadow, write a ten page paper, and do a presentation on what career you will be pursuing. Not to mention it was almost time for college, so I needed to be decided on my major.
I decided I wanted to be a teacher. The reason because I wanted to do something meaningful with my life. I wanted to make a difference in people's lives. People who had made a big difference in my life were my teachers and I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to provide food for students who are hungry and teach someone to read, something they will do the rest of their lives. I wanted to support students’ dreams and I wanted to make learning fun. I wanted to set up my own classroom and have a bookshelf full of books that would encourage my students to fall in love with reading. I wanted to be someone who was intelligent and cared.
Senior year of college, reality has hit.
I have bills and loans to pay.
And I am sorry this sounds materialistic but I like cute clothes and traveling.
The teachers in Kentucky are protesting because their retirement is being threatened and they are disrespected daily.
Not only will I not make enough money throughout my life, but now there is a possibility of not ever being able to retire.
It seems too late to change my mind but even if I did what would i do?
I can argue, but I don’t want to study law.
Needles, body parts, and weird growths on other people make me want to vomit.
I am not wired to be an engineer.
So what do I do when I want to teach and help others but I want respect and to live comfortably?
This is a week in my mind when I stress. Give it time and I will stress about something else.
I loved hearing you read your essay today in class. Thank you, Elizabeth.
DeleteI believe that collaboration is among the most frustrating things in existence on this earth.
ReplyDeleteI believe that if you volunteer to do something, you should fucking do it.
I believe that if you insist on being a member of a group, you better pull your fucking weight.
I believe that if you cannot pull your weight, you ought to think long and hard about whether you are in a group that is suitable for you, or whether you would prefer to stare blankly into space.
I believe that if I take on one more group project wherein people assert that they must be the ones in charge of an element of the project that is pivotal to the group’s success, then fail to take any action to ensure that that element gets done and is executed flawlessly, I will begin to bash my head against a wall repeatedly until I am concussed and am no longer medically able to continue my work on the project.
I believe that unreliable people should come with a warning label.
I believe that collaboration is necessary.
Yes! 100 % YES!
DeleteI’ve always been afraid of sleeping in the dark. The thought of leaving my closet door open at night literally freaks me out even now.
ReplyDeleteBut lately I’ve been thinking of who I want to be. Especially since I am about to graduate. And one of the things I no longer want to be is frightened. Especially every single night when I’m trying to go to bed.
And so one day a few weeks ago I got ready for bed. And I left the closet door open. That night I was particularly good at hearing and catching every single small noise that an old apartment from the 70s can make.
But eventually I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was proud of myself for conquering a fear I have harbored since childhood. But that fear came back the next night when it was time for me to sleep again. Only this time I gave into my fear and checked my closet, then proceeded to close the door and put my heaviest chair in front of it.
It’s been on and off like that for a few weeks now. Some nights I have the courage to go to bed with the closet door open. Some nights I have to make sure any monsters can’t escape.
But I do believe that slowly but surely I’m learning to conquer my fears.
You can do it, Joey!
DeleteI believe in the Gun Ban.
ReplyDeleteThis belief has been growing inside me for many years now and has grown into every particle of my body. No person has ever been able to convince me that my idealistic, naive, and hippy self to believe anything other than guns are pointless and bad for society. Especially in times like today where gun control is splattered all over the news, I find myself thinking about what the world would be like if there were no more guns whatsoever. Along with this, I like to think about what would happen to the united states if guns were outlawed only in the United States. Would there still be thousands of Americans mentally and physically scarred by the effects that these machines can have if they are used? What a foreign thought, how would the idiot gun lovers ever survive without their dearly loved guns rights.
This hatred for grew tens times over the course of five months. During this time I was fortunate enough to live in a county that was not as controlled (by idiots) as America was. In Australia, guns are illegal other than for the use of killing an animal. Using a gun to give humans an upper hand thus granting the human in complete control over a creature that is already at a disadvantage. The act of killing an animal that does not even stand a chance to fight back seems immoral. Though to most, especially insecure members of our wonderful society, see this act as a place to root their own self-pride, acting like children trying to have the biggest toy. As I digress, I need it to be clear that I am not in favor of any type of guns to be legal in the united states or really any country for that matter. I want to praise Australia for not falling into to large profit market of guns, unlike the that the United States. Australia only allows people to own a gun if the person will only be using it to protect themselves against animals after they have gone through an extensive application for the right to carry a gun. The results of these laws are what really tipped me over the edge for my hatred of guns, there has not been a single mass shooting in 22 freaking years. The united states cannot go 22 days without a horrible mass shooting happening. The evidence is so fucking obvious I cannot understand how people still think that guns are at all okay to own as private property. I am so tired and heartbroken that innocent lives have to be taken just because our government officials are too much of a slimebag to actually do something for the betterment of the people of this country. I am pissed and I DO NOT BELIEVE IN GUNS.
Agreed.
DeleteIf you’ve spent more than two hours with me in an enclosed space other than a restaurant, you know I love getting rid of objects. Old receipts, random screws, and cans of garbanzo beans 3 years past their expiration date have no chance when I’m around. I get tremendous pleasure both from the physical act of tossing something into the trash and from a feeling that what surrounds me becomes lighter with every toss.
ReplyDeleteSo you know why a list titled “50 Things To Throw Away for instant decluttering” catches my attention. I am drawn to it like a zealous third-grader to an approaching parent-teacher conference: praise begets more self-righteousness. But while the list of “50 Things to Throw Away” begins with the usual suspects—old magazines, burnt-out candles, broken make-up—it makes me pause at “socks with holes.”
Two weeks ago I faced socks with holes on a clothes line outside the small home of a woman which she shares with 3 people. Though her 600-square-foot house is tiny by most American standards, she is happy to live there with her brother and two nephews. In fact, she says she loves her house. Situated in a new development on the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa, the sand-colored house is proof she has been successful, after all the rented rooms she has lived in. She is happy she can welcome her extended family here, even though the three internal doors have no handles and the paint is already chipping. On the line outside, the underwear of her male relatives hangs on the line: an assortment of socks, a long-sleeved shirt, one pair of pants, and 3 pairs of underwear. The underwear is threadbare. But the socks fare the worst: each of them has a hole the size of a chicken egg.
Reading “50 Things to Throw Away,” I am reminded of the woman, her new house, and the socks of the men she lives with. I, too, knew growing up that you don’t throw socks away. They may have holes, but you can wear them to bed in the winter and feel cozy. Old socks can also be used to repair newer ones. And these are only two of the many reasons why you don’t throw socks away.
I believe in holding onto socks with holes. To put them on a list of quick throw-aways is a shame, for many reasons.