Oh Hubris and Random Thoughts

My parents finally got me to clean out a shelf of my old belongings left in their basement (I moved out in 2001). Among cherished dolls and forgotten stuffed animals, were papers - tons and tons of papers. Report cards, Girl Scout awards, unfinished short stories. Photo albums, notes passed in eighth grade still folded in neat triangles. And every issue of the Westfield State Campus Voice school newspaper for the two years I attended (I had a weekly column). Flipping through the pages, I'd scan headlines, fondly remembering the fun-loving sophomore class president, my friend's band that sometimes played on campus, and the names of dorms my non-commuter friends lived in. And then, before the paper divided into the added leaf, was my column. Right side, top of the editorials, right next to the weekly sports column.

My Random Thoughts - and random it was. Ramblings from my pretentious, major-changing, theater-loving freshman - self. I cringed reading some of the pieces - such naive and egotistical views of the world and myself. Musings about auditions, poetry about pears, and the enlightened view to capture each moment. Blech. Garbage. (Mostly garbage).

Now, as my much wiser self, I flipped through the pages, reading headlines I'm sure I skipped in my eagerness to see my own name in print. Apparently, the professors had a rally around their contract negotiations, holding signs and walking around campus. An RA got fired for drinking with residents. There was a rash of fires in the dorms across campus. And there was even a front page article about rape. RAPE. And even though I was right there, attending classes, writing for the paper - I did not remember any of these things. So caught in my own hubris, I was completely oblivious to the entire world around me!

So maybe it's good that my parents made me clean out that part of the basement - to come face to face with my 19 year old self. To laugh and cringe at my childishness, reminding me how young 19 really is. And how as long as my focus is on my name and not on the world, that I'm looking at things backwards. That I have evolved as a person, a writer, a woman - But in some ways, this blog is much like that weekly column - my own musings, only more informed from a life lived past the third page of a campus paper.

(One of the least cringe-worthy pieces from a class I remember often and fondly, although I do not recall the professor's name).