Journeys that conclude in nothing thrill me. It's a morbid fascination to wish for empty pots at the end of rainbows, but that's college for you.
Right now, in a weird twisted way, this ASU experience is going absolutely nowhere. It's a journey without an end.
German filmmaker Klaus Kinski made a monumental film that ended in nothing. A Spanish conquistador teeters on the edge of madness as he searches for El Dorado. We leave him as he stumbles about a raft with nothing to show for his efforts. The film was great not because it answered all the questions, but because it avoided them. It gave us a place to hang our own fascination. After all, everything we do has positive expectant results. Right?
Hardly. I'm sure that one day my degree (assuming I get one) will produce one of those "I'm-so-glad-I-went-to-college" moments, but if it only gives me one, then ASU wasn't worth it.
Dustin Hoffman's character in "The Graduate," Benjamin Braddock, went to college, look at what it got him: a European sports car, SCUBA gear and an over-the-hill, married drunk who did the right thing by flunking out of art school. It would be stupendously naïve to say that none of us will get equal or far worse fates with our degrees.
That's why it's perfectly OK to be content with failure. I've never heard of anyone blessed by fame or emblems of status that fell upon their unique distinction without massive misfortune of biblical proportion. To be totally fair to those of us who did befall so much of destiny's indignation, I wouldn't trust anyone who never had to deal with struggle. Martin Scorsese didn't become a master storyteller by acing his macroeconomics class. He sniffed his fair share of coke, had his arguments, his massive failures, but take a look at him today. He's on the brink of cinema legend. (Then again, the same can be said for Jim Morrison, and look where he is.)
The point here is not "it's OK to fail miserably," but rather, "it's OK to ruin failure's intentions and get ahead of everyone else." Or just drop out of school, something I'm seriously considering. I don't need it and you don't need it. The only people who need it are the over-calculated "professionals" who depend on our presence (and money) to survive.
This school lacks heart, character and, for the most part, even brain-cells. It's a tiny nation that revolves around itself. As a hopeless romantic hell-bent on keener, more dubious possibilities, I'm under the belief that the school has gobbled me up, sucked any motivation from my loins and spit me out, naked and helpless.
Now I'm lost at an uncaring school where people actually start sentences with, "I was so wasted last night and …"
Admission right her: Orneriness comes with a price—hatred. Sounding angry and being angry are two different things. I am angry. That's life though. I figure it's my Ben Braddock phase since I have no desire to do anything that may jumpstart my career. No, I'm happy. I've got a great job where I review movies, mosh at concerts, join all-around "goodfella" Ray Liotta for lunch dates and am given free access to anything that fits my fancy.
I rave about me (as if you didn't notice the "I"s") to prove a point and hopefully drum support for lonely, seemingly helpless folks similar to me. For those who feel lost and in agonizing pain at this pathetic universe that has claimed desert land in the East Valley.
I have dreams, I have goals. Can you say the same about yourself?
I want my work to be recognized for what it's worth. I don't want fame; I want recognition. I want brilliant thoughts to ooze from my fingers when I type stories. I want to find a nice Mormon girl who's shorter than me and taker her to fine restaurants where I can open her door and someone else can open her napkin. I want to show others the magnificence of music. I want to produce photographs that touch and move people within the confines of my $300 camera, with limited book smarts and on a meek budget for film and lenses. Are these selfish goals?
I don't think so. So the big question is, where does ASU fit into this? It doesn't. I'm ready to part ways with this school as I would a stranger on a street. Everyone that's still reading this should be willing to do the same. Your brilliance will come to you, but only at your convenience, not the school's. Choose school, don't be bound to it.
I'm flirting with madness, but I hate writing. It's painful, as is this ending.
Michael Clawson is a journalism junior and can be reached at michael.clawson@asu.edu.
