It seems like it’s that time of the term again. As the temperature outside continues to drop, our hearts for each other only grow warmer. We are reunited with the familiar faces of our friends, unabashedly running across the halls of Baker Lobby for the sweet embrace of friendship. And as we are greeted by a fresh set of classes, with our grades still undetermined, we fix our gaze at the green light at the end of the dock —— inspired to reach the light at the end of the tunnel. But in the midst of this quixotic naiveté, we forget about the darkness we must traverse through in order to reach that light. Don’t be fooled for even a second, as this is only the calm before the storm.
I wasn’t always this jaded, for I too was once a freshman. I fondly recall the sweet eagerness I embodied at the beginning of each term. I was propelled forward by the hopes and dreams I set up for myself, whether it was becoming an academic superstar or not getting golden tree-ed each time I went out, I stood by these ideals adamantly. But with each visit to Dartmouth’s Banner Student and frat row, my tender heart would only grow harder each time I looked back on my lackluster performance. Now in my sixth consecutive term on campus, I have come to discover a timeless truth that those ideals are ubiquitous across all planes of this hellhole we call home: we are trapped in a vicious cycle of cynicism and disappointment.
But this is not grounds for unfettered nihilism, nor is it an excuse to be irretrievably depressed for the rest of our undergraduate experience. There has to be something that keeps us moving forwards —— something that grounds us in our exhausting pursuit for excellence. As I mentioned at the beginning, there is a light at the end of the tunnel: NARP Meets World.
If you are new to this column, or perhaps a fan returning from last fall, there is one standard and one standard alone that I will painstakingly adhere to no matter the circumstance: providing novel and creative content for your pleasure. Even today, the Sunday of my first week back on campus, I have been burning the candle at both ends for the sake of your entertainment. But I wonder how long I can continue providing respite in this lonely town. If we are to be a bit honest with ourselves, it is clear that this column is growing a bit stale.
Each week, it’s the same recipe. I haphazardly pump out 800 words of pure nonsense that revolves around the same central themes: academic rigor, the stacks, overdue deadlines and self-deprecating humor. And if you take the time to search how many times I have said the words “nonsensical banter,” you’d come to realize that this column is reaching the end of its journey. I can’t fool you guys, nor can I fool myself. I’ve hit a wall, and I’m not sure how much further I can continue going.
For five consecutive weeks last term, I have exhausted all creativity my feeble mind is capable of producing. But what propelled me forward wasn’t a rich pool of genius lurking in my mind, nor was it the stardom that followed me everywhere I went. The equation was simple: stick it to the man.
The very core of NARP Meets World was supposed to be a symbolic movement representing freedom of speech within a tyrannical organization known as The Dartmouth. With each article revolving around everything but sports, I was waging warfare against the corrupt leaders from inside of the organization. It was an arduous 10 weeks, but I had won that battle. With the instatement of a fresh pair of executives and editors who could not care less what I write about, the battle had been won. I am now able to write about anything I want. Yet why do I feel so empty?
Even now, as I am writing this article, I have lost the fire in my soul to keep going. It’s simply not fun anymore. I am beating a dead horse that has already lead me to victory. I can literally write anything I want, about anything I want and I know it will get published. NARP Meets World has lost its rebellious nature, making it as banal as the rest of the articles posted in The Dartmouth. From boom to bust, I have become a pile of dust, blown away by the harsh winds of Hanover.
Where do I go from now? What do I write about to entertain the fan base I built from nothing over the course of 10 weeks? It’s possible that from now on, I just might start writing about sports.
