<rt talking about a paper I wrote for my Political Science class on Educational Policy this week. It turned out to be terrible; I turned it in a day and a half late, babbled for a chunk of it until it ended one line into the 10th page (technically satisfying the 10-12 page requirement), didn’t really answer a couple parts of the prompt, and then twisted the ending into an actually pretty pleasing rant about changing the balance of power in America.
But how on earth could I have ended up doing being so ‘iresponsible’ with my time? This week has been crazy. There’s just too much going on. It’s felt as full as a year; the Charlie that wrote to you last week is like a distant memory, like the person I see in Facebook pictures from junior year of high school.
Wednesday night Matthew Fitzgerald sent me an email suggesting we start working on something at Carleton in relationship to Occupy Wall Street: a talk, and then maybe a group of people that can talk about these things, maybe something bigger.
Fast forward through the next few days. Thursday we get Professor Terrance Wiley to talk. Fitz and I learn how to make a poster. (I think they turned out pretty well). Friday I start reading more about Occupy Wall Street. This information is some sort of tipping point. Between then and Saturday I realize how absolutely freaking crazy our lives are going to be. The financial disaster was a result of an incredible unsustainable and unjust governmental and economic system. For the people on this planet to live together in the way we need to, we will require war, famine, or a paradigm shift so large it shatters our previous conceptions of ourselves. I would prefer the latter. Saturday night I know what it means to be restless for the first time in my life. What life plan I have dissolves; I just know that I have to put as much energy, effort, and mental power as possible into the immediate goal of getting as much excitement as possible for Occupy Wall Street at Carleton. Sunday and Monday I don’t really write my paper, instead I do things like spend an extraordinary amount of time deciding upon the word choice of an email that ends up sounding way, way too dramatic. Monday night I don’t sleep, which almost never happens. Tuesday sucks. I wake up feeling physically sick and drained. Tuesday sucks. Wednesday is alright. I write the aforementioned paper, but spend more time being angry at the wasted effort of academia do actually writing the paper. If its so clear that certain policies work better than others, and the real problem is the political system, why do we keep writing about it? The rest of the week isn’t really worth watching.
What I do now, who knows. Writing this column seems right. I will do my homework later, and put a lot of effort into it. But big picture? I don’t know. I do know this: I have to act as if I have the potential to do a tremendous amount of good, even if that isn’t true. If I don’t think I can have an impact, then I wont.
Clearly, I didn’t go about my week in the best way, and I have so much more to learn, but that obligation isn’t easy for me to reason my way out of. Who knows what will happen in the future, or here at Carleton. I hope it turns out to be sweet.