2004-12-08 - 12:07 a.m.
In the spring of 2003 some friends and I collaborated to create a collection of mini-artists books one the theme of “I’m Angry.” “I’m Angry” is now being sold in art-o-mat machines around the country and now and again I dump the little books out of the box and examine my friends reflections on rage, anger and injustice.
On my staff bio for the newspaper this month I put “Is she really mean, or is it just the coffee?” Call is senioritis, but these days I have to suppress serious rage towards my classmates and the world in general. I have been at the point of turning around and asking many of them, “Why are you in college, no, seriously, if you are not going to engage with new ideas, why are you here?” I understand a lot of them are there because they were expected to by their families, or because Mom and Dad are paying a lot for them to live the hipster lifestyle in NYC. Or something. Maybe I have a hard time accepting the fact that not everyone has decided to use their liberal arts education to dedicate themselves to social justice, or at least, to just being the tiniest bit self reflexive and realizing they don’t have all the answers. I am worn out on sterile dialogue in these classrooms. I am not forsaking education, you see, but I am forsaking most of my classmates and probably most of my generation. Am I being elitist? Bitter?
I think a lot of my rage is misplaced. I understand that I am reacting to larger political issues, to the things that make me feel powerful everyday to something I feel I have more control over, my immediate environment. I suppose that’s part of the nature of being a control freak and also a kind of ineffective coping mechanism.
My friend Lala has a badge on her bag that says “Give a damn.” Not to reduce my anger to a simple message, but, well, exactly.
