The other day I revealed to my mom the philosophy of my life: my faith in God, love of people and desire for productivity. I think it's a pretty optimistic way to live life, and it's given this semester a sense of adventure. It's the kind of mindset that's constantly waiting for the next reason to find the good in humanity.
After almost a year of writing an editorial column for this little suburban enclave, you might think I had run out of ideas to share with the majority -- that all my questions had been answered. Unfortunately (or fortunately), that's just not the case. I've covered some of the lowest and highest points in the last year -- from racial and sexual controversy to football success. I think it's all been blown out of proportion in one way or another, but I have attempted to give a reasoned analysis amidst the noise. Whether I succeeded is up for debate.
For the past month I decided to completely remove myself from the campus beat. I've told the stories of four people or groups of people who, in my humble opinion, are living lives of simple spontaneity. From a weekly game of croquet to a hectic concert schedule, there has been a story to tell.
As a going away present for the next three issues, I will leave my position as Opinion Editor with more questions than answers. Because I'm still optimistic, I'm willing to accept that unless a wealthy alumnus is willing to rally behind my cause, nothing I suggest will ever be legitimately considered by the administration.
As former Richmond student Bruce Hornsby appropriately sang, "That's just the way it is. Some things will never change." And so I am happy to beat my head against a brick, gothic-style wall. I will, as always, entertain any response from someone who thinks they have some actual pull around here.
My pictures this week relate to what I call "Acute Insecurity and the Fear of Change." It's not a terrible thing in and of itself, but I see that this insecurity has created a campus that exists to serve the observer rather then the inhabitant. We live in what I consider a "postcard campus" that's just waiting for a snapshot, but not meant to be discovered on a daily basis. There's very little nuance and I don't know if there ever will be. So for all the people out there on tours, enjoy the view and know that it will still be here when you come back. But there are a few things you should ask your tour guide:
Why aren't there rope swings under the trees in front of Boatwright?
Why aren't there rocking chairs on the back porch of D-Hall?
Can you take me to your favorite piece of outdoor art? All I've seen so far is strategically placed boulders.
These things seem insignificant, but would add a lot of life to spaces that are otherwise devoid. A little bit of simple fun to make this place feel like home -- a little idiosyncrasy to make me look twice on my walk to class.
Contact opinion editor Michael Rogers at firstname.lastname@example.org
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