And we’re back. It’s been a summer full of N’SYNC reunions, enough Blurred Lines to last a lifetime, babies being named North West and George (somewhat equal in crime) and Detroit is going bankrupt. Congratulations. You’re all caught up if you’ve been living in a cave, or like me, in a remote town in the middle of nowhere. Clearly it has been fun for all.
That being said, there’s been a surplus of a little something I’ll call “Summer Stupid Syndrome.” It’s when all intelligence and responsibility pour out of your brain because you aren’t in school and your brain is simply trying to prove it. You set your alarm in hopes of waking up at a reasonable hour, you sign up for a gym membership, and then you remember how ridiculous all those aspirations were and continue to enjoy a lazy summer.
Now that we’re back in school, we know that intelligence and responsibility are expected in a moderate capacity, but there will be exceptions. So I urge you — choose your stupid wisely. Whether that means you plan to skip chapel for 15 days in a row and need to plan accordingly, or whether that means joining a group of people that will encourage you to dress up with them and look ridiculous a lot of the time (club week) — you’re going to look stupid, so be smart about it. Which brings me to my next point, looking stupid and being stupid are totally different things. Being stupid happens — sometimes you plan your schedule without lunch breaks. Sometimes you convince your teacher to let you into the advanced level of Spanish when you only know a few key words. Then before you know it, the unfortunate similarities of the Spanish words “butter” and “make-up” leads you to a place where you’re standing in front of the class calmly explaining how in the morning you brush your hair and put butter on your face. Slightly embarrassing, but it rid me of my fear of class presentations because I knew I could do no worse.
Sometimes, you’re going to look stupid, but you risk it. Ray Bradbury once said that risk is simply jumping off a cliff and building your wings on the way down. It may seem stupid to jump off a cliff (after all, your mother warned you about this regarding following your friends’ pursuits) but sometimes it’s just worth it.
And I don’t mean getting into trouble, disregarding rules or being a general burden to society, I just mean putting your self out there. Whether it’s your first year or your last year of Harding — make the most of it. Audition for stuff, join a club, meet new people. It may feel like you look stupid, and really, you do — but take it in stride.
People learn from these kinds of experiences, and more importantly, they grow.
So, I guess my final question is if all of your friends jump off a cliff, are you going to also?
