HAM

The night before graduation was probably the most literary evening I’ve ever experienced.  There was the mundanaeity of it all, the absurdity of having no idea what to say to people you had spent for years of your life with, mostly because you had, you know, spent four years of your life with them and literally had nothing left to say.  Then there was the emotional tension, the raw fear, hope, anger, frustration, excitement, joy, sadness, and beauty that inhabited our very movement.

There’s something absurd about being a college graduate right now.  We’re at this pivotal moment in the history of the U.S. and the history of humanity really.  It’s like being at the start of an adventure novel.  The tension of a journey about to begin was everpresent.  And then, to top it off, it began to thunderstorm and rain, hard.  It had all of the makings of a classic childhood event.  There’s something about heavy rains that just scream childhood to me.  And this one had it.  Standing out in the heavy rain, watching as lighting flashed across the clouds in the sky, trembling against the cold of the rain as the thunder rolled past, chatting quietly, contemplating life with a close friend.  It had all the cliched makings of an ending and a beginning.

Because, what’s interesting, you see, is I have a massive conceit problem.  I’m something of an attention hog.  I want, love, perhaps even need, attention.  I even applied to be a commencement speaker for that reason, I just love adoration of “the masses”.  It’s silly and superficial, I know, and I really hate it about myself, but there it is none-the-less.  When I told my friends I would love to be a 30 under 30, they scowled.  Which is fair.

But what’s interesting about a graduation, is that it shares a unique trait with another, more solemn tradition, a memorial.  Graduations and memorials are the only two times (that I can think) where lists of names are ceremonially read out loud, one after the other, in ceaseless succession.  What’s interesting about these times is that they both are preceded by endings: a graduation follows the end of an education, and a memorial often follows the end of lives.  But what’s interesting about both is that the names are read in succession, without any title or attribution.  The names are not important individually, regardless of the weight of their unique contributions.  Rather, the names are given recognition collectively, for the community they represent.  

So in a much appreciated “screw you” to my ego, I think graduation is beautiful because I was recognized, we were recognized, not for being individuals, but for being a part of a diverse collective.  The tension in that moment the week(s) leading up to this day were not individual, though the emotions might have been, rather they were collective.  We would not have gotten here without each other.  

So I am special, as Stuart John Urback, Carleton College Class of 2013.    But I am special not for being Stuart John Urback, but for being Carleton College Class of 2013, a unique representative of an incredible community.

I like writing toasts.  They’re fun and they let me speak melodramatically, which my pretentiousness enjoys greatly.

1. (Written at the end of my Study Abroad to Italy)

Saying goodbye isn’t easy.  I wish it could be.  I wish I could have the brevity of Bilbo Baggins, slipping on the one ring and disappearing into the night.  Better yet, I wish I didn’t have to leave.  I am quite honestly envious of those of you who have more time to spend with each other.

But I would like to say goodbye because we say how we feel so rarely and goodbyes are one of the few times we can.  So I’ll say it, I love all of you.  You are family and you will stay family.  Regardless of where our paths take us if you ever need a helping hand or a quiet conversation, you know where to find me.  You have made this term my best at Carleton, and, even if I could, I would not wish for better.

2. People (Written on a Whim)

There are only people.  I guess you could say there are only souls, depending on how you look at the world.  But it is what it is.  We sometimes wish that there were more, grand answers to be found somewhere outside of the mess.  If we could just escape people, it would be easier.  

Behind the art, the architecture, the poems, the stories, the suffering, the spirit, there are people.  We can study, work, learn skills, techniques, and disciplines.  We can travel the world, we can shrink into ourselves and there still isn’t anything else to be found, but people. 

Coming into college, I thought otherwise, I thought that you could get away from people and somehow that would make things better, easier.  In fact, if someone had told me four years ago that four years from now I would have a group of friends and acquaintances that I would miss dearly, I would have laughed. 

But that’s how I learned the golden rule: There are only people.  And to be honest, I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

Pictures will soon follow, but for now words must suffice.  The view from my room is beautiful, the building tops look like the perfect height to jump from building to building.  The apartments are surprisingly spacious and have tile floorings.  They are furnished by stuff from Ikea and have plenty of color.  Lots of orange in the decor as well, so I’m happy.

Also, apparently traveling in a foreign country with only one pair of clothing is rather tiring, so getting a change of clothing was an incredibly welcome change of pace when my baggage finally arrived. 

We had lunch in one of Mussolini’s summer home.  (Again, words can’t really describe this, pictures would do a much better job…)  The park itself was absolutely gorgeous and the courses just kept coming.  By the end the waiters had served us, deepfried vegetables, antipasti, flatbread, three types of pizza, snack, and espresso.  So it was slightly filling to say the least.

This week is mostly just going to be orientation period, explaining where stuff is, what the boundaries of the program are and how we can get around the city to accomplish what we want.  More to come later, as long as I don’t get swamped in the deluge of reading that is rapidly approaching…

Things I learned from a day of travel…

1) European airlines fly differently than American airlines.

2) Take pictures of everything.  

3) Charles de Gaulle airport might be the awesomest structure I’ve ever seen in my life.  The walkways to the jets were made out of glass!! I could definitely see myself just living there for a week.  

4) Exhaustion.  Apparently traveling, being a badass helper at a conference for a week, traveling, and then traveling to Italy is tiring.  Note to self, in future, don’t do this.  (Second Note to Self: This is likely not to happen)

5) Italian airports are cray.

6) Italy is a place.  That is awesome.  

https://apps.carleton.edu/campus/dos/asc/petitions/

A couple of months ago I decided to attempt to get something changed at Carleton College.  As a member of the Academic Standing Committee I was getting really frustrated by the fact that A) Special Majors were a needlessly long, arduous process and B) that students were clearly getting confused by the process.

If you click on the link and download the Special Major Petition Form, you will see the fruits of my labor.

So, I decided to change the form.  I worked on making it more colorful, clearly labeled, and added different questions and statements to explain how and why the questions were being asked.  Ultimately, it did add a couple of pages to the special major form, but I think it will make it easier to understand and a much less time consuming process (the average special major petition we had this year took at least 2 and often 3 meetings to complete, this would often add up to more than a month’s time).  I also hope that now that the requirements are more clear, it will encourage more students with different major ideas to attempt submitting them, now that they know exactly what a major requires.

The hug is a rather strange way of expressing affection.  It consists of two people embracing one another by wrapping their arms around each other’s torso in a vice-like grip.  The goal of the “hug” is to as forcefully expel the air out of the other person’s lungs as efficiently as possible.  Cracked ribs and bruises are simply icing on the cake.

If a “hug” is not forceful enough it is considered awkward.  Examples of awkward hugs are “arm-over” hug or the “ass-out” hug where one hugger refuses to make full bodily contact with the hugee.  In either case it is the lack of physical aggressiveness that defines awkwardness within hugging.  If a hugger becomes too aggressive, accidentally hurting the huggee, that is an uncomfortable situation, namely, it is not awkward, and is thereby better than an awkward hug.

Aside from awkward hugs, hugs tend to be used to in situations where large amounts of positive or negative emotions are at play.  Celebrations of large successes, disappoints, or even goodbyes are excellent contexts in which the “hug” can be effectively leveraged.  This is especially true in the case of the goodbye, where if the hugger is extremely effective, the huggee will be physically disabled from moving and/or leaving the situation, thereby negating the need for a goodbye.

The question remains, do we, as a society, hug too much, or too little?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFAdlU2ETjU