I LOVE MINNEAPOLIS BECAUSE OF WHERE IT IS GEOGRAPHICALLY AND NOTHING ELSE

I LOVE MINNEAPOLIS BECAUSE OF WHERE IT IS GEOGRAPHICALLY AND NOTHING ELSE

THIS IS A STORY ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE MINNEAPOLIS

By Andres Leon

Over the summer of 2022, I went on an ASI sponsored flight to the University of Minneapolis for a convention hosted by the Associated Collegiate Press. It was called the “College Media Mega Workshop.” Lord knows I needed it as I was going into my third semester as editor in chief for this magazine. It was a great experience. It was my first time traveling alone out of the state of California, and it was amazing to be an unknown entity in a new city where I had never stepped foot before. The weight of who I was as a person. My past, my present and any worries of the future had dissipated for the five days I was shacked up in a dorm, alone.

I met interesting people there, people who I wish I had gotten to know more or had a chance of forming better bonds with. Forming long lasting bonds has never been my strength. I’m a resentful and spiteful individual and my problem solving skills can be broken down into one key element, getting myself as far away as possible. It’s not healthy, it’s not smart and it’s outright self destructive, but by God it is effective.

One of my methods to making friends quickly in a new environment is to open myself to deprecating jokes, making a fool of myself in an attempt to make myself tolerable. This never ends well and is usually what sparks my resentment toward people, despite that I’m the one that creates that dynamic. I open the door slightly and people barge into my house. It’s a great read into whether or not people are assholes. If people are decent, they don’t push too far. However, I’ve found that it’s more common for people to interpret it as an invitation to use me as a punching bag.

In Minnesota, I didn’t do this and it was beautiful. I came as I was. I was a new person. It hurts to know that so long as I stay where I am, I’ll forever be the same person weighed down by who I’ve built myself up to be. I hate being known for who I am and I also hate not being known, yet I yearn so bad to be unknown. A cruel twist to this is that I feel unknown to myself. I feel as if I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not. I still feel like the same frightful teenager I was growing up. I grew up a bastard child, which isn’t significant, but it means I spent weekends with one parent, weekdays with the other. A constant back and forth. At some point I cut off all contact with one of my parents just because I was tired of their antics, yet they were the window into a younger version of myself. There are so many aspects of myself that are simply lost or unattainable.

Up until the age of eight, I had an aunt, uncle, their two children who I loved being around. I would always ask to be around them or to visit their house. They had asked my parents if I wanted to go to an amusement park with them, but I said no for some reason, so they took a younger cousin of mine. They all died in a car accident on the way there. Probably a reason why I don’t like going to amusement parks. Like that, another facet of myself forever lost, another reason why I’m so disconnected.

I can’t think of myself as a child, because I have no recollection of being a child. I don’t have any fond memories I look back on, I don’t have a smell that makes me feel safe. All I have is the memory of sitting in front of a computer screen for 10 hours a day minimum as a child. It feels like I grew up on the internet. I’m happiest when I’m sitting in front of a screen alone, which is mind boggling to me.

While in Minneapolis, our group advisor put us in groups of three to cover a fair in Minneapolis as a journalism exercise. We had some down time afterward and sat at a bar and began to make conversation. I had trouble talking about myself or what I did, it was as if I never had a life before landing at the airport.

I recently saw someone I hadn’t seen in a while at my birthday celebration. I previously texted them that I had a lot to catch up on — so they had asked what happened in my life since we last talked. My mind went blank, and I couldn’t think for the life of me what had happened.

I always feel like I’m waiting for each moment of my life to pass until I reach a time where I’m content and happy. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for the next phase. I haven’t sat by idly either, I’ve always driven myself forward into the next scenario, clinging to any morsel of hope that I could find.

While at that bar in the fair in Minneapolis, I ordered my first drink on tap. The topic of the future after college came up, and the question of what we’re going to do after we graduate. That question never stressed me out, I don’t really care about what I do. I said that I planned on taking whatever job that would pay me a grand annual salary of at least $40,000 and preferably not in the media. I was met with a “that’s cool, man, I get that,” which was extremely refreshing. A common response to me saying that is looking at me like I bombed the fucking Pentagon. I hate working in the media. There are too many egos.

I won’t say I’ve hated being editor in chief, but essentially that. It’s been the blind leading the talented. When I applied for this job in the Spring of 2021, I had one thing on my resume, working for Home Depot from 2019 to 2021. I was a cashier and eventually overnight freight worker. It was my first and only job, and there I was, interviewing for a managerial position with 22 West Media that required me to have talent. It was the semester we were coming back to campus as well, and I was handed a magazine that printed three times a semester with little to no plan, guide or know-how. How is someone who can’t remember their own life going to manage to be editor in chief of a magazine? Beats me. I feel like I can’t even remember most of this experience. I look at old pictures and videos of myself in this job and I’m baffled that I’m still that person.

There’s a photo of me smiling while in Minneapolis, it’s a genuine smile and I look so happy. I look at that photo now feeling that same emotion of disconnection from that version of myself.

Now I’m leaving feeling like I’ve learned nothing and have just barely managed to scrape by. I have met so many people here worthy of so much more than student media, worth more than the mistreatment and mismanagement they face. I mean this broadly as well, no environment is free from assholes, low pay and low hours.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to look back on this whole experience as editor in chief. I had a lot of fun, but it all felt like a distraction from my life. A scapegoat to act busy. I thought I’d write this so I could remember the feelings, but I’m sure I’ll grow resentful of this as well when I’m ultimately ostracized for it.