E10 Senior Supplement
The Chronicle
May 25, 2016
Just fake it ’til you make it, act the part By Cole Feldman
SU JIN NAM/CHRONICLE
THE A-TEAM: News Editor Cole Feldman ’16 and Opinion Editor Jonah Ullendorff ’16 worked on news and opinion content for the the A-section of the monthly Chronicle issues last year.
EUGENIA KO/CHRONICLE
FEATURES FELLOWS: Benjamin Most ’16, Sharon Chow ’16, Sacha Lin ’16, Vivian Lin ’16, Pim Otero ’16 and Su Jin Nam ’16 all worked in the Features room during the 2014-15 year.
I’ve always wanted to have a nickname. In elementary school, most people knew my closest friend (and idol) only as “B,” short for Bryce, and it described him perfectly. He was too cool for any more letters of the alphabet, and only someone of his notoriety could pull it off. His seemingly inexhaustible wisdom enthralled me, and I could not shut up about him. He taught me about girls and cars and told me impossible stories of his own adventures at his public school. I believed everything he ever told me. How could I not? After all, Bryce is one whole year older than me. He could spin stories like no other I have ever met, creating grandiose and complex narratives of wonder. Although his tales of seeing a 200-foot-long snake and surfing gigantic waves have become fiction to me, his confidence and conviction have remained ingrained in my memories of him. When people referred to him just as “B,” I saw it as the summation of all of his bravado. To be exact, I wanted to have his confidence and be exactly like him. Years later, the shadow of Bryce’s legacy and nickname guided me through my freshman year of high school. I heard his words in the back of my mind and truly tried to get out of my comfort zone for the first time. I joined the boy’s volleyball team on a
whim with no knowledge of the game. All I had was my old friend in the back of my head telling me to “fake it until I made it.” I went to my first practice only to discover that I would be practicing with the entire program, including the frighteningly veteran varsity team. I got hit in the face by countless balls, barely completed passes and plainly just sucked. I went back the next day for the same result. Wash, rinse, repeat. Regardless, I acted like I deserved my own nickname each time I played, and I was proud of myself for that. I competed for that recognition until a senior player pointed at me at an away game at St. Francis and called me “Sad Eyes.” It definitely wasn’t as suave a name as I had dreamed of, but at least it was unique. After this point, I realized the true lesson I gained from my friend all those years ago. All you need is confidence and a goal. I will need these words as I have to tackle the impending nightmare of adulthood and college. I have little knowledge of what I must do to be successful in life, and the first time I have to do my own taxes, I will probably finish looking a bit like the first time I stepped out onto the court. That being said, I will take my sad eyes and look capable every single time I attempt anything in the future. Whenever I will fail, I’ll look good and be that much closer to success.
‘The Real Slim Shady’ stands up
By Jonah Ullendorff
EUGENIA KO/CHRONICLE
PRESENTABLE: Presentation Editors Pim Otero ’16 and Su Jin Nam ’16, who edit page designs, hang out outside Weiler Hall.
What’s the coolest thing a guy could do? I think I nailed it on the head when my first impression on editor-in-chief Henry Vogel ’16 was of a weird kid who sat on the back of the bus on the first day of school in seventh grade memorizing the lyrics of every song by Eminem. I must say my social skills only improved from there when in eighth grade I told the football coach, Mr. O’Leary, that the main similarity between the middle school football team and Abraham Lincoln was that they both can’t finish a play. He gave me a detention, which he later offered would be rescinded if I just apologized to him. I stood firm though, bravely carrying out my detention, for I would not apologize to this man. I think I gained his respect that day, although I’ve had my doubts, especially after he declined my Facebook friend request I sent him for the fifth time. Perhaps my proudest moment was in ninth grade when, for an English project, I asked Willy Rosenfeld ’16, who left after ninth grade, what is the first thing that pops into his mind when he thinks of Jonah, and he asked, “Jonah Goldman or Jonah Carloss?” Which brings me to Eminem’s classic song, the one I memorized on the bus all those years ago next to Henry Vogel.
“Will the Real Slim Shady please stand up? I repeat, will the Real Slim Shady stand up? We’re gonna have a problem here.” (In the music video everyone then stands up). Now stay with me here, but I believe that no one is actually the “real” Slim Shady because Slim Shady as a concept is not real. The idea of Slim Shady is manufactured and imitated by Eminem’s followers and fans so much so that there is nothing that separates Eminem from the other “fake” Slim Shadys. And an identical crowd of Slim Shadys is a simple indication that there is no one single “real” Slim Shady. So here I am memorizing “The Real Slim Shady” in the back of the bus with Henry Vogel watching in awe of my rap skills, thinking I’m the coolest kid he’ll ever see in his life. I was hoping to make myself a replica of the real Eminem, Marshall Mathers himself (minus the lack of a high school diploma and felony charges), not realizing that the song I was memorizing was literally making fun of people like me. Wait, but before you stop reading in disgust assuming that this is another stupid column about the importance of being yourself and not conforming to others, I urge you to stay. I promise you that’s not where I’m going. Look, it’s no secret that people behave differently around their friends than they do around their family. Often people will
behave in contradictory ways for their own benefit. This is all to fit a certain mold that people want to be, but is this so bad? Is the way you choose to create this mold not, in fact, a reflection of who you are as a person? Who cares if Henry Vogel finds my amazing rap skills indistinguishable from the real Slim Shady himself? Isn’t that a good thing? Furthermore, those who rebel and claim not to be followers of ideals are in fact followers of the “anti-follower” ideal. Bring me a group of people claiming to be free thinkers and individuals, and I bet you would have a hard time differentiating them if you ignored their physical features. When I refused to apologize to Mr. O’Leary, I was not being an anti-conformist. Instead, I was just conforming to those who thought I was in the right and he had overreacted. Yes, it feels weird to be the least-known Jonah in the grade, and it stung even more when such a lesson was taught to me by Lord Willy himself, but that’s just a result of the mold I decided to fit into: a shy kid who is extremely admired by Henry Vogel for his superior rap skills. So when some loser tells you that you have to change because you’ve conformed too much into what society wants to, you just tell that plebeian what Mr. Roger’s told us all those years ago, “I like you just the way you are.”