VOL. VIII ISSUE. 9 FEB 22, 2020
VIENNA WAITS FOR YOU third year priya desai
photo by catherine campbell
then. if you told me at 12 that i’d still be in the (now blue!) state of georgia, living with people i went to high school with, and writing an article about myself that other people would actually read, i would have assumed you were playing some sort of joke on me.
slow down, you crazy child… i’m in between therapists right now, which means that everyday, i listen to vienna by billy joel at least four times and try to picture myself as the main character in a young-adult coming of age film who is finally beginning to figure her life out. if you haven’t had the privilege of listening to the most therapeutic song ever created, i strongly urge you to take a moment (3 minutes and 34 seconds, to be exact) for yourself right now. you got so much to do and only so many hours in a day
take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while it’s alright, you can afford to lose a day or two one of my new years resolutions has been to spend more time alone. these days, i’ve been spending hours with my phone off, completely disconnected from the world around me. it feels alien to me, as someone with perpetually six hours or more of screen time everyday. i’m trying to learn how to live life on my own terms again, without the constant obligation to everyone else, the way we all did as children. you can get what you want, or you can just get old
the first time i ever heard vienna, i was visiting my sister at her college apartment. i was a middle schooler, meaning that my life sucked, so we watched a romcom i had never seen: 13 going on 30. i so desperately wanted to be thirty, flirty, and thriving, to have it figured out, just like jenna rink—before she actually wakes up at 30 and ends up crying on a train back home to her parents while vienna plays, realizing her life is nothing like what she imagined it would be.
i remember being 12 and listening to vienna by billy joel, certain that no one had ever felt as Seen by one song as i was in that moment. and i’m sure i’ll remember being 20 and listening to vienna during every car ride, despite the protests of my friends. and someday, when i’m 30, i know i’ll still be listening to vienna, being reminded to slow down every once in a while and let the future come as it is. a lot of days, this unknowable future is terrifying, hanging ominously over me, dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true despite my best-laid plans. other days, i am grateful to be certain that i don’t know what lies ahead, to live my it’s been years, but i still think of that scene often. these life as it is, knowing that vienna waits for me. days especially, i feel 12 going on 21, and i’m not sure my life is anything like what i imagined it might be back when will you realize… vienna waits for you?
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TO THE NEW YEAR
fourth year annette aguilar
I - tick - tock - tick - tock pressed so tightly my eyelids are what will be the first desire? perhaps it is to become a bit lighter i prop the purple grape in-between my lips the new year has begun!
VIII - tick - tock - tick - tock and that is the tricky part of this all to start, create, or to be placed at a beginning the most important thing is to be forgiving for it can allow us some room to breath this one’s for a year of pardon!
II - tick - tock - tick - tock holding the cup of grapes i think ‘tis only the second wish but i make it so i can flourish to be fair, i do not know what to make of it maybe i will be better prepared this year!
IX - tick - tock - tick - tock well, i should make some resolutions let’s start with the basics: manifest acceptance to all the things so i can harbor independence and hopefully along the way, i gain more peace so this year is filled with it!
III - tick - tock - tick - tock i dare to peek around; to open my eyes surrounded at my side my family stands my mother two seats away commands her mere presence & everyone else: warmth thankful to welcome another year with them!
X - tick - tock - tick - tock wait, i need to be more specific i will read some more, travel some more, dance some more, sing some more, do more! this is more than one resolution per grape but this year calls for evermore!
IV - tick - tock - tick - tock to accept the fact that this time is here when there were moments of nothingness i have to accept - yes - we are here nonetheless like this grape... the smoothness may this year be filled with everything smooth!
XI - tick - tock - tick - tock ah, time is running out! all i really want is this year to go well! so i am saying, 2020, farewell! you have been all kinds of things this year i, too, will be all kinds of things!
V - tick - tock - tick - tock or even if it is not, oh well! if i survived 2020 surely life will go on aplenty! so this grape i eat! a year lived is still a year lived!
XII
to the new year!
VI - tick - tock - tick - tock at the halfway mark of the minute time is running out to make my resolutions yet as i eat these grapes, i choose revolutions because if there is anything i have learned i do not have to have a new year new me! VII - tick - tock - tick - tock with no resolution’s list made the day before does this mean i have no more left to give? no, that is not true, i have to live i have to see more clouds and more leaves there are after all 364 days left in the year!
THE BELL VOL. VIII, ISSUE 9
photo by atithi patel
WITH EVERY LAUGH fourth year julia mun
Dear 할아버지, I think it has been six years since we’ve last spoken. And now that number will continue to age with me. I never knew quite what to say to you, during the times I could visit. Even now, in the wrong language, I still am at a loss for words. You were gone so suddenly. It was 2:00 PM on December 31st when we heard the news. What was I doing while we were oceans and hours apar t? It felt like the final rope had snapped, and my body was on the verge of drif ting away to sea. By standard definitions, we were not close. But I still cared photo by catherine campbell dearly for you, even if I did not say it. I felt guilty for feeling a sense of grief given what little was exchanged between us. This grief came quietly and unexpectedly, the same way you went. I tried to stop it from sinking into my bones as Mom went to Korea to say her final farewell to you, and I remained here in Georgia; but I could only resist for so much longer. I was scared to see what would happen if I opened myself to the full force of grief. Would I be swept away by the sheer force of it? But that was not what happened. Instead, I was warmed by the memories that bubbled to the sur face. I would open the door, your favorite Krispy Kreme doughnuts in hand, and sit in your living room, surrounded by pictures of our family. A few hours later, a feast would adorn your worn table and green chairs. Mom would chatter away, the static of the T V in the background. Sometimes my aunts would be there too, playing Go-Stop, and you would stamp out your cigarette, propping your leg up to eat and watch. I would sleep in a rickety bed that used to belong to my uncle during long weekends, knowing at least you were breathing in the room next door. That is how we existed. And now all I have lef t of you are these scattered impressions, and at times, I find it hard to accept that it is enough to have these. I stil l agonize that I have not only lost you, but also my final chance to make amends. It will constantly mark my life. But do you know what Mom told me the other day? She said I laugh the same way as you do, with a hand over my mouth and crinkling eyes. It gives me a little hope that you are never really gone. I star ted this letter to say goodbye to you, but instead I think it has allowed me to, in a way, mourn. I now realize, with my acceptance of grief, that you were, and always are, special to me. And it will remain that way, with ever y laugh. 해인
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BIG IDEAS
photo by atithi patel
fourth year jake forgay
I like to hold big ideas about myself. I like to think that I’m special; that I’m smarter than I actually am; that I’m more competent than I actually am; that I’m more physically fit, better looking and more entertaining and charming than I actually am; that I’m better than in some fundamental, dispositional kind of way. It feels good. There is something inflating about it that grants a token of worth or specialty to my existence and place in the world. But I am constantly reminded of the fact that actuality suggests otherwise. That same person who prides himself on his intellectual and athletic prowess is also the same person who can be caught scarfing down multiple boxes of sugary cereal (Cinnamon toast Crunch to be exact), binging Star Wars - The Clone Wars at two o’clock in the afternoon, procrastinating the hell out of some embarrassingly simple task; Someone who questions whether he is using the semicolon correctly while writing this sentence; Someone who secretly depends on auto-correct to provide the correct spelling of “narcissist” or any other word that no doubt a third grader would know. That same person who prides himself on his social charm or prestige is also someone who is socially anxious, insecure, and guarded; who stutters around attractive women and has difficulty making friends; Someone who compares himself to others’ accomplishments and talents, and feels inferior and inadequate as a result of it. But it feels good, that alpha quality; the upside of the ego. It’s intoxicating, stabilizing, satisfying, almost comforting. Yet there is something covertly sinister about it that often goes unnoticed. Not only does it justify feelings of entitlement, grandiosity and superiority, but it also creates a condition for feelings of fraudulence, inferiority, inadequacy, ineptness, depression, worthlessness, defensiveness, anger, and anxiety – some of the most potent forms of mental anguish. So is it worth it? Ego driven perfectionistic standards and expectations? Apparently so, I tell myself. But I find that, too often, I just spend so much mental energy fixated on some unmet standard to no avail. But the harsh reality is that more often than not, what we think of ourselves is not actually what we are, across both spectrums. We seem to magnify the positive and negative attributes of our personalities, when in fact, we lie somewhere in between. While we aren’t as good or perfect as we want or think to be, we aren’t as bad either. And knowing that is kind of comforting. Painful, yea, but also liberating, because it helps create the space and freedom to move forward without the emotional discomfort of not living up to some a priori expectation. We are too over and underrated.
HAPPAYY! MOND
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