Page 1

ION AT IC

A PO SIT

PRESS PU Y T BL I IV

THE BELL

CREATIVE CONTENT TO BRIGHTEN YOUR MONDAY! book-club because she realized at

space of youth and growth I can be

age for ty-five, she’s never made any

expected to show up to my job and be a

real friends, but she wanted to tr y.

professional yet still indulge in the joys

Two, I pay my own bills, yet my dad

of downtown bar marathons, wearing

said I’m not “allowed” to get another

fuzzy socks as normal socks, and late

tattoo

without

his

“permission”.

night netflix binging on a regular basis

Three,

when

was

in

without

I

the

fif th

judgement.

Who

decides

grade, my parents could no longer

when I become a “real” adult, and is

help me with my math homework.

the criteria based on wisdom or age?

Conclusion: Adulthood is a myth.

When I was in elementar y school,

Since I’ve been in college, I have

I thought ever yone over age eighteen

been deemed a “young adult,” which

had “made it.” I dreamed throughout

is what people over age thir ty-five

my teenage years of the independence

like to call anyone who files their own

that would come with graduation: no

taxes, but still buys store-brand toilet

more

paper for poor, not thrif ty, reasons.

and I would suddenly be hip to

This oxymoron is what gives my mom

the knowledge necessar y for adult

the ability to chastise me about the

life. However, now that I can see

Three obser vations: one, I heard that

cleanliness of the apar tment I pay for

that

my best friend’s mom was joining a

and discuss tax season in the same

“real” adults are still searching for

wo m e n’s - a d ul t- p a r a n o r mal - f a nt a s y -

phone call. It is also in this liminal

answers themselves, I think I’m okay.

VOL. X ISSUE 9 MAR 4TH, 2019

WE’RE ALL JUST MAKING IT UP fourth year myah paden

photo by stokes dunavan

THE BELL VOL. X, ISSUE 9

chores,

my

abounding

parents

and

freedom,

their

fellow

photo by stokes dunavan


THE BOX third year hana rehman You’re not having such a great day. It’s one of those days in which you feel trapped inside a box, and the world inside the box is out to get you. Rationally you know you will eventually break out and things will reveal themselves to be better

than

they

seem,

but the walls of the box

photo by noah buchanan

are opaque and it’s hard to

remember

kinder

world

there’s

a

outside.

And then you pass a

stranger,

smiling

at

a phone or a book or another person’s joke. The smile tugs at their entire face, lighting up their eyes and pinching their nose in a ridiculous, jubilant, beautiful

expression.

You stare a moment, transfixed, and then realize after you’ve passed the stranger by that the smile was contagious, and now it’s on you. Suddenly, if only for a moment, the box seems surmountable. Or

transparent. Or simply not as impor tant as you thought. There’s something so warm about witnessing a

RUSH

fourth year dhanur sapolia

stranger’s moment of joy, or laughter, or triumph. Someone around you is experiencing

something

wonder ful. You may not know

them,

and

they

may not know it, but they share a glimpse of it with you. They remind you that happiness

bounds

from

places of random chance, that you’re not isolated and untouchable—that

you’re

not really inside a box at all.

phrases, something you say just to pass the time. I have hobbies, but I’m not really good at any of them. I’ve always wondered what it

T here I was, a million things going on in my head, all these voices in my head, but I was silent. I felt like a halfperson, a shadow. I have a hard time acting on my thoughts. I have great ideas, but that’s pretty much all they remain. Abstract, unreal, unimpor tant. I am a hard worker, or at least that’s what I’ve told myself all these years. I think it’s one of those empty

would be like to be an exper t at something. What must it feel like to do something so well that the task just feels like an extension of your own body? I bet those people are

happy,

maybe

that’s

how I can be happy too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not depressed. I’ve have days where I feel on top of the world and others where I feel the opposite of that metaphor, but most days I’m okay. But that can’t be all there is. There has to be some type of journey that leads me to being happy all of the time! I mean if not, what’s the point of all of this? Why would I, or anyone, do anything? Why do people climb mountains? Why

do

people

run

marathons? Why to people jump out of planes? They must be chasing something that makes them feel truly alive. I bet those people

photo by daniyal tahir

are

happy,

maybe

that’s

how I can be happy, too.

THE CHAPEL BELL: A POSITIVE PRESS PUBLICATION


photo by melody modarressi

LIFE AT RANDOM vastly different my life been,

all

from the randomness of my bir th—the luck of it, really. Stories from my parents, ones I’ve only heard slight variations of from

other

been my own— a reality

age, forced to defend

generation

Sometimes I think how have

water.

Men,

I was but a

fourth year paria fakhrai

could

life that could have easily

immigrants

from other places, tell of a life far removed from one you or I could ever know. Lives of war or struggle, lives tainted by far less oppor tunity. Stories of a

“...the truth of the matter is we are incredibly fortuitous.”

hardly

of

fight

the

for—but

good the

fight bigger

countries

picture is, at the least,

that

we

do

have

chance

not defend

and

t h e m .

to fight them. We may

The

thing

disagree on our views,

the

we may say the grass

randomness

looks greener on some

of

is

other side, but the truth

many

of the matter is we are

only

have a likelier chance

incredibly for tuitous. We

imagine. Somewhere on

than not of living a life

are showered with the

this Ear th, today, there are

that

possibilities of endless

little girls daydreaming

for the stars, because

oppor tunities.

of

the

waste that potential for

away

from

knowing. Drawn

at

a

complete r a n d o m , we’ve

all

been

given

a

many

life

an

can

education

they

can

about life

so

never

reach

oppor tunities

greatness.

Don’t Especially

nonexistent.

women walking in the

have our own struggles

when

deser t heat for miles on

as

somewhere else, would

end for a gallon of clean

we

THE BELL VOL. XI , ISSUE 8

may

oppor tunity

will not get. There are

a

We

are

the

the

nation—struggles

must

continue

to

someone

else,

never take it for granted.


LIVING MY BEST LIFE

other moments, the ones that may make for the

second year jennings brooks I’m not living my best life. My life is fine - I mean,

it’s

normal

most

viewed

stories,

are

Snapchat really

just

that

will

experiences

pass us by like the rest. But

and

the

special

suitable for me. I may

memories, those are the

not be bundled up by a

moments that tend to slip

crackling fire of old logs

right past us even before

set in some five-star ski

we realize we had missed

and spa resor t with an

them.

alpaca

a

fur

cap

resting

It’s

favorite

listening

to

playlist

on

atop my per fectly blown-

the bus ride home. It’s

out hair, but I am pursuing

receiving an unexpected

the ever y day dream and

hug. It’s reading on Nor th

honor of living my life.

Campus in a rare patch of

I’m waking

finding up

winter

sunshine.

These

a

are the minutes we are

routine:

meant to live, breathing

school,

them into our ver y being

daily

monotonous working

myself

on

to

working out, working on

with

growing, living presently

of

the each

intentionality lung

we

fill.

and loving fully. These

These are the days

moments may not make

when I live my best life. My

me

famous,

life doesn’t wear me like

but they make me real.

an expensive overcoat, to

They make me someone

be flaunted and admired;

of substance - someone

I wear it. Each moment

who

struggles

in

the

is a patch I sew by hand

slow

moments,

in

the

onto my eclectic denim

process,

and

jacket of life experience.

blindly

It’s unique, it’s special,

until

and it’s mine. These are

the next big Instagram-

the monastic moments,

able

the

Instagram

times

of

someone

who

blunders

around life

moment.

No one is exempt from

hardly

photo by daniyal tahir

THIS ISSUE’S SPONSOR:

exceptional

experiences, that make

the human experience of

me

human.

life; instead our day to

the moments in which

day lives are the days we

I

truly end up living. These

living

feel

These

most my

HAPPY MONDAY EDITED BY KEVIN SCHOENBLUM

are

fulfilled,

best

life.

@THECHAPELBELLUGA THE CHAPEL BELL

PLEASE RECYCLE OR GIVE THIS ISSUE TO A FRIEND!

THECHAPELBELL.COM

THE CHAPEL BELL: A POSITIVE PRESS PUBLICATION

Profile for The Chapel Bell

Issue 9  

Issue 9  

Advertisement