A couple of weeks ago, Orhan Pamuk, winner of the 2006 Nobel Prize for literature, spoke at Dartmouth. He talked about the landscapes of cities and the emotions they convey, about Turkish melancholy and the "nobility of failure," about painting, his daughter and about writing and what that entails. He read short passages from his collection of internationally acclaimed books and short stories. But overall, the talk focused more on why he writes than on what he has written. Most importantly, the talk was about the irresponsibility of childhood freedom.
I'm sure Pamuk, when he talked about the irresponsibility of youth, wasn't thinking about Dartmouth or its students. He wasn't thinking about frats and sororities or about drinking and hanging out. In all likelihood, he was just talking about writing and the freedom one needs to be creative -- about being an author and what it takes to write honestly, without letting the idea of your reader warp the image or emotion you have in your mind. Maybe after my three years here, I've become a little bit too caught up in this place or maybe I just have a habit of understanding things in terms of my surroundings -- but to me, the irresponsibility of youth is as relevant to writing as it is to Dartmouth.
Growing up, I lived in Bangkok. To say the least, it's a strange city. It's exciting and full of life, but soulless in many ways. It's a city that runs on tourism, shopping and prostitution and a place where people smile when they're mad. But despite the sleaze, the call girls, the superficiality (at times) and the 300-pound German tourists manically searching for pirated DVDs, I loved living in Bangkok. There was a certain freedom about living in a foreign city where people didn't expect anything from me. I could talk on the subway without worrying about what people thought; I could roll into a nice mall on Saturday morning looking disheveled after a late night out; I could make offhand, lighthearted comments to serious Thai mothers, and no one was offended or judgmental. Everyone sort of laughed it off and thought to themselves, "Ah, those crazy white people, they just do things differently."
I don't know what it was about Dartmouth, but everything changed when I got here my freshman year. If my life in Bangkok was marked by a youthful irresponsibility, then you might say I was 80 years old, limp like a rope and hard of hearing by my second week of college. I'm sure it was a combination of a lot of things: of being one of the youngest people on campus, of never having lived in America, of realizing that everyone understood every word I said and that everyone around me was there to stay. Regardless, Dartmouth was suffocating.
Honestly, Dartmouth still is suffocating. How many times a day do you have to choose between a stop-and-chat and a passing hello? How are you meant to be youthful and irresponsible when, just as you get past one awkward acquaintance, you get hit, smack in the face, with another one? It's like running the gauntlet.
The worst is Food Court. Conversations move through Food Court like ripples in a pond. I've seen it. One table starts off, "Did you go to that awesome party at the Black-Mandala?" Then the table to the right chimes in, "Where's the Black-Mandala? Is that off-campus?" It's like watching dominoes fall. I'm not sure if everyone is listening to everyone else or if people subconsciously pick up the threads of other conversations, but it's terrifying. Until recently, I would never have had a carefree conversation in Food Court.
Over the past three years it's been funny to see how we compensate for the loss of childish irresponsibility at Dartmouth. Essentially, we try to preserve it by institutionalizing it. We build giant ice sculptures in the middle of the Green; we burn two-story bonfires and run around in circles, and we join frats and sororities where we drink, play pong and fornicate when we're lucky. But none of it is really carefree. It pretends to be, but doesn't succeed. We manage to retain the irresponsibility part but never the youthfulness.
The thing we seem to forget is that irresponsibility isn't youthful unless it's sincere. We can't be irresponsible for a specific reason; it shouldn't be a reaction to the administration or a response to popular cultural demands. In short, it shouldn't be a conscious demonstration of any sort. We should be irresponsible and carefree because we've chosen our close friends and it doesn't really matter what anyone else thinks. We should live our lives with a respectful disregard for the reader.
