Here in middle-of-nowhere Hanover, New Hampshire, the glamour and glitz of Hollywood feels a country away. We go about our days relatively quietly, unbothered by big city life and instead accosted by winds that seem to harass everyone who dares to go outside. While the scenic landscape of mountains and forests surrounds us at all times, we are far from living in a movie. But that doesn't mean that we aren't actors.
Our lives don't follow scripts: We don't have sets or directors or production managers instructing us to do this or do that, go here or go there. But I sometimes wonder what our lives would look like as a movie. There's no narcissism involved, no assumption that our normal activities here at Dartmouth constitute material interesting enough to engage any kind of audience. Yet, I have to ask myself: If we were to look back across our lives thus far as strangers, what would we think of ourselves? Would we be strangers to the people in our lives, and more importantly, would we be strangers to ourselves? In humdrum college life, it feels frightfully easy to forget that we exist outside of schedules and planners, and as a result, we begin to disconnect. So maybe we are, in effect, actors following stage directions and taking cues.
It seems that with our busy schedules at Dartmouth, we treat others almost as commodities. There's almost a sense of desensitization to the human aspect of our interpersonal relationships, and we justify this by saying, "I'm busy." Through fulfilling individual niches in the grand scheme, we are aware of each other's presences. As characters, people become representations of something larger than themselves, but not greater. And in our constant, fast-moving lives, we run the risk of allowing those who do not fit within our spheres of the world to fall by the wayside. The necessity of companionship at Dartmouth has dwindled as the terms have worn on, and it seems that people stop making time for other people.
At a school as small as ours, relationships are key to building community. The small size of our student body often attracts students who couldn't imagine going to a school where days could pass without seeing a familiar face. Here, it's difficult to walk into a dining facility without running into five familiar people. But the frequency of these brief encounters actually diminishes the value we place on more meaningful interactions. Seeing someone does not replace a conversation, and friendships can hardly be built on a wave and a hello.
And herein lies the problem. As we go about our daily activities, do we wonder what others say about us? Do we define ourselves by the organizations with which we are involved, convincing ourselves that they "fit" what we want to do and who we want to be? And most importantly, are our friends merely accessories, or are we making real, concerted efforts to be present in one another's lives? If we are defined by anything other than ourselves, then we're nothing more than actors in a movie that we can't even call our own. Although we may claim the contrary, we do have time. The things we care about don't just fit into the general rhythm of things: At times, we must compromise and coordinate. Why not do the same with people? Certainly, there is nothing wrong with having acquaintances. We can't be best friends with everyone we meet, and we shouldn't be. But that being said, here at Dartmouth, we run the risk of losing the legitimacy of our relationships to an unintentional passivity. With only 10 weeks in a term, prioritizing becomes a nightmare, and we forget what is important.
As Dartmouth students, we are not here just to fill some empty space. We're here to make a difference. And the only way to do that is to make a difference to someone else. We cannot trap ourselves within roles and titles, seeking to fulfill responsibilities that we have not set forth for ourselves. Rather, we should be people together, and return to the simplicity of friendship that really does build the foundation of Dartmouth College.
