Justice for All

For the past week or so, I feel like all I've been doing is arguing. It's exhausting, really. But I would definitely be more exhausted if I didn't argue because I wouldn't be able to sleep soundly at night knowing I didn't defend what I believe to be right.

But the thing that angers me more than any of the bigots, religious zealots, and just plain ignorant people are those who claim the argument doesn't matter.

Of course it matters. Just because you aren't immediately affected by something doesn't mean it isn't worth worrying about. We are debating our state's Constitution; constitutions are documents by the people, of the people, for the people. We are the people, and it is our duty and obligation as citizens to have opinions and voice them about our government.

Further, if you cannot find it in yourself to care about somebody else, especially people who are being discriminated against, then you are exceedingly selfish. If you cannot care about people's rights being ripped away, about the pain and suffering of others, about grave injustices in the society you take part in, then there is no saving you. You are worse than those fighting on the immoral side because at least the opposition is taking a stand for what they believe. At least they have emotions.

Do not try to patronize me for passion. What is the point of living if you don't care about anything? Apathy is not cool; detachment is a mental illness, not a fad. Do not lay passively unless you agree with every single thing in your world. There is always something to be bettered, somebody that needs help.

I will argue until I can't argue anymore. I don't care if I'm defeated, if the amendment makes its disgusting way into our law. I will still fight it because I will still be right. Those who claim it doesn't matter are the truly wrong ones.

"We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented."
-Elie Wiesel

Heelprint

I love my college; I really do. I haven't regretted coming here for a single second. I still haven't tired of the ubiquitous blue, the unrelenting (and sometimes downright rude) school spirit, the vibrant community.

All the little concerns that keep college freshmen lying awake at night before they move to their universities disappear within days of arriving. The bathroom arrangement is fine; it's not hard to get along with your roommate; friends will come fairly easily if you smile and say hi; classes are difficult but not impossible; the food is pretty good; the campus layout will unfold itself to you in a few days.

But that is not to say college life is not without concerns. They're just new concerns. What was important in high school is replaced by something bigger, more pressing. There's always a pit in my stomach when I pass a flyer advertising some amazing opportunity and I keep walking. I know I can't do everything; that would be impossible and suicidal. But I have to wonder each and every time if I'm passing up my one great opportunity; maybe that was where I was going to meet my future employer, future passions, even future husband.

But that is ridiculous. I don't believe in fate. We make the happiness we seek. I have actively reached out to organizations I know I will love, and in turn will have an automatic connection with others involved. When I do my homework, I worry I'm not reaching insightful enough conclusions, like I need to force something that simply isn't there. Reach a higher plane. I'm always afraid I'm not stretching enough. Not challenging myself enough, not growing enough.

It's a weird feeling. Everything just seems higher stakes. When once a GPA got me into college, it now gets me a job. Before, most friendships (at least at a high level of intimacy) were only for the duration, now they have the potential for lifelong relationships. I have to make connections, make roots, make a mark. A "Heelprint."

But I know, just as I was freaking out the night before I moved here, that one day I will look back on this moment and tell myself that everything eventually was okay.