Daisy Chain
On March 7, 1985, “We Are the World” was played on the radio for the first time. The song by Lionel Richie and Michael Jackson was performed by 45 pop stars of the day. The single sold 800,000 copies that weekend, hit the top of the pop charts, and went on to win Grammys for best song, best record, and best pop performance by a duo or group. The entire effort generated over $50 million for African famine victims.
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Apocalyptic Visions, Pre- and Post-
Even I can be surprised, amazed, and even terrified by the many sudden twists and unexpected swirls that characterize the future. While meditating upon the questions submitted this week, I rose in my visions to greater heights than ever before; and from this exalted vantage, I witnessed human history as an endless cycle of destruction and regeneration. Could it be? Has civilization arisen an infinite number of times already, only to fall and lie dormant, awaiting reconstruction? And will this process repeat itself, on and on into eternity? Could the history of humankind as we know it represent only a single, minuscule portion of one massive, statically revolving wheel? This week’s featured questions address a couple of apocalypses that will punctuate the future cycles of history:
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Am I having an identity crisis?
If any of my college friends were to travel back in time and watch my high school self, they might have a hard time recognizing the terribly quiet and somewhat antisocial presence they would encounter. But if any of these Grinnellians told the 17-year-old Emily that she would one day actually manage to enjoy a basketball game, she would have no problem overcoming her shyness long enough to state with absolute and utter confidence the complete insanity of that notion. “You say you’re from Iowa?” I can hear her exclaim skeptically. “You sure you aren’t from some Twilight Zone universe?” Then she would go off to read The Catcher in the Rye and rant to herself about the phoniness of high school life.
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An alternative to thought
\Usually around this time of year I bring you a column that will help you deal with the stress of hell week or pass your midsem exams or battle that deadly virus that has taken advantage of your deteriorating body. This year, however, I’m not so much worried about my papers and exams—I am a second-semester senior. My priorities are different. No, that’s not true, I still care about academics, it’s just that my priorities are usually fogged up and confused by all the drinking. Sometimes the fear of the future paralyzes me. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by the thought of not having a meal plan come May. And sometimes, when I’m walking down the sidewalk, I have no idea where I’m going. I’ll be walking and have to stop and ask myself what I’m doing and sometimes I don’t know the answer, and I turn around, but then when I’m half way home I’ll remember again.
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