The Sound of Solitude (or Lack Thereof)

Before I begin divulging the thoughts that first led me to scribble up another entry, let me update my readers (the ones I like to hope are out there) on the notable events of the past week or two:

Many of my friends have recently begun complaining about having to cram for midterms, so I'm going to assume that my first semester of college is about halfway through. My best friend has either finished her first semester of nursing school, or is damn near to finishing it-she's in an accelerated program. The weather has grown cold, and the clouds have been crying a lot lately. I empathize with them in the wake of fall's quick farewell. The forecast is predicting one to three inches of snow tonight, and while that's not much for an Erie native, it's enough to dampen the mood.
Last weekend, my "fiance" visited. I say "fiance" in quotes because our "engagement" is one with a promise ring. There is a lot of distance between our physical beings, but none between our hearts. Regardless, seeing each other has become a scarcity and a bit of a chore. Before last weekend, I hadn't seen him in three weeks, and as anyone can imagine, the difference can arouse strong emotions. We graduated from the same high school this past spring, and unfortunately had to separate for college, but he wanted to get a ring on my finger before "those college boys" had a chance to get any ideas. Nothing formal has been announced, since we don't think his family would take us seriously at all, but we do eventually plan to enter some sort of marital pact together eventually.
I've rambled on that for far too long.
While mon petit chou was in town, I took him out on a local dam in the kayak for his first ever paddling lesson. He did very well, and we enjoyed the completely silent scenery together. We also cooked a few meals together, watched a couple of movies, and visited my campus. It was a lovely weekend overall.
Over the past week, I've been learning the value of time management, and I've been nipping a lot of "to-dos" in the bud. I caught up on a lot of work that isn't due yet-but it never hurts to turn things in early. I also had my major planning session, which was partially productive and partially a waste of my time. The "mentor" I met with appeared to be nothing much more than a washed-up upperclassman who couldn't care less about what I knew or didn't about the courses I needed to take. So I tracked down my advisor for my major and scheduled an appointment with him to fill in the enormous caverns left by my nincompoop "mentor". More to come on that at a later date.
I've also been itching to attend some sporting events of some kind, so this week, I'll be making an effort to see what's going on on campus.

Now, on to the meat and potatoes of "The Sound of Solitude (or Lack Thereof)":

As any college student will, I've been reading some passages and essay fragments for my comp class, which seems to be solely comprised of being told what to read, leaving for a day, coming back, writing an essay on the closing paragraph, and leaving again. Very lame. I wondered aloud to a neighbor today what exactly I pay for as a student, but I digress.
One of the passages I read this morning was one regarding supersaturation-the desensitization of the general modern population to the constant barrage of media and sensory stimulation. The article was justfully entitled, "Supersaturation, or, The Media Torrent and Disposable Feeling" by Todd Gitlin. In a short preface, the article notes that Mr. Gitlin obtained his B.A. in mathematics from Harvard, his M.A. in poly sci at the University of Michigan, and his Ph. D. in sociology from Berkeley. The preface also tells the unconcerned reader that Mr. Gitlin is a member of the Greepeace board of directors, highly published, a Vietnam War protestor, a professor...what it doesn't mention is that the man is a windbag.
When I say, though, that he is a windbag, I don't mean that the article is bad. I just mean that it's far too wordy. However, I swam through his sea of poetic BS and came back up with a pearl. The gist of the excerpt is that we as human beings are spending more time than ever (six hours and thirty-two minutes per day for the average child) in front of the television, listening to recorded music, lazing on the internet, etc. At the end, Gitlin features a call to action, stating that "who we are is how we live our time...We vote for a way of life with our time. And increasingly...we are in the media torrent...more inhabitants of the wealthy part of the world have the means, incentives, and opportunities to seek private electronic companionship. The more money we have to spend, the more personal space each...[person] gets. With personal space comes solitude, and the solitude is instantly crowded with images and soundtracks...life experience has become an experience in the presence of media." Extremely true.
I often find myself growing tired of the constant noise pollution of American culture. I can only imagine how other cultures must feel because, sadly, Gitlin mentions that Japanese children spend more time in front of the boob tube than American children. The land of the samurai..converted to Vanity Fair.

What this has to do with solitude is that I feel aloneness (if that's a word) is important to concentration, centration, and the healing of the soul. No one ever gets to be truly alone these days, and it's becoming evident to me that this is the reason many of my classmates are failing. Lack of solitude, I feel, is also responsible for many of the stresses in the lives of my more adult friends and family. One can only multitask for so long.
I have always been a vehement fan of sitting alone to think, which, as anyone can imagine, has been the butt of many jokes in my social lifetime. What students aren't getting, though, is that the more we assault our majestic brains with meaningless garble, the less useful and enriching information we can take in. By studying with our ipods in our ears, while browsing myspace or facebook, or doing whatever else we do while we study, we're imprisoning ourselves within the confines of lives not fully lived. We truly have become the generation of surrogates-surrogate lives. These media-trampled, wasted existences have sapped our wings and forced us to become lazy, unhealthy, obese, sloppy, pale-skinned, delicate-eyed wimps.

So I'm going to begin a list. In this list, I will compile every lesson I have learned in college.

Item #1: Live life. Don't be a slave to mass media. Get some fresh air. Enjoy nature. Be alone. Pray, reflect, observe.