By: Willem Kline
I woke up on Valentine’s Day morning experiencing a lot of things. Lack of sleep was thankfully not the first thing I experienced, but I did think about the idea of a holiday in general. To me, Valentine’s Day is honestly like any other day, except this one tends to have a name with it. Of course, one could probably say the same about any other holiday in existence, and I wouldn’t argue with you because for the most part I would say you’re right.
When I got ready for the day ahead of me I thought about all the things I had to do within the right amount of time: I had to eat lunch, read my assigned chapters in my textbook, go to work and finish painting a piece of set for a play we were working on, go to class, go to rehearsal, and finally end up back at home. I thought, “Hey, that’s a normal day.” But a day is never really normal, is it?
I only got to spend a short amount of time with my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, the supposed day of love. My work became a monotonous task that infuriated me to the point of shouting an F-bomb in the middle of the Icebox theater. I sprinted to class because I was late from having to clean up from work. I went to rehearsal for a percussion piece that I didn’t know the first clue how to play. And then I came home and sat down, stressed, frustrated, and near to the boiling point from everything piling up and overloading all in one particular holiday. It seemed like the world was going to Hell in a handbasket all around me. But when I got to rehearsal I just started emoting. I started screaming, and writhing, and twisting, and pulling at everything that was inside of me and it all just sort of fell out. I didn’t care what was happening at all, in any point of time. Hell, I didn’t even care about the fact I busted my eye open on a plywood board. In that moment, there was a person on that floor that was fed up with something, but too damn alive to care about the fact that he was fed up. That’s a beautiful thing when it comes down to it.
Your madness is a thing that can build up to an astronomical amount. People tend to either let it go till it boils over, or they do something about it. I’m not a relatively healthy person in the mental department, and you can’t necessarily consider anyone to be with the current world climate. People are going mad left and right, and sometimes the best thing you got is what’s in front of you. So my best advice is just scream, scream at the top of your lungs. In fact, I want you to scream so loud that someone from another classroom questions if you’re doing alright. When you tell them what’s the matter, I want you to scream again. Scream at your art. Scream at your homework. Scream at each other! Scream at the world around you until the world asks you to quiet down. After all of that is said and done, I want you to wake up the next morning and think to yourself, “Man, I can’t wait to scream again today.”
The best part about being alive is feeling alive, so feel your heart out, wanderer.
Willem Kline, from Belvidere, Illinois is a sophomore here at Illinois College, pursuing a double major in English and Theatre with a Communication and Rhetorical Studies minor. Willem is the current Editor in Chief of The Rambler, Co-Captain of the short form improv troupe on campus, and an avid pursuer and connoisseur of anything artsy-fartsy.