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Thursday, August 10, 2017
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
OPINION
NISA KHAN
EDITOR IN CHIEF
SARAH KHAN
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITOR
DAYTON HARE
MANAGING EDITOR
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at
the University of Michigan since 1890.
Embracing solitude
ANGELA CHEN | COLUMN
MICHAEL
MORDARSKI
Short-term memory
R
ecently, on an early Monday
morning, I was sitting in a
crowded coffee shop sipping a
large cup of scalding anxiety stimulant
as I awaited an upcoming interview for
an internship. I was running on a restful
three hours of
sleep due to the
after effects of
spending
my
Saturday
night
enthusiastically
switching from bar to bar with old friends.
So, extremely anxious and lacking in sleep,
my progress of memorizing answers for
the interview ahead was interrupted by
some nostalgia.
Because in front of my table, a young
boy and his mother were waiting to order.
And just as I looked up, I caught what
was just a typical and casual moment
between them. He was being a kid,
curiously looking into the cooler near the
counter at the several treats and drinks
while holding onto the leg of his mother.
And she, while answering his innocent
questions, casually reached down and ran
her hand through his hair. He looked up
and smiled at her.
And then there I was, the anxious,
bloodshot-eyed, 21 year old in a suit,
staring at these two like a madman.
My mind, triggered from such a typical
interaction between mother and child,
had a nostalgia-fueled recollection of the
countless days I spent literally looking
up to my mother while enjoying the
innocence of childhood. And now here
I was, a young man in his brand new
suit, anxiously awaiting a prestigious
interview, nursing a large coffee to combat
his exhaustion from an exciting weekend
— only there because of the undying love
and effort from his two parents.
Because I often delude myself into
believing I am a partially self-made
“man.” That my intelligence, work ethic
and personality have been, and are being,
further enhanced and crafted by my
intervention solely. That obviously I am
extremely thankful for benefitting from
the massive investments and work my
parents did for me, such as the private
school education, excellent health care
and lessons in morality and manners —
but I fool myself into the thinking that my
more recent past, which has been greatly
controlled by me, has led me into my
promising future.
And all it takes is a kid who vaguely
looks like me to smile at his mother to
trigger the wave of memories I often
repress of the undying love my parents
demonstrated toward me. Not just the
big things, but more so, the thousands and
thousands of small interactions we had
that unfortunately I cannot remember.
These small expressions of love that
add up instilling a sense of worth and
character within a child that I as a self-
serving 21 year old cannot even begin to
grasp how much effort is required to do
so.
Former President Obama explained
this instilled love from the efforts of
parents best in “The Audacity of Hope.”
Writing about his daughter’s birthday
party he explained, “I wonder if Sasha
will remember that moment when she
is grown. Probably not; it seems as if I
can retrieve only the barest fragments
of memory from when I was five. But
I suspect that the happiness she felt on
that (day) registers permanently in her;
that such moments accumulate and
embed themselves in a child’s character,
becoming a part of their soul.”
And that is exactly what happened
with my parents and I. The countless
moments and expressions of love my
parents had toward a young me gave me
that sense of worth and confidence which
allow me to passionately pursue my
future. My qualities and work ethic come
from the fact that there were people in my
childhood who loved me unconditionally
and gave me some sense of worth. But
the enthusiasm I have of the future
often can blind me of that past. I’m full
of energy, excited about what lies ahead
and constantly preoccupied dreaming
about what could be in a way that only
an educated, adept and ignorant young
person can.
And my parents catch the collateral of
this. The young boy they raised, the one
who held their hand so tightly, crawled
into their bed when he had nightmares
and asked them thousands of innocent
questions about the world, is now so
focused on the present to determine his
future that his focus often blinds him
from the previous effort and love they put
into him. My short-term memory hurts
them.
I’m busy, preoccupied and always
excited for the next chapter. But now,
I’m not entering a new chapter, but a
completely new volume of life. One
that feels far more independent
and exciting but has changed the
relationship between me and my
parents. I now have adult problems,
problems like they have. Sometimes,
I forget how much I cherish those
thousands of hours that weren’t
particularly special or important,
just brief moments with the people
who loved me and raised me. And I
can take some comfort in knowing
that my ever-present nostalgia will
constantly remind me of that.
I’m sorry I’m getting older, mom and
dad, I can’t help it. I’m busy thinking I can
change the world.
— Michael Mordarski can be
reached at mmordars@umich.edu.
A
s popular culture suggests,
adolescence is a time that
social lives are expected of us.
With the rise of smartphones and social
media, the daily flood of Snapchat
stories and Instagram pictures imply
more than ever that the best of times
are had in groups — whether it be
friends, families or even strangers.
The social taboo against being
alone is understood since an early age.
Those who are seen alone are labeled
laughable and perceived as having
neither friends nor something better to
do (enter “when all two of your friends
are busy” meme).
In high school, I was very much
alone in this sense. As the result of a
severe case of strict parents, I spent
90 percent of my free time isolated in
my bedroom, my social life confined
entirely to iMessage and Facebook
messenger.
But in college, things are different.
As I met more people and made more
friends throughout my first year, I
found myself increasingly accustomed
to being with others in every area
of my life — whether it be attending
lecture, eating, studying or doing the
bare minimum on a Sunday afternoon.
Essentially, there is nothing stopping
any of us from spending every waking
(and non-waking) hour with company.
We’re surrounded by people of the
same age, walking in the same shoes
and carrying the same social burdens.
There’s really no excuse to be alone.
Thus, the social dynamic of this
summer came as a shock to me. With
the whole campus on a hiatus from
its usual bustling energy and only
a few select friends remaining on
campus, there were no more classes
to study for together, no student
activities to summon a crowd, no
dining hall to serve as a convenient
meetup site. Many days, I had no
choice but to be alone.
As summer went on, I became
suddenly very aware of my lack of plans
after work and on weekends, which
both discomforted and disheartened
me. While I was thankful for the time
to relax from the chaos of the school
year, I was unaccustomed to excessive
free time and saw my lack of plans as
a personal setback. As I lie in bed for
hours on end watching “Friends” at
an inconceivably rapid rate, I couldn’t
help feeling sorry for myself. Every
Snapchat story seemed to be an implicit
jab at my own seclusion, the negative
connotation of solitude manifesting
itself as if on demand.
Amid it all, I was forgetting that
solitude itself is harmless. Sick of
meaningless self-pity, I finally asked
myself: in a world without social
expectations and stereotypes, what’s
wrong with being alone? If there was no
social media, no way of comparing my
own life to others, would my solitude
still seem so strange, so unacceptable?
Absolutely not, I thought. There is
nothing wrong with being alone.
Of course, this is not to say that
we should avoid social interaction
altogether. While it’s always healthy
to spend time with others, quality time
alone should never be underrated.
Remember, there are two ways of
being alone. The first is loneliness; my
high-school self is a good example.
I was averse to company, actively
withdrawing from social situations due
to personal insecurities and strained
relationships.
It
was
completely
unhealthy and a problem I’m happy to
leave in the past.
The second is solitude, a wholesome
state of aloneness marked by peacefulness,
privacy and comfort with oneself. And
only when I learned to accept solitude was
I able to recognize its value.
In a sense, solitude requires self-
confidence to enjoy; when notions of
social incompetence and superficial
perceptions are abandoned, it is in fact
an essential component to a healthy
social life.
Realizing this, I finally crawled out
of bed and stopped scrolling through
the endless internet feeds, using my
time alone to catch up on personal
activities that I’m unable to do in the
presence of other people (and no, I do
not mean Netflix!). As I reconnected
with my violin skills, sang old songs at
the top of my lungs, immersed myself
in adult coloring books and wrote my
first poetry in months, my free time
effortlessly flew by. Strangely, I felt
tangibly in touch with my whole self,
but I couldn’t have done it had I not
been alone.
Of course, I will always welcome a
good day spent with friends and will
surely continue to make new ones this
fall. However, I’ve learned to embrace
solitude, knowing that no plans should
be made solely to escape being alone
— to do so would be to escape the only
person with which I would spend my
entire life.
From time to time, we all need
to wind down and appreciate some
quality time with ourselves. Don’t
worry, the silence won’t be awkward.
— Angela Chen can be reached
at angchen@umich.edu.
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Summer Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
Solitude requires
self-confidence to
enjoy