Politics and History.

 I just realized why I don't want to be a politics major, although politics are something i'm extremely interested in. I don't want to study them solely because people who study politics are just that, good at politics. Politicians shouldn't be political, they should especially in a democratic society, be the voice of the people. People don't want political backstabbing or personal interests, they want the politician to be their voice in the world most don't want to deal with. Studying politics and the ins and outs of how to be a politician is something that I feel leads almost directly to the corrupt higher ups we hear about today.

I want to study History, why? because History shows us what went wrong, and what went right. It gives us the tools to better ourself as a society. History is a warning to the future. To me at least, History is the most important subject that could be taught, it gives up something more than just the mechanics of Math, then the explanations of Science, and the eloquence of English. History gives us insight to every single event that is happening in the world. It's the subject of someone of those who want to help the world.

Meeting People.

i'm great at first glance, but deep down, I have hidden emotions set in place to keep you away.

"everything and everyone but you"

in a twist of events, I don't really care to see you again.

Competition.

It is sad to see someone lose even if the person you want to win, wins. Or maybe I'm just to empathetic to compete.

for anyone who wants to listen!

http://soundcloud.com/kevin-kelley

You Bring The Mic; I'll Bring The Mosh Pit.

my first college paper! it's a personal narrative, if you couldn't figure that out.

Kevin Kelley

Ms. Kramer

9/12/11

                                    You Bring The Mic; I’ll Bring The Mosh Pit

            The first chord strikes down like thunder, immediately bodies begin to swarm around me like moths to a flame. Overwhelmed by the intensity of the crowd I couldn’t stand my ground even for an instant. I reached out for my best friend Kyle as the sea of people engulfed him. I was alone among the many.

            The clock turns back several hours in my head. I was sitting in a practically deserted train with only Kyle as my company. This marked the first time we were ever left to fend for ourselves in the great city of Boston. It was certainly a giant step for two teenage boys.  We were excited beyond belief, this was our first time going to big rock concert, and we were able to enjoy it all by ourselves.

The resonance of the final chord in the song rings as I snap back into the crowd. The magnitude of what I was witnessing was unbelievable, hundreds of people in a chaotic motion that seemed to be not unlike the motions of a school of fish. The energy was enthralling; it was sublime, like a thousand pins and needles making me feel alive. Shoved to the side, I lost all sense of my poetic self. I fell into the chaotic routine that is a mosh pit, the constant act of pushing against every moving object that comes near you. I loved the freeing feeling, I felt alive, but it was without control, like I was the disembodied consciousness of myself.

Song after song I began to fall into the motions, it was like nothing else was happening in the world. I began to fell nonexistent, like the only things real in the world was the music, I was just one of the faceless people in the crowd, lost within ourselves. I tried to think of Kyle, also lost within the sea of people, I looked around to see if I could find him, to no avail. It was like he never truly existed at all.

Kyle seemed like a figment of my imagination, like I just created him as an excuse to exist beyond the constant motion of the mosh pit. In some ways, he was my only lifeline to reality, in other ways; he was the only thing keeping me from letting go of it. Just as I was going through what was probably the biggest existential crisis of my entire life, Anthony Raneri, the lead singer of the band we came to see chimes in between songs with a piece of advice, “I hope you all brought a buddy today to look after you! Do you still have your buddy?” It was like he was talking directly to me, and all I could manage was to whimper a small “no”. The profoundness of his statement hit me as my adolescent mind began to panic in search of my best friend. I began to shove my way through the crowd looking to and fro for any trace of Kyle, and that’s when I saw him, with his hipster styled sunglasses, self designed white T-shirt, and a look in his eyes that made him look more lost than a needle in a haystack.

“Kyle!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping to be louder than music, a task that I soon realized was futile. Not ready to give up just yet, I started to fight against the crowd. Pushing against the faceless many with all my energy used up in the act of moshing. I was surviving with only my willpower to reach Kyle, my only lifeline, and my best friend.

The concert was nearly over by the time Kyle was in my reach, he notices me just as I begin to get close. It was a relief for me to finally reunite with my best friend and he seemed to share the same sentiment. Together at last we began to celebrate the ending of what was one of the most eventful and exciting days of our lives. From the last song to the encore I had my best friend with me and that’s all I really needed to have a great time. I guess, you could say that I learned what best friend really means to me.

Best Friends.

I feel sick as my heart gives out.
I don't want it to be this way.
Best friends use to mean so much more.