Oh, how the turns have tabled. I, Emiko Essmiller, the glorious (and insecure) senior, return to Tiger for my final year, with my own little column in the newspaper. I like to consider myself an extremely modest person, of course. I’ve wanted a column since my freshman year, and although I had frequent daydreams of seeing my column in print, and random shower thoughts of genius ideas to write about, I suddenly find myself at a loss for words. Not because I am stunned, but because I truly feel like I have nothing to write about anymore. I’m suddenly the most boring person on earth.
Thus, I’ve decided that I’d like to spend my first column talking about other people. Specifically, Holden Caufield (ew), and my friends (yay!). Holden Caufield — the 16-year-old protagonist of Catcher in the Rye, an AP Lit summer reading requirement this year — absolutely infuriated me. I was a breath away from ripping the pages out of my copy. “He’s in his teen rebellious era!” “He’s just trying to find a place where he belongs!” “He’s a virgin … but not because he wants to be, he just respects women’s consent. He could have anyone, in any way he wanted, if he so chose.” Yeah, right. At best, he’s a representation of a considerably unstable, mentally ill, idiotic teen that has fallen into the pitfalls of toxic masculinity and arrogance. He’s a virgin for a reason, I fear, and it’s most definitely not voluntary. Despite his opinions on the superficiality of people, I have never seen any interaction I’ve had with someone as superficial. Everyone means something to me. (To summarize, I’m a much better person than Holden).
In contrast, my friends are absolutely wonderful people. To clarify, I am in no way comparing them to Holden either — that would be like comparing an angel to a pebble. One option includes saviors that I basically pray to everyday, and another is a man. Point proven. As far as the saviors go, I went to watch a sing-a-long version of KPop Demon Hunters with them the other day. You better believe we were cooking with that Golden riff. Looking back and forth at my friends, chanting out lines, and harmonizing with Rumi on screen, I was yet again at a loss of words. This time, it was because I was stunned. Middle school Emi, who struggled to find friends and was afraid to raise her hand in class, would’ve been horrified to see me singing the lyrics to What it Sounds Like by Huntrix (“We broke into a million pieces and we can’t go back, but now I’m seeing all the beauty in the broken glass”) in the middle of a movie theater surrounded by the side-eyes of many young kids. But in the moment, I felt absolutely no shame. I was simply struck with a deep-rooted appreciation of my friends. Holden Caulfield could never.
To the few people that read TigerNewspaper, and the even fewer that are reading my column, I appreciate you. I hope that you can relate to something I’ve said, whether it’s harboring a vehement hatred for Holden Caufield, or singing along to Golden from KPop Demon Hunters, or having a passionate appreciation and love for your friends. Even though I may be boring, my friends aren’t. At the very least, they give me something to write about, and at best, they give me a reason to live. I dedicate my very first Tiger column to my friends, and to a public hate campaign for Holden Caulfield.