Hopkins is a high-pressure environment. Students are expected to perform at the highest academic level, participate in extracurriculars, contribute to their community and prepare for the rapidly approaching future. It is this last pressure on which this week's column will focus.
It is surprisingly common for Hopkins students to know (or think they know) exactly how their future should and will play out. Perhaps the goal is some obscure, specialized position at famed hospital X; the examples are endless. The Hopkins administration tacitly supports this type of thinking by not opposing it with messages in support of exploration and diversity. The summer job is an object of constant conversation, and just one of the weights crushing creativity and carefree expression on campus.
There are those of us who have quite literally no idea what the future holds. Some idea of interest and aim, sure, but an aimed-for path to a determined goal? No, in part out of admission to historical precedent and realistic percentages. This author is admittedly disillusioned with "society" and its "expectations," but the fact remains that standing open to all possible futures is healthy and relaxing.
We all have our heroes whom we seek to emulate in some or another way. The rest of this article will focus on one of mine: the author and cultural icon Hunter S. Thompson. Thompson's life, and the way he lived it, inspires and confirms my open approach to life, and it should be considered as a counterpoint to the rigid Hopkins mindset.
Thompson (1937-2005) grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, and had both literary and counter-culture inclinations from a young age. During high school, he belonged to the literary club and yearbook staff, but he was eventually arrested for riding in a stolen car and sentenced to two months in prison. The judge offered him a deal, prison or the military, and after one month in the slammer Thompson enlisted in the Air Force. It was during this time that he had his first professional writing experience as a sports writer for a military paper.
Three years into his service, he was honorably discharged. His Colonel wrote, "this airman, although talented, will not be guided by policy. . .sometimes his rebel and superior attitude seems to rub off on other[s]." Upon his release, Thompson dove back into the literary world. He skipped from place to place (Puerto Rico, New York City, Big Sur, Aspen, Rio de Janeiro) taking random jobs, many of which were journalistic in nature. He was an extreme personality and grew used to being fired.
In 1965, Thompson had his first real breakthrough with an article on California's Hells Angels biker gang. This article led to a well-received book, which in turn led to increased exposure of Thompson's work. In the years that followed, Thompson published numerous articles and books critiquing American political and social culture on both sides of the aisle. Most famous among these is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, a hallucinogenic journey to the heart of America's hypocrisy and foolishness. Thompson's assignments included trucking around the American west searching, literally, for the American Dream (one helpful diner owner directs he and his attorney to a local drug den that she thinks is called "The American Dream"), covering The Rumble in the Jungle in Zaire and reporting on Vietnam as one of the last civilian American's in the country. He also ran for sheriff of Aspen, CO, on a ticket that promoted decriminalization of drugs among other radical, but reasoned, proposals.
He played his role of professional iconoclast to the last breath, committing suicide with one of his many guns. His friend and illustrator, Ralph Steadman, wrote that Thompson had "told [him] 25 years ago that he would feel real trapped if he didn't know that he could commit suicide at any moment."
One could argue that Thompson knew that he wanted to be a writer from a young age, and followed that path to fruition. But I argue that his writing was an outlet for his polymathic inclinations and disgust with the box in which his employers and reader attempted to confine him. Of course, I did not discuss his rampant drug use and complete disregard of authority, which too can be viewed as liberating and a sort of metaphorical model.
Dr. Gonzo teaches us that one need not conform to the preset standards put forth by any number of authority institutions: parents, university, government, media. By accepting any and all challenges and direction changes as par for the course, Thompson lived an unpredictable life of immense aesthetic and financial success.
So, Hopkins, take care to notice the box walls around you. Tear through the blinders and see the future as it is: open and vast. The world is not the US and Western Europe. Take the power your education has provided and step into the wonderful abyss, unfettered to expectations or desire.
