Into the noise

I was in a very weird place when I graduated high school. If I had to describe seventeen-and-a-half-year-old Kevin, I would probably call him a pressure-cooker of hyper-competitiveness, insecurity, and anxiety drowned out by an overwhelming amount of superficial zeal. (So: not great.)One of the first things that I painfully realized when I moved into my freshman-year room was that the anxiety, insecurity, and competitiveness that accompanied seventeen-year-old Kevin through high school were very real parts of me, especially when the zeal eventually wore off.What I didn’t expect to realize over the next four years was that about a thousand other entirely real characteristics, aesthetics, dispositions, and sets of wants/aspirations also existed within me. I certainly was not prepared for these complexities to make their voices heard, let alone for them to tell me that the way I had been living was an injustice to myself.With all of that in mind, my arrival at Brown signaled the beginning of an incredibly arduous and rewarding journey. I experienced all of these different parts of myself for the first time and had to learn to integrate them into the narrative of my life.It has been the most painful and rewarding journey of my life thus far.One thing Brown very quickly taught me: it’s really hard to be yourself when you’re preoccupied with the burden of figuring out who you are. At any given moment over the past four years, I would find so many thoughts (anxious musings, creative concepts, new goals, self-criticisms, and so much more) running rampantly through my mind, telling me to behave in a hundred different ways, and churning all of my emotions into this oppressively loud white noise that would ultimately cripple me into a state of not being able to really think or do anything productive. It was especially hard to face this noise while surrounded by people who seemed so sure of who they were. (It would take me until senior year to realize that I was not alone in my confusion).I look back on some of the more painful moments of the past four years—rejections and failures of all kinds, late-night panic attacks in bathrooms of strangers’ houses, plans that “fell through” so chronically that I finally took the hint, and so many more—and can now see my emotions getting trapped by this noise. In these moments, I can now recognize the fear of myself—the specific ways in which I need support; my own general confusion about my aspirations and desires; the insecurities I face; and so much more. I'm still working on forgiving myself for giving into this fear.But for every step back, there has been a gigantic step forward.On the academic side, I’ve found such an inspiring and supportive community—especially in Brown’s music department. I am so thankful to have worked with the department's unbelievably kind faculty, as well as so many inspiring peers. This year, pursuing a senior thesis project in which I wrote, recorded, produced, mixed, and mastered an album of original compositions was one of the most important things I have ever done. It was the first time I actually got to look deep within and articulate myself in the form of music. Naturally, it’s as imperfect and in-progress as I am—but it exists in all of its complexity, and that alone is something worth celebrating! (I published about half of the project; give it a listen here, if you'd like.)Beyond academics, I’ve found friendships that both accomadate for and celebrate my confusion. I’m still learning how to lean on others when I need help parsing through the noise, and I am so grateful for the people in my life who have encouraged me to accept support and love when I need it. You all know who you are, and I am so thankful for everything that you’ve done to help me somehow navigate the chaos.Perhaps most importantly, I’ve found the ability to simply exist in my own in space.I am so grateful for the time I've spent just sitting on the Quiet Green and thinking, letting the most disparate and wild parts of myself exist quietly in the open. I know how pretentious it sounds, but these moments have actually allowed for me to feel comfortable being all of myself in the world, maybe for the first time ever.I suppose that if there’s anything that I’ve learned over the past four years, it’s that there’s a lot of beauty in the noise of our complexities. At the risk of being trite, I might even say that I’ve finally learned to find some harmony in it all.To Brown and everyone who has shaped my time here: thank you for helping me venture into the noise and figure out who I actually am.