Good morning Mr. Orwell
Over the course of this semester I have sat through many chapels. I have not spoken out my opinions about them to very many people because I wanted to give them a fair chance before I passed judgment on them. That being said I feel like I have been taking crazy pills. Perhaps the worst part of sitting through chapels is not the unintelligent babble that is spilled out of an overly emotive, hyper-spiritualist incapable of critical thought, rather it is the sneaking feeling that rises in my stomach that perhaps I am the one who is crazy and all of these other people have it right that truly bothers me. I sit there and as I look around, or hear conversations taking place afterward about how great it is, I simply cannot believe it. I found the whole thing overly simplistic and at least slightly out of context to what was trying to be conveyed. Now while I am no great theologian I am a fairly intelligent human being. That being said I know something is stupid when I hear it and the feeling like maybe I am the one who is wrong and that everyone else is right is not a good thing for my somewhat pretentious self. However, there is a glimmer of hope around the corner. Just when I give up hope on all the people around here and accept my role as the cynical hell bound skeptic I talk to someone else who is questioning the status quo. Just like that I am thrust back to reality and when we start talking we find out that there are others like us. It is like some Orwellian conspiracy theory and the school has somehow turned into 1984.
we are the few
long live the resistance
