Allow Me My Indulgence

Being presented with the most controversial semester in school history certainly helps the whole “write about rhetoric” prompt. It’s everywhere – easily found without even trying. It can be read in The Collegian, online blogs, emails from the administration, heard in press conferences, and certainly noticed in town hall meetings.

That being said, with so many options, it becomes easy to pick favorites. Personally, I love when I see and hear thick rhetoric coming from students. In a society that still has a hard time listening to ideas coming from a younger generation than the whomever the authority figure is, it is highly entertaining to see former express themselves.

Our emotions are high, our passion strong, and our convictions very stubborn. We don’t care if we’re “politically correct,” and we don’t care if that grabs attention. And that, sounds like a recipe for something interesting.

This week, that something interesting surfaced on a storefront window; spread quickly by Twitter, the window of the cupcake shop, ndulge on College Ave caught many people’s attention.

picture by @shawnphoto22

The window, which was washed clean a few days later, read “JoePa… a special place in Heaven… PSU Trustees… an eternal place in Hell.” I loved it. A business! Granted, this is in a college town, bustling with emotion, full of people who agree with the message. But the fact remains, that this was something very unconventional and – for lack of a better word – very ballsy.

The employees at ndulge expressed what many are feeling, sure, but the fact that it actually happened and that they were willing to bet these sentiments on their business is something that I find incredible and mind-blowing. I respect it to the utmost, and I even bought a cupcake there that I otherwise wouldn’t have.

In this circumstance I find the rhetoric in the bluntness of this particular message, especially when surrounded by so many other outlets that try to bury similar feelings beneath drastic verbosity.

I often like walking downtown to see the drawings on the storefronts, but so far, I’d say this one takes the cake.

A Loss for Words

I’m a big believer in passion.

I embrace the things that I love – I live and die with them. I like the unity created when a group of people is so attached to a common cause, and I love how their conversations are able to transcend to another level.

What I don’t like is when outsiders attempt to intrude.  When people who don’t understand barge in – and then don’t even attempt to try to get what’s going on.

I found that these two ends of the spectrum were very much at odds with each other from the time that the Sandusky scandal broke until, well even up until now.

Copyright of The Penn Stater

When asked to blog about rhetoric, I could immediately think of no better example than the January/February edition cover of The Penn Stater, Penn State’s alumni magazine.

The cover perfectly depicts the emotions of the type of passionate group referred to above – the alumni. The ones who know what it’s like to eat at The Diner, to cheer their throats hoarse at Beaver Stadium, to play Frisbee on the Old Main lawn... the ones who have been here.

The cover depicts darkness. Fallen letters at the bottom of the page say more than any words ever could. Everyone has always been taught that if you make things colorful and extravagant, they’ll be more noticeable – that they’ll grab attention.

Here, nothing pops.  There is no color, no designs, no “wow” factor. Nothing is commonplace.

Though, I’d certainly call it noticeable.

It is exactly the feeling of the Penn State population. Loss, shame, and frustration can begin to describe the emotions, sure. But they are not enough, and that’s what this cover says.

Out of all of the articles and media that have surfaced since this story broke in November, I find this one picture to be my favorite. It is a product of the passionate group – the group who understands. It is not from the media, the people who haven’t a clue about the inner culture of Penn State University, the ones who don’t “get it.”

I think that the cover is incredibly rhetorical, if for nothing else, it expresses emotions in a way that no person could for nearly two months.

And, to me, that is incredibly powerful.