Last night Tumblr decided to slip my feed some post regarding the anniversary of the Kent State shootings claiming that liberals wanting gun control is ACKTUALLY disrespectful to the students who died that day because they weren’t armed and not wanting people to have access to military grade weapons obviously means wanting the state armed to the teeth and honestly, that utter mental gymnastics bullshit barely phases me anymore. The amount of mental effort you have to put in to make yourself look so “owning” when you’re actually just an awful attention whore…is completely antithetical to the logical facts of how the world actually works. And I have the privilege of not having to pay attention to people who only want my outrage. I can laugh at them and go on my merry way focusing on what is actually important to my life and self betterment.
Most of last week was spent focusing on the May 4 commemoration, and it was probably the most overwhelming and valuable time of my life. Standing before a crowd of dedicated people, young and old, and getting to use my voice. Getting swarmed with messages of hope and support as a result. Connecting with so many kind, caring, fascinating individuals throughout the week. Working my tail off and juggling so many factors the entire time. It was extremely rewarding. Now I’m back home on a well deserved summer break. I’m feeling accomplished and more excited than I ever thought I’d be for next semester to start up. (Maybe some time I’ll eep out a more comprehensive recount. Who knows.)
Throughout my freshman year, I knew there was plenty I still had left to learn. Last week proved to me that there is even more for me to learn than I ever could have expected. It’s a pill I’ll have to swallow while everyone around me is monitoring my intake as good ol’ Senate Bill 83 aims its security cameras at me and everyone else. But it’s a dedication I’m willing to make, because it is how I want to spend my time, and I know firsthand that it is good for me.
And the last thing the powers that be want someone like me to do is spend my days doing something so invigorating.
Campus is a-changin’. Jesus Christ on a stick, I just got here. Deep breaths.
Every time I see something about some change happening here, I generally roll my eyes really hard because it’s 2023 and we’re still in the middle of the “2018-2020″ phase of this whole “master plan” they’ve got for campus. Thanks, COVID. Thanks, recession. And thanks, university administration, for your persisting zeal, which is fascinating to observe. The shiny new map of campus they plastered up on the first floor of the library has their projected business building on it, even though I have seen “it” from a distance multiple times and “it” is nowhere close to even being considered an unfinished building. I’ll be able to watch the construction up close next semester since it’ll be right next to Verder Hall, where I’ll be cooping up without a roommate or AC. I literally thought that building was supposed to be demolished this year.
The final result of Big Business Hall (actually Crawford) is supposed to look something like this, with creepy prison-drawbridge bunker White Hall apparently totally unchanged to its left:
Tree City, amirite? I love how quaint campus is.
Anger inducing sterile boring grassy fields aside, a headline from our own Kent Wired about campus evolution caught my eye in that it was very distinct from any superficial flex of size, power, or fleeting modernity. It was actually based on changing the curriculum itself. It was about the First Year Experience course that help the adorable freshmen-I should know-acclimate them to campus. Next semester, they’ll be rebranding it as Flashes 101, which I’ll admit is a pretty adorable name.
The thing that sticks me out about this new version of the class is that, this time around, students will be able to choose between sections that are specific to their area of study, like the section I had to take, or general sections that include peers with a mix of interests. In my experience, being grouped with students within my major’s college ended up only benefiting me on a personal level, not a social one. My FYE professor was actually the dean of the college my major was located within, and it was really beneficial having such direct access to her and her enthusiasm as I considered different options of what it even was I wanted to do with my education.
I did not have the same lasting effect with any of my peers who were taking the class with me, however. That’s no one’s fault, but it does confirm my belief that defining people by and grouping them together based on one loose and pretty much non-defining factor doesn’t mean they’re all going to be best friends forever. Facts of life, you know. I also ended up changing my major twice last semester, though I was located within the same college every time. Had I been even more questioning and veered off into another college or area of discipline entirely, I might have felt like I didn’t belong alongside everyone else.
Part of what excited me most about college was meeting people different from myself. And by being fascinated by what made people different from the rest, I was able to find the people I’ve clicked with most so far. I hate interacting with humans, but when you find someone you’re actually excited to allot time out of your schedule for, it’s the best feeling in the world. And then maybe on another day you overhear someone in your Media, Power and Culture class say that he doesn’t pay any attention to the news or politics and that he only pays attention to football, and you can’t believe how anyone could live life like that. And it makes you feel a little more confident in a part of yourself you might’ve questioned in a world gone mad.
College is inherently fucked up, and it can be oddly isolating when schedules don’t match up or disintegrate entirely. But that’s why it works. It gives you the superficial comforts of “You Belong Here” posters and tag along friends from high school (unless you’re me), and then it throws you into the arena of self reliance, self confidence, and self advocating. You will find community and solidarity, and you will also find spontaneity and the people who you strive to be the exact opposite of in every way possible. And the beautiful thing is that here at Kent State, we all have our own ways of being “the worst kind of people we harbor in America”, as per one Governor James Rhodes. The good and the bad are definitely both teasing away at my comfort zone at any given moment. The mindless bus rides, the hard walks through rain and snow, the late night study sessions, the frat parties, the emphasis on legacy, the gentrification. The supposed fact that downtown apparently needs two goddamn smoothie bowl places for some reason. Humanity in all of its facets is at both its dimmest and its brightest in College Town USA, and that will never cease to wow me.
College is all I wanted it to be and everything I didn’t think to dread all at once, and I just might love that.
As my last photos I posted indicated, I went ice skating for the first time on Friday. Ever since last year they’ve blocked off one of the streets by the campus’s barren, esplanaded edge and installed a rink for a few months in winter.
Friday was also the day the historic mill downtown caught fire. Before I went to the rink I was watching it being put out from a distance as blinking lights from the fire department’s vehicles punched holes in the black. Blocks away it was being pierced by cutesy Christmas lights they put around while I was home on break last weekend. They finally put the fire out yesterday afternoon. It made me angry at first. A seemingly eternal view, one that I had appreciated and even taken for granted, totally destroyed. I try to never take attending an institution with such a history attached to it for granted. I walk with the weight of a scholarship in memory of a man who worked his tail to preserve that history for future generations when he was alive; I can’t just take certain presences for granted, can I? But I still took that quaint Taco Tontos view for granted. Things are wack here.
Skating did help distract me, though. I had always wanted to try it out, and having roller skated on and off for a while, it was easy to pick up, as much as I clung to the wall. It felt satisfying and even empowering. I took a few knees and resigned with confidence (and one independent lap) to catch the last bus home. It just felt good, good to be out there doing something I had always wanted to, on a whim and without external limitation. Bruised knees are cool.
I skated for the second time tonight at the university arena, which has public skating sessions every so often. The lobby is excruciatingly wood panel, and it has the faint smell of popcorn from the snack bar. There is a party room where a bunch of little girls were having a party. Out on the rink I kept running into (not literally) a really adorable little girl with bangs, black leggings, and a slightly-too-big Nirvana shirt. I should’ve turned her on to the Melvins, but I had skating to do. Other than the small children (of which there were many), there were all kinds of people there, including funhaving college couples, cocky college boys, and a few seasoned vets who seemed to effortlessly glide across the floor. I kept looking at one guy, an older guy who looked kind of like David Crosby but not absurd in the facial hair department, who just casually sailed along with his hands in his pockets. He just seemed so cool.
I was not cool on the ice, or at least I didn’t feel cool, because my continued reliance on the wall got me trapped in a lot of traffic jams behind tiny children who didn’t really know how to skate, and I kept falling on my ass. My roller skating career ended when I was standing completely still in the middle of the street hockey court in a hometown-local park, lost my balance for a split second, fell on my ass, and sprained my wrist catching my fall. Obviously, I was overjoyed to keep falling on my ass. GREAT JOB.
I can tell I’m doing well just going out there at all, even if my confidence tonight lasted in spurts. It was just a different experience. It was admittedly a little hard to focus, especially when “You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful” segued into “Baby Shark” near the end of the hour and a half when the sound system had tired of Christmas music. (The downtown rink did supply “Simply Having A Wonderful Christmastime” at the same exact time as actual rain, but at least it stayed on theme.) I’m not sure if I made any progress tonight, really. But I don’t want to abandon it out of lack of immediate proficiency. Because when I do get into the zone, the things that weigh heavy are trivial, and I feel like I can do anything.
The first public May 4 Task Force meeting of the semester, and my first public meeting of the group overall, was on Thursday. In short, it was a very good time. Four new students showed up, one of whom said she learned of the meeting just hours before thanks to one of the posters I’d put up by one of the dining halls.
I’d been emailed the PDF at our first in-person officer meeting the previous Thursday, and I proceeded to make such rounds that afternoon that when I retired for the night, I was sweating like crazy because I had chosen to make my vigorous rounds in multiple layers. Recruitment is stpd but srs bsns. Especially when you’re automatically delegated the organization’s secretary upon invitation because there were literally two other students who were confirmed to be involved and they needed more leadership positions filled.
I posted some more in other locations throughout the next few days as opportunities came up—the dining hall poster that got us a new recruit was actually one of the last ones I’d put up. It’s wild to think that, though it’s very, very early in my time with the Task Force and at Kent State in general, I’m already having some sort of influence. Sophia, you sneaky bastard.
I’m blogging…OUTSIDE. The weather here has been bearable, even though snow is scheduled for Tuesday. I’m sitting in this chair outside the Honors College that has “fuck you” faintly carved into one of the armrests. There’s a name also craved underneath, but it’s too hard to make out. An extremely yellow leaf just blew off the tree a few feet away from me and smacked me in the face. It’s quite a rainbow looking at all the nature around here. They don’t call it Tree City for no reason, unless they decide to make everything Esplanade flat and perfectly mowed and boring.
Taylor Hall is a glance away. I was sitting on Blanket Hill facing the old victory bell a few minutes ago, but I couldn’t concentrate on blogging just sitting on the ground. Quite a few people have been walking by looking at the unfinished memorial and the May 4 informational signs today. It’s pretty much always older people, no matter which side of Taylor you’re facing.
I think about that a lot, and the more I see how this campus functions, the more I feel that urge to enact some change. Things feel frozen in time here, and to be frank, it’s not in a good way. The weather might be okay for a cardigan, but I feel like too many people here are frozen in ice cube trays of apathy and acceptance. When people are encouraged to take action, they rarely do. On a general level, depending on the world view of whoever you’re asking, the only way to make change is to either vote for someone who doesn’t truly represent you or risk your life marching in the street and relying on buzzwords. They rarely tell you that there’s room for sneaky introverts in that process. And that sneaky, introverted work, the subversive work, the work that fits my style the most, is often the hardest.
Hell, half of the time the people who are rallying the most for change seem dismissive of the prospect of change actually occurring. There’s an exhibition of letterpress prints in Taylor right now, and some of them are truly amazing. There’s something so satisfying about a good letterpress design, with the jumbled remixed letters and strong colors. There’s just nothing better. But when I was walking through the exhibit the other day, one of the posters on display, frankly, made me angry. It was very post-Roe hopeless. All the text was about how women have the “freedom” to die of an ectopic pregnancy and be incubators and the like, topped off by the declaration, “so much freedom!” Like I’m going to let anyone tell me what I can do with my body. You make change by just not letting people do nefarious things to you. Or, alternatively, you make it by letting yourself do the things that you know are the best, even if they are unpopular. Both of these types of defiance can be very hard, especially the last one, and neither get you many political brownie points. You get those points by beginning and ending at complaining. That changes nothing. Speaking, writing, creating art and music, holding events, educating others, proving other people wrong is how you change things. You have to show that you own them when they try to own you.
With this in mind, no matter how hard it is to accomplish, I’m really hoping to skew the ratio.
In the past week, I became the subject of numerous jokes about how I was going to need four blog entries for that past weekend alone—it later multiplied to six—because of all the events that got jam-packed into three and a half weary, weary days. Three days that contained my personal favorite nerd gathering, the DEVOtional, and would go on to comprise possibly the most roller coaster-like weekend of my life thus far.
Welp, after over a week, here it comes.
The aforementioned weekend really kicked off on Thursday (though I had a class the next morning). The members of DEVOtional veteran act Fight Milk, having come in early for rehearsals, found time in their schedule to come down to good ol’ Kent State so I could show them around.
I’ve been seeing Fight Milk at DEVOtional since 2019, and it’s been wild seeing them morph and mutate into what they are now. Not only do they always bring the most extreme amounts of fun, they also really get what DEVO is all about in a way. They are dedicated, and they respect what those old fogies were doing while still maintaining a Gen Z flair. Add that all three of their performers this year were coming from such long distances—lone constant Jackson from Seattle, Tavi from Finland, and Max from San Diego—and it only felt fitting that they should get to see where DEVO all began.
The first up important locale was Governance Chambers, the site of both the “Jocko Homo” music video and DEVO’s second ever show, in the Student Center. Luckily, one of its sets of doors was unlocked and no one was in there, so we slipped in without even a whimper from anyone actually working in the building. URBAN EXPLORATION! It was a great joy seeing the guys be such nerds in there, ESPECIALLY Max, the guy who, you know, covered the entirety of that second show.
They also did some obligatory Mark Mothersbaugh poses:
Before heading into town, I got to show them the site of the shootings on May 4, 1970, which DEVO’s bassist witnessed and credits with being the catalyst of the band. You would figure that the place where DEVO was born, and a place so historical at that, would be at least somewhat noteworthy for people to visit when they’re coming up for the DEVOtional every year. At least we got to do our part.
It was a solemn experience walking down to the victory bell on the commons and looking down on the Taylor Hall parking lot from the perspective of the National Guardsmen who killed four and wounded nine that day. But it was a worthwhile and important one, and all three also enjoyed the visitors center inside Taylor Hall as well, with all its artifacts providing context.
Here they were looking for coin offerings that matched up with 1970 at I believe Allison’s parking space.
We also stalked through McGilvrey Hall, which has some May 4 related displays on its first floor and is generally an incredible time capsule of the mid century in terms of its hallways. We peeked into the auditorium in Cartwright Hall, where DEVO have performed—there was a recital going on!—as well.
After some aimless wandering, we headed down the esplanade into town, got handed some Get Out Of Hell Free cards by some old dude, and made our way towards Water Street, which contains a row of buildings that can be seen in the video for “Secret Agent Man.” More nerd behavior ensued.
When that was all said and done, our next goal was sustenance. Taco Tontos was on the menu. On our way down, we ended up running into a poster for DEVOtional, the whole reason these three nerds were here in the first place. We still don’t know the culprit.
We would then discuss all the secrets of the group’s set list while Tavi ate the best burrito he’d had in his life. Actually, we all ended up getting burritos. What weirdos. How deviant from the norm. Another important lesson realized by these friends: Taco Tontos never disappoints.
We made our way back to the campus one last time so the guys could get an Uber and rest up for Friday’s activities.
It was an absolute blast showing the guys around, and it felt like a natural way to kick off the weekend. For me, it was definitely more than satisfying getting to see Kent State finally get some acknowledgment—especially from some talented nerds who have been finding themselves on the forefront of…whatever this modern battleground is. After all, you can’t go forward without knowing your history.
A good fourth of my bedroom floorspace is currently taken up by filled bags and storage bins waiting to be loaded into a car and actually get put to use. I’ve got an upgraded laptop arriving at the beginning of August and numerous niche band posters on my eBay watchlist. A pristine double room in one Johnson Hall awaits five hours away. It feels too good to be true.
One month left.
My anticipation towards heading off to Kent has only been rising recently. So is the anxiety. I’m going off to Ohio, and Ohio is a state currently best known for being a place that ten year old girls have to escape from if they want to get abortions after being raped, so I can’t help but feel…weird…about it. Especially when I get to see people literally flat out say not to go to colleges in states that crack down on abortion, which, despite being aimed at the peanut gallery and not me personally, make me paranoid as hell. Ah, the internet.
Back in the protesty heyday of the swinging sixties, Kent State was considered a “liberal oasis” in a cesspool of rednecks that I can’t imagine being not too dissimilar from the cesspool of rednecks I get to experience living where I have my whole life. Pennsylvania? “Liberal”? Really? When a house a few blocks down from me boasts a cutesy cartoon cutout of No. 45 (seriously) and a “Not My President” sign in the front lawn, I think not. When I say that Ohio feels like a home away from home, I mean that in both the best and worst ways possible.
I tried for college in my supposedly libby home state. It didn’t exactly work out. I actually got accepted into a school not very far from my home base that my parents always dreamed for me to attend. It is much more traditionally prestigious than Kent and also happened to support the draft during the Vietnam War (no kidding). Their admitted student day event opened with possibly the most boring, statistics filled PowerPoint slideshow known to man, one that not even the parents should have had to sit through, never mind the kids. I did not retain most of its pie chart-laden glory. But I do remember the main emphasis of the power-dressing young female presenter’s speech on the school’s well-rounded curriculum: that it would help “market” students to future employers. She then went on to highlight all the shiny big name corporations graduates of the school had entered careers at. What a reason to get an education—so that your parents can smile at your hefty paycheck and how charming it is that you work for Google or Disney. Unlike the squeaky clean cardboard cutout of a college kid that exists inside the heads of people like that, I’m not aiming to stay in a certain lane to make the faceless head honchos I’m apparently supposed to be pleasing feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I may please some people as I make my way down the highway of life, but my trip is mine. I would rather not have someone who thinks they know more about my life than I do try to make life-altering decisions for me. Sound familiar?
I could go on about the multitude of reasons why I’ve chosen Kent State, but I’m not in the mood. I don’t feel the need to ‘prove’ my decision to anyone, and I feel comfortable not having that burden. I was granted the ability to take the chance that I wanted to take, and it would be silly to throw it away for something subpar and unfulfilling.
It’s my choice, and I’m sticking to it. Having few freedoms left, I feel strangely proud of that.
Over the weekend, I got my first true taste at college life. Kent State freshman orientation. Verdict: not too shabby. It was the fourth time I’d been to Kent, and it might have been the most satisfying visit there yet. Today actually marks one year since I first stepped foot in the college town, which I still find hard to believe. When four nebulous years lie ahead of me, it feels even more surreal. But that strangeness has never felt negative.
We rolled into town last Thursday afternoon, with my orientation beginning the next morning. I got to visit North Water Street, an old part of town I had never been to before. It’s the site of the old JB’s club, a regionally legendary venue that hosted the likes of 15-60-75 (The Numbers Band) and DEVO. It’s called the Brew Down now, but the outlines of its sign and door awning remain the same, albeit in a more garish KSU blue and gold. The buildings beside it, featured in DEVO’s pioneering 1976 short film The Truth About De-Evolution, are worn and boarded up, and one has been demolished. It was interesting to see that not all of the city has succumbed to the cutesy college town ‘vibes’ that seemingly define the ideal 2020s campus.
They also sell Numbers Band shirts at one of the local school shirt shops, which are sick, though I kept myself from buying one due to my current unfamiliarity with their material. I ain’t no poser, yuh see.
In seeing the campus itself across the three days I was in town, it was probably the most gorgeous I’d ever seen it. The weather was pristine the entire weekend, and the campus was seemingly made for sunsets. Buildings such as Franklin Hall, which I’ll be spending some time in as a journalism major, looked more dignified than ever. Spring in Kent is incredible for more reasons than just the history, even as it was rolling into a sweltering summer.
The orientation itself went down easily. There was quite a bit of sitting through informational presentations that could have just been read online, but the rest of the time let me connect with and adapt to my new surroundings and traditions hands-on. The process felt effortless. I stayed overnight in a dorm for the first time, and while honors college housing will be supplying me with much more living space than I experienced Friday night, I thought my room’s compactness was pretty charming. As long as I don’t have to bunk my bed, I’m good. The communal bathroom situation went easier than I expected, and the dining hall food wasn’t too shabby. I also did the Electric Slide for the first time. I wish I regretted doing that.
The climax of the event was working out my fall semester schedule, which went very smoothly. Afterwards I had over an hour until my next scheduled activity, so I took the opportunity to wander around campus some more, figuring out how much time I would need to get between classes. I revisited the site of the May 4 shootings, my first time as an official student. And in knowing that my choice was official, that I had successfully taken my life into my own hands in some way, that I had my own footsteps to make both following in and alongside those who came before me—I felt more secure than I ever had before standing on those hallowed grounds.
I got my university ID card shortly afterwards in the student center, which was satisfying to say the least, even though I almost lost it by letting it fall onto the floor minutes after receiving it. I left high school with a doi; I entered college with one. Some things never change. But I expect better behavior from myself during my tenure at Kent.
I’ve been writing annually about what May 4, 1970 means to me for three years now. Fifty-two years since a day that feels all too relevant.
I remember when I first heard about National Guardsmen slaughtering four college kids at a peaceful anti-war protest in Ohio. I would have never expected that I could have been able to contribute directly to keeping the spirit of Kent and Jackson State alive, to honoring a truth that continues to be neglected and slandered.
Receiving this honor leaves me humbled and at a loss for words—and feeling more dutiful than ever.
The fact is is that it is a crucial time in terms of human rights. It’s sickening that only more and more progress is being made to strip humans of the lives they want to live, and as too many seem to forget in our emotionally charged world, the oppression of one opens the door for the oppression of the rest. If, say, reproductive rights are stripped away, what’s next? The right to nonsegregated schools? The right to marry the one you love? The right to live in a world that is not polluted, overcrowded, and disgusting? The right to speak your mind without a gun being pointed at your head?
It’s up to critical thinkers with vigor and skill—like the kids who protested on the Kent State commons that crisp spring day—to stand up against those who tell us that violations of human freedom and autonomy are okay. And as the world becomes bleaker and darker and more repelling and more constricting with each passing day, somebody’s got to be willing to rub some sticks together and try to find a light.
As we march into an uncertain future, we cannot forget our past.
I give my salute to all of those raising awareness of Kent State and keeping the good fight going.
Targeted. 2022. Digital illustration. Created for the May 4 To George Floyd student art exhibition on Kent State University’s Risman Plaza, May 2, 2022.
Kent Let It Go
Sunday, September 25th, 2022In the past week, I became the subject of numerous jokes about how I was going to need four blog entries for that past weekend alone—it later multiplied to six—because of all the events that got jam-packed into three and a half weary, weary days. Three days that contained my personal favorite nerd gathering, the DEVOtional, and would go on to comprise possibly the most roller coaster-like weekend of my life thus far.
Welp, after over a week, here it comes.
The aforementioned weekend really kicked off on Thursday (though I had a class the next morning). The members of DEVOtional veteran act Fight Milk, having come in early for rehearsals, found time in their schedule to come down to good ol’ Kent State so I could show them around.
I’ve been seeing Fight Milk at DEVOtional since 2019, and it’s been wild seeing them morph and mutate into what they are now. Not only do they always bring the most extreme amounts of fun, they also really get what DEVO is all about in a way. They are dedicated, and they respect what those old fogies were doing while still maintaining a Gen Z flair. Add that all three of their performers this year were coming from such long distances—lone constant Jackson from Seattle, Tavi from Finland, and Max from San Diego—and it only felt fitting that they should get to see where DEVO all began.
The first up important locale was Governance Chambers, the site of both the “Jocko Homo” music video and DEVO’s second ever show, in the Student Center. Luckily, one of its sets of doors was unlocked and no one was in there, so we slipped in without even a whimper from anyone actually working in the building. URBAN EXPLORATION! It was a great joy seeing the guys be such nerds in there, ESPECIALLY Max, the guy who, you know, covered the entirety of that second show.
They also did some obligatory Mark Mothersbaugh poses:
Before heading into town, I got to show them the site of the shootings on May 4, 1970, which DEVO’s bassist witnessed and credits with being the catalyst of the band. You would figure that the place where DEVO was born, and a place so historical at that, would be at least somewhat noteworthy for people to visit when they’re coming up for the DEVOtional every year. At least we got to do our part.
It was a solemn experience walking down to the victory bell on the commons and looking down on the Taylor Hall parking lot from the perspective of the National Guardsmen who killed four and wounded nine that day. But it was a worthwhile and important one, and all three also enjoyed the visitors center inside Taylor Hall as well, with all its artifacts providing context.
We also stalked through McGilvrey Hall, which has some May 4 related displays on its first floor and is generally an incredible time capsule of the mid century in terms of its hallways. We peeked into the auditorium in Cartwright Hall, where DEVO have performed—there was a recital going on!—as well.
After some aimless wandering, we headed down the esplanade into town, got handed some Get Out Of Hell Free cards by some old dude, and made our way towards Water Street, which contains a row of buildings that can be seen in the video for “Secret Agent Man.” More nerd behavior ensued.
When that was all said and done, our next goal was sustenance. Taco Tontos was on the menu. On our way down, we ended up running into a poster for DEVOtional, the whole reason these three nerds were here in the first place. We still don’t know the culprit.
We would then discuss all the secrets of the group’s set list while Tavi ate the best burrito he’d had in his life. Actually, we all ended up getting burritos. What weirdos. How deviant from the norm. Another important lesson realized by these friends: Taco Tontos never disappoints.
We made our way back to the campus one last time so the guys could get an Uber and rest up for Friday’s activities.
It was an absolute blast showing the guys around, and it felt like a natural way to kick off the weekend. For me, it was definitely more than satisfying getting to see Kent State finally get some acknowledgment—especially from some talented nerds who have been finding themselves on the forefront of…whatever this modern battleground is. After all, you can’t go forward without knowing your history.
Or an empty stomach.
Tags:DEVO, DEVOtional, DEVOtional 2022, Fight Milk, history lessons, Kent State, May 4, May 4 Visitors Center, my boyfriend, nerds, things I enjoy
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