Go the Distance from Disney’s Hercules should permanently replace Pomp & Circumstance as the song that hopeful college graduates hear as they cross the stage to receive their diploma and start their fresh, exciting, soul-crushingly indebted lives.

This is one of those things that just makes sense but still hasn’t happened yet, like Medicare for All. Hercules is a beautifully messy inspirational journey of a film and this song, which plays as the titular hero comes to grips with the journey he is destined for, is a perfect fit for the emotions that accompany graduation day. Well, at least a better fit than the other song.

A brief history of Pomp & Circumstance

Basically, all you need to know is that this song was originally part of a British Imperialist march. Not a great look to begin with. When your song is the soundtrack to the brutal, bloody expansion of an Empire, and titled after a war mongering quote from Othello, “Pomp and Circumstance of glorious war,” you’ve got an optics problem. The song was written by composer Edward Elgar to encourage the British war effort in South Africa in the 19th century which, again, yikes. They were massacring natives in order to seize gold and diamond mines; not exactly the hopeful vibe college graduation is supposed to inspire.

The song came to America after the debut of its added vocals in 1901, and was instantly used to celebrate graduations. To quote Vox’s Phil Edwards,

“Elgar wears a mortar board in America, and a crown in the U.K.”

This song was designed to inspire Manifest Destiny levels of land seizing zeal, not to usher students into a hopeful future. I’d argue that in today’s increasingly multicultural graduation ceremonies, it’s especially outdated. Time to move on.

So, why Go the Distance specifically?

Because it’s perfect, obviously. The song’s first 3 measures alone contain some of the most inspirational horns in cinema history, as @gracespelman points out in the tweet that inspired this.

Composer Alan Menken has them join humming strings in a relatively quiet but sparkling arrangement in a way that would stir even the most stone-cold heart, and when Roger Bart’s vocals kick in, whew. He fills out the composition with his baritone vocals and David Zippel’s rousing lyrics, urging the listener forward towards their destiny. The vocals aren’t outrageous or mind-blowing, but that’s part of the song’s strength. His voice is that of a young adult finally pursuing the future he’s always dreamt of. His voice is that of a college grad, filled with hope and wonder that will soon be challenged by trials and tribulations thanks to a system that is actively working against us, not unlike the trials Hercules had to go through in his journey. Granted, his had more of a world-saving, titan-slaying tilt to them than the job search process of a young millennial, but the sentiment is shared between the song and the listener nonetheless.

Not only is Go the Distance NOT an imperialist war march, but it is almost exactly the opposite. It’s a song filled with hope, with dreams of finding one’s destiny and saving people along the way, not a song written specifically for the subjugation of native peoples. Go the Distance is meant to inspire courage and positive vibes, not to stoke xenophobic rage. Go the Distance is more interesting compositionally, more emotionally rousing, and less repetitive than Pomp & Circumstance, and it is for all of those reasons that I believe it should fully replace the song at every graduation ceremony from now on. Let’s find our way.

Social media is a paradox. It started out as the digital embodiment of a schoolyard playground, allowing for connections amongst peers and others to thrive despite distance or cultural differences. Twitter and its ilk were designed to bring society together across the globe, allowing for a daisy-chaining of relationships that was supposed to bring everyone closer together.

In recent years, however, the world has seen a darker side to this schoolyard. Bullies have reduced the once collaborative space to a war zone, turning it into more of a Mean Girls-esque high school cafeteria where groups wall themselves off while a battle for power rages on behind the scenes. Now with the instant-gratification of being able to clap back at the haters whenever and wherever, this battleground is increasingly becoming an irreplaceable part of our daily lives.

This is why I took a break.

I’m returning from said break, however, with a fresh perspective. Social media has the potential to give people a seat at the table. We cannot ignore the fact that these platforms have been hijacked by bad-faith actors who seek to cause conflict and use unsavory tactics to silence those who now have a voice thanks to the internet, but we can flip the script on them. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, our country’s youngest congresswoman, took office earlier this month and inspired people to take a stand by not reacting to the outcries of those who sought to silence her with fear (à la Keurig’s response to vocal Fox News fans), but with confidence (see: her response to the “leaked” dancing video). I believe that this is what social media has always had the power to do, and I want to join that discourse. It’s easy to lose oneself in the cacophony of hate that fills these online forums from time to time, but it’s worth it to continue to fight for what you believe in and to stand with those who seek to support you. I hope to continue changing the narrative by empowering those who now have an opportunity to join the conversation.

If we stay loud, strong, and informed, being Extremely Online may not be an entirely bad thing. Just take care of yourself, y’all.

I can divide my life into two distinct time periods: before January 27th, 2017 and after. Arrival was showing for free in the Fowler Theater on Purdue’s campus, and I dragged my very gracious but equally hesitant girlfriend of the time to see it. Movies have always carried emotional weight in my life, but this was different both in context and in impact. The month of January was a turbulent one for my mental health, with the anxiety of an extremely difficult and vital class looming over me while I was starting to come to grips with the depression that accompanied it. I was still floating in a vast sea of insecurity and confusion when it came to my academics, unsure of where to go or what to do or which passion to pursue. Once we were sitting in the relatively uncomfortable Fowler seats, third row on the right hand side of the theater, the movie began. So did the tears.

From the entrance of the grave violin, Johannsson’s music reached directly into my body and took hold of my heart. Something about the melancholy, yet dignified way the violins wept while Amy Adams cradled the head of her dying daughter hit me directly where I was most vulnerable. Therein lies the power of his score, the ability to cut through the visuals and into the heart of the viewer (or listener, in this case). A good film score is designed to perfectly compliment the visuals, a great film supersedes them and becomes its own entity. It expresses the same tone as the action on screen, but expresses it on a different emotional wavelength that works in tandem with the film. It differentiates itself by not relying on any sort of visual, but by standing on its own. It is its own expression, locked in a complex dance with the film itself, working its way into the emotional processing centers of those lucky enough to experience it.

The score for Arrival, despite its unnerving context, gave me a weird sense of hope that I now realize also manifests in the major theme of the film: “there is hope in the unknown.” Overarching themes aside, I was deeply touched that unseasonably warm January night.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Johannsson, and thank you for your work.

That said, cutting toxic people/anthropomorphized animals out of your life is not easy. After a certain point in the relationship, their dependence can start to feel more symbiotic than parasitic despite its inherently draining nature. Chances are if you were giving up your time to help somebody, you’re a compassionate person who sees this as a net positive, and you’re wonderful for that, but don’t let it consume you. Human beings were only meant to handle so much emotional stress and our personal lives more than fill that quota. It is often worse for both parties if this toxic behavior is allowed to continue as exhaustion sets in and tensions build with no resolution in sight. Assisting with the emotional baggage of others isn’t inherently bad, so long as that sharing is mutual. Two heads are better than one, after all, but if only one of those heads is constantly giving advice or running fruit errands, it can quickly become too much for anybody to handle.

Now, I am not making a case for never helping anybody. Helping others with their emotional and (unreasonably specific) furniture needs can be a cathartic experience that may end up helping with our own needs in the long run by strengthening bonds and reminding us of our worth in our most dire moments. Being there for someone provides the emotional strength needed to get through the day by reassuring us that we have an impact on the world. Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp, on the other hand, provides none of this. Despite searching desperately for meaning in the endless quest to provide the right fish, fruit, or bug to my fuzzy, seemingly friendly campmates, I found none. Their banal responses and gifts of a single wooden plank did nothing to calm my existential anxiety. Don’t give to receive, but give to feel alive, and to help others feel alive.

So delete Animal Crossing: Pocket Camp if you find yourself frustrated by the lack of reciprocity from your animal compatriots. Instead, find friends who genuinely appreciate you for all that you are and all that you do. Find friends who support you in return. Find friends who help you remember how wonderful you are. Find friends who don’t reward your hard work and compassion with a single piece of wood.

Medicating mental illness with sentiments like “get over it”, or “man up”, or any number of equally invalidating phrases is simple and has become a panacea for the outside observer. These statements don’t have to be aggressive either, I’ve been told to “be strong” by people who meant the best. But meaning the best isn’t enough when it comes to helping those suffering from these conditions. These empty platitudes come as no surprise considering that everyone feels obligated to say something regarding the sufferer’s situation, but it is infinitely more convenient to water it down than to genuinely engage with the issue. This lack of outside commitment in the mental health conversation stems from a stigma that has permeated society since the days of old when the only solution people could think of was to just remove the problematic part of the brain. Banal phrases like “it’s not real, just don’t think about your depression and you’ll be fine” have (thankfully) replaced the lobotomy as the go-to solution for dealing with mental illness but, unfortunately, that isn’t enough. The conversation about mental health needs to go deeper, and can no longer be one-sided. It can be tough to understand where the sufferer is coming from when you are distant from their ailment, but that is exactly why we need to be talking about it. Having a real discussion about mental health can provide context for those who only have a cursory understanding, furthering the general public’s understanding of mental illnesses

When my depression peaked early last winter, I locked myself in my room and couldn’t find the strength to leave. I emailed professors and told people I was ill, but never specified what I was dealing with because I knew they wouldn’t be able to understand just how serious it was. It wasn’t until I became suicidal that I reached out. If a friend hadn’t come over and talked through it with me, I might not be here writing this article. Being vulnerable and talking about what I was dealing with was exceedingly difficult. I had to let myself feel everything in order to talk about it when I would have much rather bottled it up, but bottling up the feeling of wanting to end your own life is absolutely unhealthy (obviously).

Simply put, conversation saved my life. Because I was given the opportunity to talk through the irrational but very real thoughts I was having, I’m alive. Talking about it has helped me reframe my issues and is still my go-to weapon in the ongoing struggle against my own mind. It is important to provide a space for those who are dealing with mental illness to deconstruct their struggles in an empathetic environment, and that environment can be created by all of us. We can give people a place to feel vulnerable and be honest in order to confront their demons by simply listening, and can help further by providing reassurance of their importance to us.

Validation is the first step to de-stigmatization, which in turn is the first step to saving the lives of those who may be in danger due to an issue that has gone undiagnosed or entirely unnoticed because of the overwhelming nature of the current lack of understanding. It is so easy to feel ashamed of suffering from something so seemingly intangible, and that’s why it’s important to make it tangible through conversation. Talking about these issues makes them feel real to both parties. If people feel like their issues are real, they will feel like they’re treatable, and lives will be saved. Lives that, without empathy, may have been lost. So talk to those you love, let them know they’re loved, and listen when they respond.