LSU has a vibrant campus, bursting with crowds of bustling students, staff and fans walking down soon-to-be burning sidewalks. I have a habit of joining these crowds as I am a walker. I walk; it’s my thing.

The mind-numbing repetitive ache of hard concrete on crappy shoes is cathartic and freeing. Sometimes, I’m listening to music, chatting on the phone or borderline brain-dead, walking a winding path.

But most of the time, I’m walking with the single-minded goal of passive observation. I play by the rules of in-sight-in-mind. Everything I see, I analyze and sometimes make a story for it as long as it’s in sight.

Basically, I people-watch, building-watch and animal-watch in the least creepy way possible.
On rare occasions, I’ll see something that makes me want to cease my incessant walking. It could be the feeling of the bones in my feet shattering, but typically, it’s something involving a group.

On one such recent occasion, I saw the LSU Skate Club practicing at the Memorial Tower. This was not my first time seeing them do sick tricks, but it was my first time actually watching them.

I sat down, watched from a comfortable distance near Hodges Hall, and waited for boredom to set in, expecting it to be quickly. However, it was not quick.

I became enraptured by the movements, both the failures and successes, the clattering of boards and a cacophony of laughter and encouragement wrapped around my head and rooted me firmly to the ground.

I had a few basic but nevertheless important epiphanies whilst watching these skaters.

Like many others, I am extremely self-conscious. When I walk in a classroom, I put all my brain power into making sure I’m not “walking weird,” which is so incredibly dumb. Regardless, I do it every single time. Luckily, I was reminded that every dumb thing can be played off with humility and humor.

This unoriginal thought was not brought forth by Disney movies like it likely should have been, but by watching these people eat dirt and get up with a self-deprecating huff and a smile.

Every mistake is always just a step towards perfection, something we must remember in our day-to-day lives. An especially pertinent phrase to live by for students under the strain of a rigorous curriculum and seemingly impossible standards.

I’m not blind to the fact that all of these lessons and ideas have been said before, typically by people much older than my readers and me.

Nevertheless, it was refreshing and inspiring to see my peers to persevere and push back against physical discomfort and potential embarrassment in pursuit of a passion, not a job.

In times like these, there is such an emphasis on succeeding on the first try and not making a fool of yourself.

So, seeing a group of people my age pursuing a hobby not only fearlessly and joyously but ready and willing, dare I say hungry, for the discomfort that proceeds growth.

Thank you to the Skate Club for reminding me of these core principles to live by.

Garrett McEntee is a 19-year-old English sophomore from Benton.