OCTOBER 2, 2014 | OPINION | 07
editor in chief
ALEX WHITE
William’s death helps
columnist evauluate
priorities in life
ILLUSTRATION BY CATHY GRIFFITH
‘Avada
Kedavra’
Columnist looks beyond magic
co editor
CLARA SHINE
The
music
echoed
through
the halls,
soft and
eerie,
almost
drowned
out by the
chattering
of the crowd.
A full orchestra swelled around
us, tugging and welcoming us into
the land of my childhood. It’s always
been a wonderful land, full of magic
and excitement and adventure, a world
of witchcraft and a place where love
conquers all.
The land of Harry Potter.
For years, it was all fiction, but
Universal brought my childhood to life.
Standing in line is a small price to pay
for that kind of realism.
They’ve created a world, a home
for nerds like me who hold true to the
power and magic of fiction.
One day, though, I stepped behind
the magic.
My three friends and I visited for one
of their birthdays to drink Butterbeer
and play in the land of imagination.
We wandered through the halls with
the throngs all around us, chattering
loudly with the iconic music filling our
hearts. We only fell silent when the
characters appeared--Harry, Ron, and
Hermione beckoning us on to a game of
Quidditch.
One last corridor of stone before
loading. We were so close, ready for the
thrill and excitement of the four-minute
ride.
I could see the Sorting Hat talking
in the distance, just barely catching the
words, “My safety lesson’s done.We
hope you live to tell the tale, and most
of all, have fun!”
Then, a door opened.
A worker called for a group of four,
and we went. The worker elf ushered us
through to the beyond--metal.
A metal hallway, a metal elevator,
another metal hallway, and yet another
metal elevator only this one brought us
back down.
After finishing repairs on a
cart, workers wanted riders for its
reintroduction into the sweeping cycle.
I lead the boys, being ushered
onto the far seat of the cart. Soft black
leather engulfed us, surrounded by
yellow plastic.
We sat there for several minutes,
while staff made final checks on the
cart, and then we started moving.
We barely moved 20 feet before we
stopped. Only my seat hung over the
edge, ready to descend down into the
thrilling abyss.
But our cart was not the only one
to stop. The main loading dock carts
stopped as well, leaving passengers
suspended in place.
After several minutes, the lights
came on. A voice came over the
intercom, “We are experiencing
technical difficulties.”
From my slightly downward tilted
position, I saw the underworld of the
land.
Everything was cement. A solid
cement floor with a long black metal
track supporting the carts.
I could see the track running under
the main loading dock.
Eventually, after several minutes of
feet-kicking boredom, the ride started
up again.
The cheering echoed through the
room, while my friends and I remained
in place.
They pulled the cart back, telling us
that it needed more work, and to tell
the workers when we got back in line to
jump us to the front.
We were left to wander through
the metal halls the way we came back
alone, unaided by workers, and after a
little bickering we got back to the line
where we stepped back in right where
we left it.
While I love the world with my whole
heart, this experience changed the
magic for me.
It became clear in my mind that what
seems to be magical is really all just a
technological illusion.
At age 63, comedian Robin Williams
took his own life.
Although Williams battled depression
for many years before, the tragic loss still
came as a shock to his loved ones, and
the entertainment community.
Williams sought treatment in 2006 for
drug and alcohol addiction; he also battled
substance abuse early on in his career.
In the years past, the spotlight shined
on William’s drug and alcohol abuse, and
not as much on his depression and diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease.
According to the World Health Organization, major depressive disorder is the
leading cause of disability in the U.S. for
ages 15-44 and 50% of people diagnosed
with Parkinson’s disease also experience
depression.
The sudden passing and the revealation of his depression makes one
wonder who else we overlook? What
else could’ve been going on that no one
noticed?
Friends I’ve had throughout high
school have sought help for reasons such
as anxiety and depression. I am grateful
that they don’t have to bear this alone.
When they ask for my help, I didn’t
know how to deal with it effectively, and
neither did they.
I’ve had friends who would frequently
skip class to be alone in a bathroom stall.
Or skip school multiple days a week, preferring to be in a dark bedroom sleeping
rather than interacting with others.
I also found these friends adapting
strange sleeping patterns, finally falling
asleep around three a.m.
William’s death also made me wonder
who else around me isn’t reaching out to
get the help they need.
Friends should take initiative and make
an effort to notice the small things that can
possibly signal depression.
Some examples include constant
negativity, anger/irritability, and loss of
confidence in oneself. Just the day before
his death, Williams made an appearance
at a local Bay Area art gallery along with
artist Mark Jaeger. He seemed joyful,
which is strange to think that someone
can hide their true feelings and darkest
thoughts from the rest of the world, and
their loved ones.
I wonder who else could be hiding
suicidal thoughts in my life and who else is
too afraid or hesitant to ask for help.
It scares me to think that maybe I
won’t notice someone who is troubled.
It scares me to think that with certain
people, I’ll never know what is truly running through their minds.
It scares me to think that so many
people may need help.