Interpol Will 10/10 Hit Your Nostalgic Feels

Interpol Will 10/10 Hit Your Nostalgic Feels

Interpol's song All the Rage Back Home will hit you in the heart faster than you can say post-punk revival.

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So there are lots of songs that are my go-to's when it is 2 a.m. and I'm feeling things. But the song that I listen to when I'm feeling heartbreak, is none other than "All the Rage Back Home" by Interpol.

I asked a few friends what their interpretations of the song were, and here is what they thought, as follows:


Meaning #1: I believe that this song is about a man whose youthful romantic delusions begin to fade with maturity.

The song begins in a type of romantic rapture with the singer being nearly unaccompanied.

It then jumps to life when he says structure. As he says structure, the mood of rapture is brought back to earth with the actual presence and demands of the other.

The phrase "I keep falling…" sets up the idea of a happy sentiment, which is undercut with both the shift from a major to a minor chord and the kicker "... maybe half the time." It is a man who cannot sustain the romantic illusions of his youth.

The title of the song is cryptic, but I believe it refers to both the disappointment and unhappiness he feels in himself. It also imposes on his partner, for whom he can no longer be the perfect poet-lover.

Meaning #2: Frustrated anger messing up his creative ambitions?

The source of anger is his memory of the distant past, coming to the realization that his lovers did not really love him. He then rejects rational thought to ease the sense of loneliness and lost hope and goes back to a romantic picture of the past.

He cannot get what he wants, the way he wants it; stuck between wanting the truth to feel dissolved and free from the concept of either/or, and his fear that such a state would dissolve love too, and that it might not be such a great idea even if it ends in various troubles and an inescapable overall need for love.

Finally, he cannot tell what is what and decides he came at it a wrong, blaming his propensity for anger.

Finally, my thoughts on the song - Meaning #3: I feel the song is reflective of himself, hence how at first he talks of "my 18 summers" and his relationships through time, both with women and himself. Perhaps he is fed up of this/does not feel as strongly as the girl does, or is as equally upset as her but instead of crying, is silent. This is demonstrated in how he says "Oh, the feeling" - either a feeling of love/sadness with her or a feeling of being lost within this entire thing (the relationship).

The latter interpretation that he is somewhat at a loss with this relationship could be backed up in the second part where she tells him "you don't need time" which reminds me of a guy taking a break, needing time to think and her saying "you don't need to!" To which he says "You don't need mine (time)" and to "behave" … perhaps in the meantime of their break.

The rest of the song continues to be a back-forth of feelings he's experiencing, the girl, his sense of confusion "I keep falling - maybe half the time - but it's all the rage back home" - I feel like when he says "it's all the rage back home" he's almost trash-talking about these feelings of love/etc., not being what they're cracked out to be. Ultimately, he is confused in himself and this reflects in his relationships with the girl(s) he speaks of in the song.

Although the song is unbearably heart-wrenching, it is overall still an amazing song that hits you JUST right.

10/10 strongly recommend.

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11 Things Psychology Majors Hear That Drive Them Crazy

No pun intended.
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We've all been there. You're talking to a new acquaintance, or a friend of your parents, or whoever. And then, you get the dreaded question.

"So what are you studying in school?"

Cue the instant regret of picking Psychology as your major, solely for the fact that you are 99.9% likely to receive one of the slightly comical, slightly cliche, slightly annoying phrases listed below. Don't worry though, I've included some responses for you to use next time this comes up in conversation. Because it will.

Quick side note, these are all real-life remarks that I've gotten when I told people I was a psych major.

Here we go.

1. So are you, like, analyzing me right now?


Well, I wasn't. But yeah. Now I am.

2. Ugh so jealous! You picked the easy major.


"Lol" is all I have to say to this one. I'm gonna go write my 15-page paper on cognitive impairment. You have fun with your five college algebra problems, though!

3. So can you tell me what you think is wrong with me? *Shares entire life story*


Don't get me wrong; I love listening and helping people get through hard times. But we can save the story about how one time that one friend said that one slightly rude comment to you for later.

4. Well, s**t, I have to be careful what I say around you.


Relax, pal. I couldn't diagnose and/or institutionalize you even if I wanted to.

5. OMG! I have the perfect first client for you! *Proceeds to vent about ex-boyfriend or girlfriend*


Possible good response: simply nod your head the entire time, while actually secretly thinking about the Ben and Jerry's carton you're going to go home and demolish after this conversation ends.

6. So you must kind of be like, secretly insane or something to be into Psychology.


Option one: try and hide that you're offended. Option two: just go with it, throw a full-blown tantrum, and scare off this individual, thereby ending this painful conversation.

7. Oh. So you want to be a shrink?


First off, please. Stop. Calling. Therapists. Shrinks. Second, that's not a psych major's one and only job option.

8. You know you have to go to grad school if you ever want a job in Psychology.


Not completely true, for the record. But I am fully aware that I may have to spend up to seven more years of my life in school. Thanks for the friendly reminder.

9. So you... want to work with like... psychopaths?


Let's get serious and completely not-sarcastic for a second. First off, I take personal offense to this one. Having a mental illness does not classify you as a psycho, or not normal, or not deserving of being treated just like anyone else on the planet. Please stop using a handful of umbrella terms to label millions of wonderful individuals. It's not cool and not appreciated.

10. So can you, like, read my mind?


It actually might be fun to say yes to this one. Try it out and see what happens. Get back to me.

11. You must be a really emotional person to want to work in Psychology.


Psychology is more than about feeling happy, or sad, or angry. Psychology is about understanding the most complex thing to ever happen to us: our brain. How it works the way it does, why it works the way it does, and how we can better understand and communicate with this incredibly mysterious, incredibly vast organ in our tiny little skull. That's what psychology is.

So keep your head up, psychology majors, and don't let anyone discourage you about choosing, what is in my opinion, the coolest career field out there. The world needs more people like us.

Cover Image Credit: Pexels

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To Percy Jackson, I Hope You're Well...

Percy Jackson and the Olympians and the Heroes of Olympus are both series which helped shape my life. I want to share my love for them here, with you.

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Two days before I moved from New Jersey to California, I had a late night at a friend's house. Just a few miles outside of my small town of Morris Plains, his house was out of the way and a safe haven for myself and my mother during a harrowing and strenuous move. My father had been across the country already for almost two months trying to hold down his new job and prove himself. His absence was trying on me (at the tender young age of nine years old) and my mother, and we often spent time at my friend's home, as our mothers got along well.

That night came the time to say goodbye for the very last time, and as our mothers were tearfully embracing at the door, he ran up to me and shoved a book in my hands. Bewildered and confused, I tried to give him my thanks but he was already gone - running away in a childish fit that expressed his hurt at my leaving more than any words he could've said. I looked down at the book in my hands. It was a battered copy of Rick Riordan's "The Lightning Thief," with its binding bulging slightly out in a strange fashion, the cover slightly torn and bent, and quite a few pages dog-eared. The book wasn't in good condition, but I took the time to read it. I was ensnared and enchanted by the lurid descriptions of mythology, of the lovable characters of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, and the upside-down world they lived in. Over the course of the move and our eventual settling into our new California home, I devoured the series adamantly, reading "The Battle of the Labyrinth" almost five times in the fifth grade and eventually finishing out with "The Last Olympian." The series accompanied me through a difficult move and a whirlwhind of early puberty; by that time, Percy and friends I knew intimately as my own companions. When the series ended, I happily parted with it, and began other literary conquests (namely in the realm of classics).

After an almost year-long break, I re-discovered the series in sixth grade. I hadn't realized that there was a companion series to the first, in fact, a continuation - The Heroes of Olympus. I lapped up "The Lost Hero" and "The Son of Neptune" with greed, and eagerly awaited the arrival of "The Mark of Athena" the following year.

One of my most vivid memories of middle school was sneaking downstairs the morning of the Kindle release of "The Mark of Athena", sneaking past my parents' bedroom as stealthily as I could in the wee hours of the morning to get my kindle and immerse myself in the world. I believe I finished it in about two days. For the next two books in the series, I followed the same pattern: get up early, read it as fast as I could get my hands on it. "The Blood of Olympus", the last book in the series, came out in my freshman year of high school. After finishing the second series, I shelved my much-loved paperbacks for good, and turned myself to other literary pursuits. I eventually relocated to Virginia, and went to college. Percy and friends were almost forgotten until my first year at the University of Virginia.

I was devastatingly alone my first semester at university. I didn't know what to do with myself, entombed by my loneliness. However, at the bottom of my suitcase, I found my old Kindle Paperwhite, with both of Percy's series neatly installed for me. I made a resolution with myself: I would reread both series, reading only at mealtimes where I sat alone. By the time I was finished, I wanted to see where I was compared to when I started.

Re-reading the series was like coming home. It was nostalgia, sadness, and ecstasy wrapped into one. I delighted in revisiting Percy's old haunts, his friends, his challenges. However, it was sad, knowing I had grown up and left them behind while they had stayed the same. It was a riveting memory train which made me look forward to meals, and eased my loneliness at school. Gradually, as the semester progressed, I was reading on Percy's tales less and less, as I found my friends, clubs, and organizations that gradually took up more and more time.

I still haven't finished my re-read, and am about halfway through "The Blood of Olympus". I've come a long way in the almost decade since I first received that tattered copy of "The Lightning Thief", and I still have some ways to go. So thanks, Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Jason, Piper, Reyna, Nico, Frank, Hazel, Leo. Thank you for growing up with me. I'll never forget you.

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