Saturday, January 12, 2008
Ten Things I Learned In My First Semester Of College: Number 4—Frat Chances: How My Thinking On Fraternities Changed
(Currently under revision...will be back up soon)
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Ten Things I Learned In My First Semester Of College: Number 5—Procrastination Sweeping The Nation
How fitting a title for a post where I must admit that my lethargy this break will keep me from finishing this series before I begin my second semester! Oh well; we will forge on anyway.
It’s funny—a relief, in a way—how my college turned out to be different from what I expected. Knowing that I was entering an environment with a higher average level of intellect than what I was used to, I assumed that most people would have the go-get-‘em attitude, and that I would be in a minority, engaged in a vicious struggle against my laziness and my tendency to put things off. Somewhat happily, a high number of really, really sharp students is not mutually exclusive with a high number of students who have made high art of procrastination as I have in my academic career. There are many similarly lethargic souls around me, so it has turned out that group-procrastination is a favorite activity ‘round these parts. Dear readers, I give you a few examples.
Longboarding: My neighbor, a unique fellow of the Long Island (or “Strong” Island, as some would have us mainland-American folk believe) persuasion, brought a longboard (a longer version of the skateboard, built for speed, rather than kick-flipping and whirly-gigging capabilities) to school, but soon discovered that it is against state law to ride it anywhere except inside a skate-park (where only the whirly-giggers are useful). So he resorted to riding it to and fro down our hall. We joined in, and the fellows all had a good laugh when I took a turn, nearly falling over, legs wobbling, arms flailing. Unfortunately, it also turned out to be verboten to ride in the halls, so our fun was ended on that front.
Hall Monkey-In-The-Middle: One night a few weeks before we departed for Christmas break, someone brandished a small rubber SuperBall. What followed was an intense, rousing game of monkey-in-the-middle down the length of the hall. Now you may be thinking, dear readers, that the small size of the ball would make it nearly impossible for the monkey to catch it. But, this was also true of the receiver, and the bounce-back wreaked havoc on all parties involved. We stretched the ball to its physical limits, and the game ended prematurely with a scuffle for the ball resulting in its destruction.
Poker: We went through a brief phase where we all signed up for Pokerstars.net and went to the same table. Audible shouts of profanity echoed through the hall—most of them from a character who hails from Atlanta—at the end of most every hand. Never mind that we were squandering valuable potential study-time; there was fake money to win and lose!
As refreshing as it is to know that I am not the only serial procrastinator around here, it is a shame to see the toll it takes on some. My heart drops a bit whenever I hear talk of Adderall—a drug given to ADD/ADHD sufferers—being used by stressed-out students needing to pull and all-nighter in order to finish a book. I saw a friend of mine in the dining hall once, and he looked terribly exhausted: red bags under widely open eyes, slightly frazzled hair, faster tempo of voice than usual. Evidently, he needed to read an entire book and write an essay on it, all in the space of one night. He got it done, bless him, but at what cost? Taking a drug that was not meant for him--a boy of sound, sharp mind—was quite a risk. It’s not a good practice to engage in—taking such a drug can form a habit with potentially damaging result. No grade is worth such possible damage to one’s body, but unfortunately, with the absurd over-diagnosis of ADD/ADHD in this country, drugs like Ritalin and Adderall are becoming easier and easier to procure. We’re headed for bad consequences if people are not careful and practical, forgoing a night of partying in order to work on an assignment that needs more attention than that of a night.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed by work at the time you read this, please stop, close your browser, and get right on that assignment. I’ll be here on the Internet while you do what’s important.
Happy studying.
No lyrical selection this evening.
It’s funny—a relief, in a way—how my college turned out to be different from what I expected. Knowing that I was entering an environment with a higher average level of intellect than what I was used to, I assumed that most people would have the go-get-‘em attitude, and that I would be in a minority, engaged in a vicious struggle against my laziness and my tendency to put things off. Somewhat happily, a high number of really, really sharp students is not mutually exclusive with a high number of students who have made high art of procrastination as I have in my academic career. There are many similarly lethargic souls around me, so it has turned out that group-procrastination is a favorite activity ‘round these parts. Dear readers, I give you a few examples.
Longboarding: My neighbor, a unique fellow of the Long Island (or “Strong” Island, as some would have us mainland-American folk believe) persuasion, brought a longboard (a longer version of the skateboard, built for speed, rather than kick-flipping and whirly-gigging capabilities) to school, but soon discovered that it is against state law to ride it anywhere except inside a skate-park (where only the whirly-giggers are useful). So he resorted to riding it to and fro down our hall. We joined in, and the fellows all had a good laugh when I took a turn, nearly falling over, legs wobbling, arms flailing. Unfortunately, it also turned out to be verboten to ride in the halls, so our fun was ended on that front.
Hall Monkey-In-The-Middle: One night a few weeks before we departed for Christmas break, someone brandished a small rubber SuperBall. What followed was an intense, rousing game of monkey-in-the-middle down the length of the hall. Now you may be thinking, dear readers, that the small size of the ball would make it nearly impossible for the monkey to catch it. But, this was also true of the receiver, and the bounce-back wreaked havoc on all parties involved. We stretched the ball to its physical limits, and the game ended prematurely with a scuffle for the ball resulting in its destruction.
Poker: We went through a brief phase where we all signed up for Pokerstars.net and went to the same table. Audible shouts of profanity echoed through the hall—most of them from a character who hails from Atlanta—at the end of most every hand. Never mind that we were squandering valuable potential study-time; there was fake money to win and lose!
As refreshing as it is to know that I am not the only serial procrastinator around here, it is a shame to see the toll it takes on some. My heart drops a bit whenever I hear talk of Adderall—a drug given to ADD/ADHD sufferers—being used by stressed-out students needing to pull and all-nighter in order to finish a book. I saw a friend of mine in the dining hall once, and he looked terribly exhausted: red bags under widely open eyes, slightly frazzled hair, faster tempo of voice than usual. Evidently, he needed to read an entire book and write an essay on it, all in the space of one night. He got it done, bless him, but at what cost? Taking a drug that was not meant for him--a boy of sound, sharp mind—was quite a risk. It’s not a good practice to engage in—taking such a drug can form a habit with potentially damaging result. No grade is worth such possible damage to one’s body, but unfortunately, with the absurd over-diagnosis of ADD/ADHD in this country, drugs like Ritalin and Adderall are becoming easier and easier to procure. We’re headed for bad consequences if people are not careful and practical, forgoing a night of partying in order to work on an assignment that needs more attention than that of a night.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed by work at the time you read this, please stop, close your browser, and get right on that assignment. I’ll be here on the Internet while you do what’s important.
Happy studying.
No lyrical selection this evening.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Ten Things I Learned In My First Semester Of College: Number 6—Pranks For The Memories and Other Tales
One of the main parts of “The Freshman Experience,” it appears, is experiencing and becoming familiar with various ways in which fellow young adult males occupy themselves in times of boredom. A small college tends to bring together people from all parts of the country and world. Naturally, there is bound to be an exchange of ideas, especially ideas on silly feats of mind and body. Allow me to briefly discuss some useful experiences I’ve had with this phenomenon.
Gold Bond: A few days before we departed for Christmas break, this powder figured prominently into the events of one evening. One member of the Hall complained of “Batwing,” a phenomenon I’d never heard of. I am always reluctant to introduce vulgar concepts into this blog because there’s enough of that going around, but in the interest of clarity, I must explain—for those who are unfamiliar as I was—that “Batwing” is when a boy’s scrotum sticks to his leg due to heat, etc. Apparently, Gold Bond is a splendid cure for this condition. Anyway, someone near me borrowed some Gold Bond from another in order to alleviate himself of some groin-based discomfort. Being the easy target and brunt of all shenanigans, mine seemed like the logical door on which to expel some of this powder. Sadly, a bug, drunk Californian—full, also, of hookah vapors—stumbled onto the scene. He snatched up the Gold Bond container, and unleashed about a third of the bottle with a mighty squeeze. Care to guess where it all ended up? Yes, you’re correct, dear readers. It went all over my room. I spent portions of the next few days cleaning up whatever tiny snowdrift piles of the stuff I could find. Unfortunately, I know that I wasn’t able to get it all; spots of Gold Bond still dot the unreachable crevices of my room. It will very likely be the first smell I encounter when I re-enter my dorm room in two nights’ time.
Big Red: Apparently it’s a rite of passage to endure a few minutes’ pain by removing the wrapper from a piece of Big Red Cinnamon gum, licking said wrapper, and sticking it to one’s forehead. According to the tribe of males known as the Freshmen, one must endure a few minutes of pain from the Big Red wrapper in order to gain the respect and admiration of one’s peers. Like walking on hot coals, embarking on a vision quest, or circumcision, it’s something one must do, evidently. I guess I too will have to endure it sometime in the coming weeks.
No lyrical selection this evening.
Gold Bond: A few days before we departed for Christmas break, this powder figured prominently into the events of one evening. One member of the Hall complained of “Batwing,” a phenomenon I’d never heard of. I am always reluctant to introduce vulgar concepts into this blog because there’s enough of that going around, but in the interest of clarity, I must explain—for those who are unfamiliar as I was—that “Batwing” is when a boy’s scrotum sticks to his leg due to heat, etc. Apparently, Gold Bond is a splendid cure for this condition. Anyway, someone near me borrowed some Gold Bond from another in order to alleviate himself of some groin-based discomfort. Being the easy target and brunt of all shenanigans, mine seemed like the logical door on which to expel some of this powder. Sadly, a bug, drunk Californian—full, also, of hookah vapors—stumbled onto the scene. He snatched up the Gold Bond container, and unleashed about a third of the bottle with a mighty squeeze. Care to guess where it all ended up? Yes, you’re correct, dear readers. It went all over my room. I spent portions of the next few days cleaning up whatever tiny snowdrift piles of the stuff I could find. Unfortunately, I know that I wasn’t able to get it all; spots of Gold Bond still dot the unreachable crevices of my room. It will very likely be the first smell I encounter when I re-enter my dorm room in two nights’ time.
Big Red: Apparently it’s a rite of passage to endure a few minutes’ pain by removing the wrapper from a piece of Big Red Cinnamon gum, licking said wrapper, and sticking it to one’s forehead. According to the tribe of males known as the Freshmen, one must endure a few minutes of pain from the Big Red wrapper in order to gain the respect and admiration of one’s peers. Like walking on hot coals, embarking on a vision quest, or circumcision, it’s something one must do, evidently. I guess I too will have to endure it sometime in the coming weeks.
No lyrical selection this evening.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Ten Things I Learned In My First Semester Of College: Number 7—Drugs, Man
Anyone who knows me knows that I am unfalteringly conservative when it comes to foreign substances. A caffeine in a Dr. Pepper is about as “crazy” a substance as I ever intend to enter my body in any meaningful quantity. This means that I am in the minority in my convictions, but I’m okay with it. Unlike many people who don’t drink/smoke/whatever, I try not to look down on those who do. I see every action as the product of a calculated risk. Some can justify so-called “risky behaviors,” but I’m just not that bold.
As a college freshman living in a dorm, I have seen, heard, and smelled some interesting things. One such experience was on the evening of the 2008 Mock Convention Gala. I didn’t attend said gala, so I was shooting the breeze with a few fellows in the Lounge, when a few tuxedo-clad gents stumbled in, giggling and whooping madly. They soon announced that they were “tripping the f*ck out on ‘shrooms,” and wondered if we’d like to join them in the library (apparently looking at rows of things makes the trip all the more intense…who knew?). We politely declined.
Another drug that unfortunately seems to have a significant place at my college is cocaine. Every so often I hear murmurs about people using it, which is very sad to me. I know a few people whose lives (not to mention their families’ lives) have been ruined by it. And why? For a few momentary escapes from reality. Ridiculous, any way you slice it.
(I know that what I just said probably won’t make a damned bit of difference, but hopefully those of you who agree with me will come up with ways to say this more profoundly and convincingly than I can.)
And then we come to the ubiquitous illegal drug: marijuana. Mary Jane. Weed. Pot. No thanks.
It’s like the 1960s all over again, for goodness’ sakes (so I’m told…no, contrary to popular belief, I am not a 60 year old in an 18 year old body)! It’s…interesting, to say the least…to see people breaking a law with such abandon. It never fails to remind me of how I’m wired a bit differently from many others, for better or worse.
Tonight’s lyrical selection: “Cocaine,” by Jackson Browne.
“You take Sally and I'll take Sue
There ain't no difference between the two
Cocaine, running all 'round my brain
Headin' down Scott, turnin' up Main
Looking for that girl that sells cocaine
Cocaine, runnin' all 'round my brain
Late last night about a quarter past four
Ladanyi come knockin' down my hotel room door
Where's the cocaine--
It's runnin' all 'round my brain
I was talking to my doctor down at the hospital
He said, "Son, it says here you're twenty-seven,
But that's impossible
Cocaine-- you look like you could be forty-five"
Now I'm losing touch with reality and I'm almost out of blow
It's such a fine line-- I hate to see it go
Cocaine, runnin' all 'round my brain…”
As a college freshman living in a dorm, I have seen, heard, and smelled some interesting things. One such experience was on the evening of the 2008 Mock Convention Gala. I didn’t attend said gala, so I was shooting the breeze with a few fellows in the Lounge, when a few tuxedo-clad gents stumbled in, giggling and whooping madly. They soon announced that they were “tripping the f*ck out on ‘shrooms,” and wondered if we’d like to join them in the library (apparently looking at rows of things makes the trip all the more intense…who knew?). We politely declined.
Another drug that unfortunately seems to have a significant place at my college is cocaine. Every so often I hear murmurs about people using it, which is very sad to me. I know a few people whose lives (not to mention their families’ lives) have been ruined by it. And why? For a few momentary escapes from reality. Ridiculous, any way you slice it.
(I know that what I just said probably won’t make a damned bit of difference, but hopefully those of you who agree with me will come up with ways to say this more profoundly and convincingly than I can.)
And then we come to the ubiquitous illegal drug: marijuana. Mary Jane. Weed. Pot. No thanks.
It’s like the 1960s all over again, for goodness’ sakes (so I’m told…no, contrary to popular belief, I am not a 60 year old in an 18 year old body)! It’s…interesting, to say the least…to see people breaking a law with such abandon. It never fails to remind me of how I’m wired a bit differently from many others, for better or worse.
Tonight’s lyrical selection: “Cocaine,” by Jackson Browne.
“You take Sally and I'll take Sue
There ain't no difference between the two
Cocaine, running all 'round my brain
Headin' down Scott, turnin' up Main
Looking for that girl that sells cocaine
Cocaine, runnin' all 'round my brain
Late last night about a quarter past four
Ladanyi come knockin' down my hotel room door
Where's the cocaine--
It's runnin' all 'round my brain
I was talking to my doctor down at the hospital
He said, "Son, it says here you're twenty-seven,
But that's impossible
Cocaine-- you look like you could be forty-five"
Now I'm losing touch with reality and I'm almost out of blow
It's such a fine line-- I hate to see it go
Cocaine, runnin' all 'round my brain…”
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