Repent, heed the end of days (DTH Opinion Column -- Cries from the Peanut Gallery)

The trees are breeding, the tour groups are in full swarm and the academic end times are upon us. I don't have my cap and gown yet, but I already feel that sickly mix of dread and apathy that means our time has come. And sure enough, there's less than a month until roughly a quarter of us ride off in the hellish chariot of post-graduate life, pulled by a hairy mutant beast out of Revelations and sponsored by Career Services.

But while I'm basking and baking in my own apathy, twiddling my thumbs as I await the four horsemen of the collegiate apocalypse (senioritis, last goodbyes, unemployment and alcohol abuse), I figured I'd take stock of my four years here and see how things are looking (generally not well is the answer).

After cleaning up trash, vacuuming under everything and bleaching a couple of surfaces, I think I managed to make something useful out of the greasy clutter that constitutes my four most recent years of existence. Here's a couple of life lessons I've managed to scrounge up (and when I say "scrounge," I really mean "scrounge"):

1. "Hammocking is not permitted in the Arboretum" is something people will tell you from time to time, but I put it in quotes just now because do it anyway. Nature was meant to be (respectfully) lived in, not jealously guarded like a Lego model of the Death Star.

2. Burritos are tasty but gross to eat, grosser to throw and grossest to have thrown at you. But still tasty.

3. Once you've died of deep, soul-killing embarrassment at least once, you're pretty much immortal as far as dignity is concerned. All it took for me was a motley crew of cops and librarians gawking at me in the UL at four in the morning as I held a cardiac event recorder up to the phone for about five minutes and let it loudly beep, deedle and whirr its signals through the mouthpiece like a cyborg E.T. quite literally phoning home (we've all been there before).

Now I roam the earth like an untouchable spirit, numbly making a fool out of myself like Hamlet's dad or Bruce Willis in "The Sixth Sense," freely expressing myself and making myself felt and heard, but largely unconcerned with how people might judge me or my actions. So just be yourself, you know?

4. Learning can be like, fun and stuff.

5. There's no limit to how many library books you can check out! My personal record is 70. ("Overdue fees" get their own column in my monthly budget.)

6. Young adults at the average age of graduation are still at high risk for serious mental illnesses like schizophrenia!

No big surprise there though. We've made it through four years of routinized stress and mental trauma just in time to be flung out into the unstructured void thereafter and expected to cobble together a meaningful existence with nothing but hope, rubber bands and a liberal arts education.

So yeah, support systems are good. Also deep breaths! Take a lot of them.


http://www.dailytarheel.com/article/2014/04/column-repent-heed-the-end-of-days

Driving and/or Sleeping (LCM Bell Tower April 2014)

Between the hot Miami sun, the endless hours of traffic among those unpredictable, irrational animals we call "Florida drivers," and the tremendous amount of time, energy, and effort everyone put into every task over the course of our time in Miami, it was a pretty long week -- and we all felt the strain.

How could I tell? Well, just about every time we sat in the car for longer than 20 minutes (so every time we sat in the car), just about everyone would start to drift off to sleep immediately. People's bodies would notice the lapse in activity and immediately demand a few minutes of deep hibernation, and one way or another they'd be sufficiently recharged to go bounding enthusiastically into the next activity. (Some people's bodies were more susceptible than others to the whole "crash headlong into an impenetrable nap without a moment's notice" thing. (i.e., Kathleen. I'm talking about Kathleen.))

But of course, I happened to be one of the four drivers for this spring break, so I got to be the one jamming to tunez in the front and making fun of the sleepers in the back whenever I needed to bury my envy and exhaustion in a corny joke or two.

As the driver, however, I had a lot of extra time for quiet reflection. When I wasn't brooding about my navigator's song selections or idly wondering how long I could go without another coffee, I thought about the people dozing behind me. In spite of all the tiring work, all the hiccups, setbacks, and confusions, and the sleep schedule that got gradually more irresponsible as the week went on, the positivity never ceased to be astounding. They drifted off to sleep every chance they got, then bounced back into action, smiling and ready to do whatever was required, whether that was manual labor, sharing, or simply just listening.

Maybe Putin needs a hug (DTH opinion column -- Cries from the Peanut Gallery)

What's the difference between Vladimir Putin and a chicken trying to cross the road?

Well let's see. They're both conscious, semi-rational social creatures like myself, struggling their way through this crazy world and doing the best they can with what they have. But the chicken seems like someone I could get along with, while I most decidedly would not enjoy getting stuck in a ski lift with Putin.

And why is that? That "different species" thing could make establishing a meaningful rapport with the chicken a little challenging (and we can go ahead and forget about communicating any ideas more complex than "Look, food!"). But with Putin I'd be too busy stifling the aggressive Hitler jokes in my head to manage a conversation. The moral dilemma would be a little distracting -- because he's evil, right? But what does that entail?

Evil is like a good joke. We love it because it's simple, because it makes everything so easy -- it is what it is, and all we have to do is voice our hatred for it or laugh until we hurt ourselves. Comedy and moral absolutes give us relief because we don't have to think, and if there's one thing we college students have good reason to be tired of, it's thinking.

And just like jokes, evil is subjective. Not everyone's going to agree on what qualifies as "funny" or "Satan-esque." (I might be disgusted by Carlos Mencia, Dane Cook or former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, but you might just think I'm oversensitive and full of crap -- because what's a few crimes against humanity in a war against communism? Whatever.)

Of course that's not to say there isn't any sort of universal moral standard for assessing these claims, just as there might not be any universal barometer of "funny," but that's not the problem.

Whether evil for you is Putin, Dick Cheney, terrorists or anti-abortion activists who insist on comparing abortion to genocide and shoving graphic images in your face, that's valid.

But just like jokes, evil is ruined the moment someone explains it. The mechanics that made the joke funny or set up the circumstances for evil to happen are revealed in an instant like the paunchy dimwit behind the Wizard of Oz -- and the magic is gone.

The joke is lifeless and formulaic, not the vivid burst of spontaneity it was a moment before. And now the evil is the result of a terrible string of random existential circumstances, plus the occasional misplaced moral conviction or childhood trauma (trauma here meaning anything from malnutrition and lead exposure to a profound lack of hugs).

For jokes, I humbly suggest we learn to live in ignorance. For evil, however, it'd probably be best if we keep trying to understand. We don't have to condone it, obviously, but a little sympathy might help move us toward a consensus.

And if that ski lift scenario ever pans out, maybe I'll be able to have an impact! But at the very least I'd have an epic selfie opportunity. 



http://www.dailytarheel.com/article/2014/04/col-0403