I grew up on heavy-handed medical dramas that invariably ended every episode with a voiceover spewing generic advice disguised as profound wisdom. I mention this because I have to fight to urge to type a cheesy generic wrap-up column for the final issue of the semester.
Stories By Evan Dodd
This is a column about the worst loss a college student can face.
Having grown weary of his complex role as gatekeeper to all of my most important memories, an occasional coaster and door prop, my laptop Reginald spontaneously combusted early this Sunday.
As I sliced the majority of my fingers open trying to scrape the diamond-like ice from my windshield this morning, I realized something. This place is awful.
I’ll level with you here: A good number of these columns require a small bit of embellishment. It’s nothing huge, but some stories just need a bit of exaggeration to be worth printing. This story, however, isn’t able to hide behind the guise of artistic license. I only wish I was lying about spending Halloween surrounded by trash, cracker crumbs and a very old dog.
If you’ve followed my last few columns (just nod and smile, I need this) then it’s becoming fairly obvious that I’m starting to panic.
Suddenly I’ve found myself on the back half of the four-year plan I’m expected to complete, and the pre-graduation panic is setting in. Halfway through mapping out my schedule for spring semester I had a friend glance over my shoulder and incredulously ask, “What in the hell are you even majoring in?”
We all enrolled in college to get jobs.
Also because we had no idea what to do next and just followed the nearest societal expectation in the hopes that it would pay off. Mostly it was the “jobs” bit that brought us to this point though. This is incredibly unsettling considering that most lectures in my business courses revolve around the fact that the job market for recent grads is about as healthy as Nic Cage’s career.
Let me clear up any confusion you might have. This is not a holiday I’m thrilled about experiencing.
The fact that you’re reading a Halloween column a good week and a half before the candy corn apocalypse hits is just further proof I want to hurry up and get it over with. If only October was as efficient as February and ended three days earlier, so I could just skip the entire debacle.
Midterms are hell. You know it. I know it. There’s really no reason to reiterate a topic that 90 percent of these columns reference in one way or another.
That being said, the cumulative stress of midterms couple with the last dying gasps of fall have convinced me that I need to find a few new winter hobbies.
October is a month of shifting expectations. Midterms always seem to come weeks before you’re ready for them, the PFD gives you just enough money to make you spend recklessly and that “easy” class you’ve been ditching since week two has suddenly become an insurmountable challenge.
I suppose in retrospect there were a few distinct signs I failed to notice.
It started with the sickness — some dark cloud of plague that drifted over campus, infecting all in its path. The halls, once filled with inquiring minds, were lined with the sick and feeble, and the parking lots were strewn with debris from the ongoing apocalypse.
I’m not big on public service announcements. Something about the idea of a “one size fits all” piece of wisdom has always struck me as monotonous and insincere.
On TNL’s website last week, I promised you all a heroic action column. Now, assuming you’ve all significantly lowered your standards for the words “action” and “heroic,” I’m ready to deliver.
I thought I’d share a few bite-sized observations from my first week back that you can superficially skim during your horribly rerouted shuttle rides between classes.
I’m not ready for this. I don’t mean that in some grand symbolic sense, like when Luke wasn’t ready to confront Darth Vader or when Rocky wasn’t ready to punch a frozen cow for an hour and a half. (Admittedly I have a dim memory of that movie.) No, I mean the fall semester has […]