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December 07, 2004
One chance to live the college life, and forever to tell about it
Last night I had a hacky-sack party at my house and we played for a couple hours č jumping, jiving, and skidding for that little bag filled with dust. It was a good time, and I went to bed contented. Now I sit here, several hours later, in front of my computer, and I realize that however enjoyable, so many of my experiences are so mundane. I want to fly, but apparently I have been de-winged.
I wish I had better life stories to tell.
Do you know what I mean? College is supposed to be the time we fill our handbags with enough crazy antics that we will never be caught unaware when we want to show our future progeny our true hipness.
Take a look at any book or movie about college-age people and you will see that apparently we are all missing out on the game. While we move steadily along, like rats in a maze slowly working toward the peanut-buttery saltine of a career (one the CDC will be pleased to lay before us), our fictional counterparts are changing the world. They are cliff-diving of the coast of Mozambique in suits of armor, thwarting international crime syndicates with only sarcasm and pop-culture knowledge, and stealing disgusting and dangerous fraternity mascots to create a campus petting zoo.
This last one couldn’t happen at Hamline č I think Theta Chi’s last four mascots have died from lack of attention (i.e., members forgetting they had a mascot, but remembering all the stats for a level-12 baby orange dragon).
When was the last time you painted an old tricycle all the colors of the rainbow, decked it out with a lawnmower engine and a makeshift sail, and took off for a solo tour of the American southwest?
Yeah, I didn’t think so. Neither have I č but doesn’t it sound like the makings of the next great 194-page coming-of-age novel?
When was the last time you took college hijinx to the level of intensity that only a justice of the peace would be able to determine whether or not it was “just a little fun” or “hooliganism”?
Again, not a chance. Some of us feel like villains if we climb on the roof of a building and watch the security guards walk around ... um, let’s move on.
Hell, when was the last time you stood up in the middle of the lecture of a self-possessed Ivy League don and poured out your freshman (with incoming AP credits, of course) soul, amid the dawning cheers of your fellow academic debutantes?
Even though Hamline is the “Harvard of the Midwest,” I doubt this will ever really happen č maybe someone will make a fuss, and then people will wake up just long enough to badmouth them for disturbing the touchy flow and tender concerns of Introduction to Theatre Arts or General Philosophy.
Here’s something I have realized: These kinds of things never happen. But you know what? In 20 years, you will wish they had. You will wish you had more stories to tell than “Remember that time we went out that bar, the one down on Marshall ... Yeah, with the darts ... Anyway, you remember that guy was like:
‘Whoa, I’m f-ed up,’ but he didn’t say ‘f-ed,’ he said the real thing?”
Yep č pretty fricking lame, but cherish these memories, because they are all that you will have. Revel in your late-night Perkins runs and your growing disgust with same. Keep that ratty scarf and fedora tucked away; pull them out on weekends and go down and hang out at the coffee shop by the local college. Sit and talk with the youth.
And make something up about when you were in college - I know I will.
Posted by msveum at December 7, 2004 11:12 AM