the editors' soapbox

    This year I was really looking forward to school. I thought third time’s a charm. Freshman year I didn’t know what to expect. Sophomore year I knew what to expect and I didn’t want to come back to school, but this year I was really psyched. I spent all summer revising my schedule to take all the classes I thought were interesting, which is every class in the catalog, and I was already planning the sections of features. I was dreaming about all the provocative articles I wanted to write, and all the people I wanted to interview. Then last night I went to see “”The Banger Sisters”” and suddenly realized I’m not cool. I used to be cool. I used to hang out with bands and play guitar and sneak backstage at concerts. I hung out in lobby of radio stations and chased after tour buses. I was fun! My friends had mowhawks and tattoos, and I spent Saturday nights at the Rocky Horror Picture show.

    It’s been a long road to becoming uncool. I guess it started with AP classes, SATs and San Diego clubs that are 21 and up. The last concert I went to was Bruce Springsteen. Hello, I was three when The Boss was popular. I was the youngest person at that concert. I listen to NPR and watch CNN. When did I turn into my father? I used to beg my dad to turn off “”All things considered”” an now I’m even worse then he — I listen to “”Moneyline!””

    Now the weird thing is I actually like classes. No one is twisting my arm to be an academic. I couldn’t decide between a literature major and a critical gender studies major, so I decided on both. That was after I realized that three separate minors was excessive. But I also like rock ‘n’ roll, eating at Denny’s at five in the morning and the great feeling you get when you know you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. I could blame the over-achieving mentality all of us deal with. I could blame the strain of academia, say that because of general education requirements I had to give up my busy schedule as an aspiring groupie — but that’s not true. In fact I don’t think there is anyone to blame, so unlike many soapboxes, instead of offering a solution, an alternative view of society, I just would like to complain.

    Well, more than complaining. I just want to warn all the incoming freshman — don’t lose yourself. Be wild, drive fast, show cleavage, where leather pants, stay up late, sit on the grass and look up at the stars and if you find my former hippie-dippie self wandering around Library Walk, tell her I’ve missed her.

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