Auspicious Objects

In my last post, I briefly mentioned – in polite and fair terms, I think – that I have a great hatred for student dailies published and distributed on college campuses. Now, before I go any further, I will preface that this is entirely directed at the newspapers made on campuses I’ve studied at; obviously, there are many more student publications out there that I have never read, and, although I certainly could read many of them thanks to the proliferation of the internet, I don’t have that much free time on my hands (but since you’re reading this blog that I waste my free time writing, you already know that’s a total lie). The most I venture outside of my small Wisconsin world is pointing my web browser to IvyGate, and while they certainly do their share of ragging on student publications, I’ve still heard that The Daily Pennsylvanian is quite good.

My discontent with students wasting paper goes all the way back (read: less than four years) to my high school days, when our school’s newly-instituted student paper had an illustrious run amounting to about one school year. I honestly don’t remember anything about the paper (not even it’s name), save that the only column anyone enjoyed reading was Heap of the Month (yes, so little happened at our school that the paper was published monthly), where a student would detail the idiosyncrasies and deficiencies with their car. The writer of the column was not gifted with expressive language (you can’t fault him/her though; this was high school after all), but the humor of the situation nevertheless shined through. The paper ceased production my senior year, although no specific reason was given. It probably had something to do with the general laziness of high school students, our school population’s collected loathing of the teacher who oversaw the paper’s production, and the fact that the paper was terrible in every regard. I’m not saying that we should hold high school newspapers to high journalistic standards, but the very least they could have done was prevent it from being little more than a sheet of biased gossip – which is exactly what it became.

But that’s all in the past. We can’t expect a team of high school students looking to pad their college applications to write Pulitzer Prize material, but isn’t it reasonable to demand that a team of college students – who are, for the most part, majoring in journalism – rise above those high school inclinations towards biased, emotionally charged, and/or narcissistic writing? Apparently that’s asking too much. Here I would normally insert a quip about no one caring about this problem because of no one reading the papers, but I know that’s not true; every college campus I’ve been to is populated with students reading their school’s publication(s), and every college campus I’ve been to also has a problem with students discarding issues of the student newspaper on the ground rather than in proper trash receptacles. Obviously, people are reading the papers, and that’s also part of the problem. If a good portion of the student body is reading the student newspaper and simply shrugging off the numerous flaws on the printed page, they are doing nothing to advocate change. Also, the staff of the paper take notice of how many people around campus are reading their work, and their ego automatically inflates itself.

If student newspapers are so bad, though, why are students reading them? The answer is simple, especially if you are or have ever been a college student: boredom. If you have some time in between classes, reading a newspaper – regardless of it’s quality – is a good way to kill time. When I was a student at Point, I had a small gap of time in between my philosophy class and psychology class, which I would regrettably spend reading The Pointer. Even just hearing that name makes me livid to this day. I’ve already said this publicly, and I don’t mind throwing it out again: The Pointer is an absolute piece of garbage. It was before, and it is now. I know that it still has a chance for redemption, as do all student newspapers; we just have to wait for the paper staff to completely change as current members graduate and move on (hopefully not to a career in journalism). The problem, of course, is that the staff does not completely turnover all at once, and this gives current staff time to corrupt new staff and bully them into conforming to shitty journalistic standards. It’s a vicious cycle.

So, why do I loathe The Pointer as much as I do? The biggest problem they have had for the past few years is a completely obvious bias towards the Student Government Association; the two are practically in bed together. For the entirety of the 2008-2009 school year, every week’s front page was either entirely dominated by a cover story detailing some SGA affair, or at the very least, featured a quote from an SGA official on a topic that had nothing to do with SGA. Why would this be the case? As it turns out, many of the current staff have served on SGA at some point in time or have friends in SGA. Look, you’ve got to at least try to maintain a neutral viewpoint when you’re a journalist. My friend Scott Asbach is now the president of SGA. Hypothetically, if I were a journalist for The Pointer and I had to be critical about something stupid SGA did, I wouldn’t hold back, because it wouldn’t be about Scott and I as friends, it would be about Scott and I as SGA president and journalist, respectively. Save your feelings for the op-ed page, where they belong.

Sadly, The Pointer has proven time and time again that they are very bad at maintaining a neutral viewpoint, and this deficiency can be felt even in the executive editorial decisions of the paper. Last year, UWSP suffered the tragic death of a student on-campus. Instead of doing some actual journalism and writing the in-depth article the situation was worthy of, Pointer staff member Justin Glodowski slapped together some official details sloppily and included a quote that sounds like it came from the first person he found anywhere near Thomson Hall:

“I had only met Andrew a few times during the semester, so I couldn’t really call him a good friend of mine because I barely knew him, but he was a nice guy every time I did see him. I know he had a bright future ahead of him and it’s sad his life was taken so soon,” said Ashley Tabaka.

Thanks for that, Ashley. You really offered some insightful perspective into Andrew’s life. Now just stick that quote in between a few paragraphs poorly rephrasing the official coroner’s report, and Justin is out of the office by five. But wait, let’s not be too harsh on our friend Justin just yet! He is the same guy who wrote this article – which took up the front page of the paper – about a former student at UWSP who went missing in California. It even has pictures! But why would we give so much more attention to an alumni who went missing on the other end of the country from Point’s campus? If you guessed that it was because she had friends in SGA, you are growing wise to the ways of The Pointer. Like most articles in the paper last year, this one starts with a quote from Katie Kloth, then-president of SGA. I’m not saying this shouldn’t warrant press coverage – certainly the disappearance of a person is tragic and important – but the imbalance of coverage between these two events is not only unprofessional, it’s downright insulting.

The Pointer has cleaned up it’s act a little bit this year, revamping it’s front page design and losing some of the SGA love (though I’m not sure if that’s due to a change in writing staff or a change in SGA presidency), but it’s still not as good as it could – nay, should – be. I am not quite sure what is holding it back, but I think it may have something to do with the person who wrote the worst student newspaper article ever now running the paper. Go ahead, click on that link, read that article, and I defy you to not shake your head in the process. There is no substance to it whatsoever. It does not even attempt to masquerade as journalism. It’s simply naval-gazing of the lowest form published in the completely wrong medium (it should be on blogs like this, if anywhere), and nothing more. My favorite quote:

I chose to write with a pen name because of the high profile I hold on campus.

It makes me laugh because this “high profile” is largely self-imagined (as I can tell you from being on campus when this was written), and perfectly sums up the vein, narcissistic nature of many college journalists. I have a lot more to say on this subject – and really, I think I could go on for days – but I’m getting way too angry to continue, so I’ll just leave you with that.

Next time (if there is a next time) on “Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Klug!“, we’ll look at sex columnists, Burnellgate, terrible attempts at impersonating The Onion, crappy newspaper comics, and we’ll also take shots at both The Daily Cardinal and The Badger Herald. Oh boy.

Surely You're Joking, Mr. Klug! anger, college, idiocy, wisconsin

As Sean Connery once learned the hard way, you should never say never, no matter how implausible or preposterous a hypothetical situation sounds. My mom, who works at an elementary school, called me on Tuesday night to rub it in my face, like she does every year, that the school district had a snow day called for the next day. Being in college, of course, I was not expecting to have all of my classes canceled merely because of bad weather. When I was a freshman, school ended early one day due to dangerously low temperatures, but by the time the announcement of class cancellation was made, it was already 4 pm. I had never before heard any stories of a college snow day, and I did not believe in their existence anywhere.

But there is a first time for everything.

My esteemed colleague Matt (whom you may know from his acting career in short films or from certain podcasts) asked to borrow my mixing equipment for a school project, so I walked down the street to his apartment, expecting to stay for only an hour or two; after all, I still had homework to finish before the next day. While I was over, another friend texted me, certifying the unthinkable: We were going to have a snow day. Now in a celebratory mood, and with newly extended deadlines to finish that homework by, Matt and I cracked open some beverages from Point Brewery and enjoyed an absolutely terrible film starring Dolph Lundgren (I know, I know, it’s redundant to put the words “Dolph Lundgren” and “terrible film” in the same sentence) entitled Dark Angel (alternatively I Come In Peace). It’s basically an early ’90s action film about an alien from outer space who comes to earth and says “I come in peace” before injecting random innocents with a lethal dose of heroin and then sucking endorphins out of their head. It’s almost as good as Showdown in Little Tokyo, another Dolph Lundgren classic. After the credits rolled on that cinematic masterpiece, we decided to hit the snow-filled streets at midnight on foot.

The weather, although inclement, was unusually comfortable for a Wisconsin winter; it was not too cold outside, and there was almost no wind. Although the streets were eerily quiet and devoid of life (even for midnight on a Tuesday evening), it didn’t take long before we stumbled upon a group of strangers crafting large snowmen in the parking lot across the street from my apartment building. We observed right away that the snow already on the ground was perfect for packing, easily allowing for the creation of perfectly symmetrical snowmen and giant snowballs.

While the atmosphere of camaraderie felt good, we decided to move on, as 1) people were only marveling at the snowmen they had already made, not creating new ones, and 2) no one was talking to us anyway. So we headed up towards the lake and onto Langdon Street, the “Greek row” of the campus. Before we had even gotten close to the epicenter of action, we could already hear the sound of people yelling, cheering, and just making noise in general. As we got closer, we saw large crowds on either side of the street hurling snowballs at each other.

It almost felt like a war zone. People did not seem good-natured about their artillery firing, but instead rather malicious, as though they really wanted to hurt someone on the other side of the street. This impression was confirmed when a guy emerged from the crowd and ran up to Matt and I. He tried to sway us to his cause with this utterance: “Look, I don’t know if you guys hate Sigma Chi or not, but FUCK THEM! Help us hit their flag!” After we feigned interest and told him we would help him, he seemed appeased and quickly ran away, probably to “persuade” more neutral parties. Sigma Chi is best-known on campus for things other than philanthropic work, but I myself am neutral in my opinion of them, because I don’t really care about Greek life – unless, of course, we’re talking about PCU (great movie, by the way). Since the environment was so hostile, we decided to move on and head towards the center of campus. Neither of us had experienced the traditional snow festivities on Bascom Hill, and there was no better night to see what it was all about.

Luckily, Bascom Hill was a lot more fun to be at than Langdon Street, as everyone was just out to have a good time, not pelt a frat house with tightly-packed snow projectiles. All along the hill people were engaged in a light-hearted snowball fight, and thankfully, sticking to the sidewalks on either side of the hill ensured you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to try that college tradition of tray-sledding for the first time, using an abandoned tray Matt had picked up while we were on Langdon. In spite of Bascom Hill being frighteningly steep, there was too much friction on the sidewalk for the tray to slide effortlessly, and I ended up doing that pathetic motion where you try to give yourself momentum by scooting on the “sled.” But still, I can now at least say that I tried tray-sledding.

My fingers started to get bitterly cold, so we made our way away from campus and back home, but not before stopping for some Silvermine Subs at 1:30 in the morning, which were delicious, as expected. It was especially entertaining to watch people pelt each other with snowballs right outside of the restaurant the entire time we were eating. Matt and I got back to his apartment at 2 AM, and, after watching some episodes of QI and Look Around You, finished a successful evening up with warm apple cider and Christmas music courtesy of Pandora Radio. We also went outside again to help a girl park her car in the snow. Since her car battery was dead, however, there was more pushing than parking going on, and even though the car was still sticking out into the street when we were finished, one of the other good Samaritans who helped pointed out, “if someone manages to hit your car in this weather, they’re just a douchebag.” I can think of no better situation to illustrate human kindness than a couple of dudes helping a damsel-in-distress with her car troubles at 4 AM on a snowy Wisconsin street. Even after witnessing incident after incident that evening of hateful snowball throwing and gratuitous use of homophobic slurs, this philanthropic act left me with hope for the human race. Snow days help bring people together.

Side Note: Although I am often very critical of The Badger Herald (as I am with other student newspapers), writer Carolyn Briggs penned a nice front-page article today about the annual snowball fight on Bascom Hill, which is written as though the fight were an epic military battle. It’s amusing, and worth a read.

Blog college, general debauchery, wisconsin

Now that I refer to UW-Stevens Point as my “alma mater,” there are some exciting things happening there. This is not to say, however, that there weren’t exciting things happening there when I was attending, but some high profile stuff is in the works. And, interestingly enough, The Pointer looks to be cleaning up its act slightly, and one day it may even be worth reading. Who’d have thought! Anyway, I’m referring to a specific event on campus today, and that is the COFAC Creates – Japan The Floating World series. Even if you have never heard of the term ukiyo-e, you have probably seen this picture somewhere:

Frankly, failure to recognize this woodblock print should be declared “unamerican.” Of the many woodblock reprints adorning my apartment walls, The Great Wave never fails to elicit a response from visitors. I knew Hokusai’s legacy was far-reaching when a tipsy friend attempted to hug my framed reprint, saying “I loooove this.” There is, of course, a lot more to the world of ukiyo-e (yes, I did just say “the world of the floating world”) than just Hokusai, but he’s a good starting point given his popularity with Westerners. Still, the COFAC series will look at the broader picture, and even includes some related film showings and a Kabuki (!) workshop. Here’s a brief overview of the event schedule:

October 26: Exhibition opening reception

October 29: Drew Stevens, Curator of Prints, Drawings and Photographs at the Chazen Museum of Art Lecture: Printmakers in Edo

November 1: Japanese Film Festival: Kwaidan (1965) Masaki Kobayashi

November 5: Dr. Larry Ball, Art Historian, Department of Art & Design, UWSP Lecture: Admiring the Sunrise: Japanese Woodblock Prints as seen by 19th century Europeans

November 6: David Furumoto, Associate Professor of Acting, Department of Theatre and Drama, UW-Madison
Lecture Demonstration: The Path of The Onnagata-Male to Female

November 7: David Furumoto, Associate Professor of Acting, Department of Theatre and Drama, UW-Madison
Interactive Workshop: A Kabuki Primer-A,B,C’s of Performing Kabuki

November 8: Japanese Film Festival: Double Suicide (1969) Masahiro Shinoda

November 11: Dr. Julie Davis, Art Historian, Department of the History of Art, University of Pennsylvania
Lecture: Appraising Desire in Ukiyo-e: Representations of Courtesans in Late 18th-century Japan

November 15: Japanese Film Festival: Ugetsu (1953) Kenji Mizoguchi

November 17: Junichi Semitsu, Adjunct Professor of Law, University of San Diego School of Law
Lecture: The Race to Erase: Reflections on a ‘Post-Racial’ Society.”

November 18: Yuji Hiratsuka, Professor of Fine Arts, Department of Art, Oregon State University
Lecture: “Persona Perspective: Prints by Yuji Hiratsuka”

November 20: Exhibition closing reception

There is something for everyone here, and I think the diversity of events will help draw in even students and members of the public that aren’t particularly interested in or familiar with ukiyo-e; exposing such people to Asian culture is one of the cornerstones of East Asian studies. My hope is that, if the series goes well (and I expect it to), it will lead to increased interest in the creation of an East Asian studies department at Point – talented faculty in this field are already teaching in diverse subjects (art history, history, geography, etc.) there, so it seems only natural to begin offering a degree program some time in the future. Were I still a student at Point, you can bet I would have been at every event listed, but now that I live in Madison, I’m unfortunately going to have to be choosey. I have a night lab on Wednesdays, so the Julie Davis and Yuji Hiratsuka lectures are out. I’d certainly like to see the Drew Stevens lecture, but I’m not sure it would be worth driving an hour and a half on a Tuesday night to see someone who works at the Chazen, which is 15 minutes walking distance from my Madison apartment. It would be worth it just to be in the company of good friends, I suppose. I was excited to hear that the film selection and screening process is being handled by my old film professor, Leslie Midkiff Debauche, who has an eye for good cinema. On a related note, I recieved a message on my Facebook wall yesterday from a friend and coworker at the video store who is currently in her freshman year at the University of Minnesota:

When you started taking film, did you go through the silent ones? I’m to my mid-term and we’ve only seen one film with sound.

Here is my response, worthy of inclusion on this blog simply because of how overwrought it is for a Facebook wall post:

Unless you’re specifically taking a “classic film” class, I think an intro course should be more encompassing than that. Film has evolved, of course, and it’s important to think about all of the elements and methods modern films are composed of and made from – mise-en-scene, cinematography, colors, lighting, sound, etc, and also how different cultures affect how these are used. If I remember correctly (this was two years ago), we didn’t watch any silent films in our class. Some of the ones we watched included “North by Northwest”, “Strangers on a Train”, “Rear Window”, “Casablanca”, “Apocolypse Now”, “The Mission” (a Hong Kong film), “The Birds”, “Shadow of a Doubt”, “The 39 Steps”, “Broken Flowers”, “Goodfellas”…They are pretty varied from each other in a lot of ways (even though a lot of them are Hitchcock productions), and each one helped our class explore different facets of film.

I will have to go more into my freshman “Introduction to Film” class sometime, but if you are still in college and need a humanities credit, give some serious thought to enrolling in a film studies class. A good professor will be able to assemble a syllabus featuring films that broaden your understanding of cinema worldwide and captivate your imagination. And if you have a bad professor who can’t do this, you still get to watch movies in class. You win either way!

Before I wrap this post up, I thought I’d share another ancedote about learning Mandarin, because I’m sure my poor foreign language skills are fodder for hilarity. I showed up to the UWSP Chinese Culture Club’s Moon Festival last weekend with hopes of eating way too much moon cake and watching a play where guys played girls and girls played guys (no explanation was ever given for that use of artistic liscensing). Unfortunately, by the time I got there things were wrapping up, and while I still got some moon cake, I missed out on most of the night’s festivities. Bummer. I sauntered over to a table where CCC members were writing people’s names on paper with calligraphic brushes and requested that my Chinese name, 八大山人 (Badashanren), be written. My name is taken from a famous Chinese painter of the Ming/Qing dynasties, so I thought it’d be pretty easy for them to understand my bad Mandarin accent. For those who aren’t aware, Mandarin is a tonal language, and how you say words affects their meaning. Thus, tones are very, very, very important. The guy behind the table asked me to repeat my name a few times, and I realized that this probably meant there was a problem with my pronounciation. Props to him though, because he soldiered on and struggled to write out what he thought I said:

After he finished, all of the other Chinese students gathered around the table looked quizzically at the paper. One girl said, “Hmm…that doesn’t make any sense.” This “name” is a noble interpretation of what I said (even though it’s gibberish), and I fully attribute the misunderstanding to my poor Mandarin skills. The problem here is that these characters – “巴”, “上” ,”文” – are homophones that correspond to words in my name. See? Tones are not to be underestimated! Luckily, this incident didn’t involve me accidently offending anyone by unintetionally saying something bad. I asked if I could try using the calligraphic brush, and the students running the table were awesome enough to let me. Here’s my actual name in my calligraphy:

As I produced each stroke, everyone gathered around the table spoke out each syllable as I finished writing them – “Ba…da…shan…ren!” The Chinese students seemed impressed, and congratulated me on my writing. Of course, “Badashanren” is composed of really simple characters with only few strokes, so the real challenge is going to be doing some more complicated calligraphy next time.

Blog college, japan, mandarin, wisconsin

First, some stuff for the freshmen…

Recently I received a complimentary issue of a particular student newspaper in the mail. On the front page was a large picture of a group of “incoming freshmen” sitting on the lawn in front of one of the university campus’ landmarks during freshman orientation. Since it wasn’t an official university photograph, no one in the picture was smiling, or even pretending to have fun. In a way, their collective expression of unhappiness seems like a conscious effort, as if to forewarn future freshmen that will be in their shoes, not just in the coming months, but also next year, and the year after that, and so forth. The realization that freshman orientation isn’t typically a pleasant experience does not take long to sink in; most universities open their orientation sessions (which often span two days) with a speech presented by a figurehead of the institution that no one in the room will recognize.

And the long, arduous speeches continue throughout the day. But is orientation as useless as many seem to think? Well, for some, it provides a safe opportunity to make friends and acquaintances before move-in day. On the flip side, this can be dangerous and potentially damaging to your freshman experience, because it’s hard to gauge who you will get along with and who you won’t within the span of a day or two. It’s kind of like the aforementioned move-in day, when you decide to meet everyone on your floor in the dorm. Sure, you may live next to someone who could eventually become your best friend at college, but what if the guy one door further down is a complete asshole? What if you and your roommate accidentally attract the attention of a pathological liar, or a narcissist who talks about him/herself for hours on end? You could be in for a rough living situation. If you and your orientation friends don’t end up in the same dorm building and if you’re not in the same major, you may not stay friends for very long. I myself made many “friends” at orientation, none of whom I kept in contact with once starting school.

On the other hand, freshman orientation is great real-world job experience, as it is basically the same thing as corporate teambuilding sessions (that is to say, no one wants to be there except for the people organizing it). How many icebreakers can one endure in one day? Why is time moving so slowly? Do I really care about the ice cream flavor of choice for the guy sitting next to me? Did I really pay money to be here?

…And now some stuff for everyone interested in me.

Thankfully, I had a much more pleasant experience with my transfer orientation last week than I did with my freshman orientation two years ago. Neither of my parents could come (just like last time), so I was dropped off in the morning and promptly started limping my way to the building I thought I was supposed to be in. I limped across a very long and empty corridor and met a man standing at the other side, who told me I was in the wrong building. Wah wah wahhhhh. Eventually I did reach the building where the festivities were being held after stalking following another student and her mother. I got my name tag and sat down in a very large lecture hall filled with other transfer students.

I noticed that almost no one in the room seemed to be talking to anyone else, unless they were with a friend they already knew or with their parents. It was a radical departure from the outgoing and eager nature many people displayed at my freshman orientation. I don’t think this is to be attributed to a collective shyness; rather, we all had the transfer student mindset, and were more cynical at the prospect of making friends at an orientation session. I decided that I would make an earnest attempt to become acquainted with at least one person. At first I was going to “cheat” and find someone else who attended Stevens Point, but I quickly realized this was futile. I think I may have been the only person from my school there that day. At our speaker’s urging, everyone in the lecture hall turned to their left or right and made awkward conversation with the person next to them. Mine went something like this (note: I don’t remember the guy’s name, so let’s call him “Kyle”):

Me: Hey, I’m Dave. What’s your name?
Kyle: I’m Kyle. I’m transferring from Marathon County.
Me: Marathon County? That’s pretty close to Stevens Point, where I’m coming from.
Kyle: Yep.
Me: So, I suppose you’re transferring because Marathon County is a two-year institution?
Kyle: Yep.
Me: That makes sense. It would be kind of bad to go through two years of schooling and just stop without a degree.
Kyle’s Mom: (Laughs)
Me: (Thinking to self) I’m glad my poor and awkward attempt at humor has actually induced laughter. Oh wait, she’s probably just humoring me.

While “Kyle” and I did have a nice “chat”, I feel there was an unspoken acceptance between us that we would never be friends. We were just two guys forced into a situation requiring cooperation. Such is the social networking selectiveness of a transfer student. After the speaker was finished, everyone was divided up according to the college they were planning to enter, and the colleges split off from each other. I personally rep the College of Letters and Science (what what!), so naturally I went with them. Further information on breadth requirements and registration followed, so let’s fast forward to the “free” lunch, two hours later. The “free” lunch was a much-hyped break from class registration. All of the orientation staff referred to it explicitly as the ”free lunch,” which leads me to believe there is a stipulation in their contract that says they must always include the word “free” before mentioning lunch. Still, this exchange took place between me and an orientation peer mentor:

Peer Mentor: We’re going to the free lunch in five minutes.
Me: So I guess there really is such a thing as a free lunch?
Peer Mentor: (Frowns) Well, actually, I think part of your orientation fee is for your lunch.
Me: …Oh.

Yes, I was all about the bad humor and corny jokes that day. Regardless, the “free” lunch offered another social opportunity to meet other transfer students in the same boat as me. At the very least, it offered an opportunity to eat lunch outside on a beautiful day. I aimlessly wandered around the area where everyone was eating and picked a random table to sit at. I sat down and realized that the guy next to me, like the first guy (Kyle), was from Marathon County. Small world. The girl across the table from me was from Waukesha, which is in the same part of Wisconsin as my hometown, so that provided some conversation fodder as well. I switched on my extrovert personality and moderated the discussion between the three of us, inadvertently leaving out another guy who was also sitting at the table. Eventually, an orientation staff member invited herself to our table and interrupted the conversation. I think her job was to moderate lunch table discussions, but I was already doing well with that, so she relinquished herself to mostly listening. Our conversation was fairly Wisconsin-orientated, and since she was from New York, we had to divert course to more general collegiate topics. Did I mention my sandwich was hard as a rock? I think I could have removed my own wisdom teeth if I had jammed the bread far enough into my mouth.

After lunch, I enrolled for my classes at precisely 1:00 pm, and a few signatures of approval later, I was sent on my marry way. I definitely appreciated the “cutbacks” the university applied to the transfer orientation program. To apply the mandatory bad analogy, it fit like a well-tailored suit. So what have I learned? Well, I learned that orientation isn’t painful as long as it is preceded by the word “transfer” instead of the word “freshman.” Also, I learned that transfer students are innately cynical, but that’s just our nature, as influenced by our environment and situation, unique to us as a group on campus. We rule.

Blog college, idiocy, wisconsin