I have a hard time taking my life seriously. And really, it is no fault of my own. I go to college. I've taken courses about linguistics and ancient Chinese religions. I can speak languages that I'll never have to, unless I'm drunk or I'm trying to show off. I've even taken a course in television. When I graduate I'll have my own specifically designed degree in pop-culture, which guarantees me the right to ruin any conversation I participate in. When I saw the movie "Austin Powers" I was impressed with its liberal application of pastiche. How postmodern!
What is it about an institution of higher learning that refuses any form of respect? We, the college students, belong to the comedy genre. Real-world "adults" believe we belong to a world best depicted in the movie "Animal House." We laugh because it's true.
On the rare occasion that mommy or daddy doesn't fill out important documents for me, I have come across the question that demands to know my occupation. I write in "college student," but who am I really kidding? Since when has being a college student paid rather than accumulated the bills? And tell me again how my understanding of apartheid has ever served my community at large?
And yet I belong to something larger and greater than any occupation. We, the college students, represent a tradition that exceeds any religion still in existence. We are more American than anything else in this medley of confusion, this melting-pot of disarray, these United States. We are primitive. We are tribal. We pass the peace pipe and dance the rhythmless dance that summons the gods of hedonism and lust. We master the simplest motions, the keenest awareness and the most basic of instincts in every game of pong we play.
We live for the moment, when we are our own people. We no longer belong to our parents and we have not yet become them. We are forced to live by our rules and make do with only the rarest essentials: that which is in ourselves and that which Topside can supply. And we do not serve the community, because we are the community. We are, in ourselves, a very commune. Democracy in its purest form. Our beer and cigarette packs are left practically unattended. All you have to do is ask, and they will be yours.
We have our life because we are immortal. No beer or cigarette has ever killed anyone (right?). And we have our liberty because the College knows no curfews (as of yet ... OK, well 2 a.m. is good enough). And we have our property, albeit a property that is often shared by loud and messy roommates and public bathrooms that are usually occupied in most of our emergency situations, but property none-the-less.
And as for our pursuit of happiness? Well, John Hancock practically signed our very names to the Declaration of Independence when he included that little token to America. No bread-winner or domesticated house-spouse has ever taken that unalienable right to heart as well as we, the college students, have. We pursue happiness with more energy than can be produced with all the water power stored in the Sphinx.
Not to say that we, as college students, have not had our own real world experiences. We know what it is like to walk into a party without paying a cover charge and putting all our drinks on a tab that will never be paid. And we know how to rely on our Dartmouth Health Plan coverage so that we can walk in and out of Dick's House at our leisure for any and all types of medical treatment. And we also know that if regular attendance in class is our responsibility, a hangover is as good an excuse as any not to show up. We know it is relatively safe to walk home alone at 2 a.m., fearing only that we should encounter a peace-keeping Safety and Security officer. I personally think we are rather well-prepared for what ever that ominous "real world," the type featured on MTV, has in store for us.
But the best thing about being in college is that, no matter how intently we look to the future, we never lose our ties to the past. I do not mean only in the form of actual communication, facilitated by means of easily accessible BlitzMail, that connects us to the childhood friends we seem to have far-outgrown by now. I mean that we also possess the ability to forge powerful bonds with our new college companions as we all reminisce together while watching a nostalgic session of VH1's "Pop Up Video."
If college can't be taken seriously, then really, what else is there? We can't afford to be brainwashed by adults who, like all the children who visited Never Neverland and still decided to come home and grow up, have already forgotten what it is like to belong to a phenomenon so perfect as college.
If it is any help, we must remember that there are colleges all over the country. Students just like us. We are not alone. If you strain, if you listen hard enough you just might hear the echo, the Zen-like murmur of the college students everywhere: "Oommmmmm...."
"Oooommmmygod! I'm late for class!"
