Well, well. Hello, '05s. It's two o'clock
in the morning. I've just gotten back to my room from the painting studio and since, under extreme duress, I've been compelled to write this article, I'm up typing, sitting in front of this damnable Mac instead of sinking into a peaceful oblivion in my (bottom) half of the bunk bed.
So this is usually a humor column and this column usually addresses current issues at Dartmouth (in a highly tangential manner) or more often, consists of my trying to fill up a column with 600 words or more (I also use lots of parentheses. I find it keeps the editors on their toes).
But since I'm feeling particularly ornery (not to be confused with "horny"), I've decided to be preachy and obnoxious. Hopefully, you'll glean some information worth knowing from the sentences that ensue from the orneriness that your existence as a class has been a direct cause of. (The previous sentence was rather awkward. It's 2:17!) Explanation: If there were no '05 class, there would be no '05 Freshman Issue and I would not be up writing an article at such an ungodly hour.
Anyway, speaking of computers. I hope you have managed to order laptops because if you think that lugging a Mac G3 desktop with a 17 inch monitor up four flights of stairs is fun, you've got another thing coming to you. I think a year ago I would have urged y'all to get PCs but evidently, the brainwashing has done its work and I prefer Macs now. Easier to access certain networking thingamabobbers ("thingamabobber" being a technical term comparable to "whatchamacallit") with Macs. Also, that new G4 laptop (titanium) is a thing of beauty and a sight to behold.
Only 300 more words to go. Maybe I will make a list. It will help pass the time. So here it is: "Quasi-Important Things for a Matriculating '05 to Know."
- First thing you will encounter: DOC trips. Freshwomen will fall madly in love with their trip leaders and the H-Croo and hook up with more upperclassmen than the current population of Kansas City, Missouri.
'05 men? It's gonna be a drought year. Consider yourselves celibate.
- Men of the Class of 2005, I address this to you: take heart! After leading an ascetic's life during your first year, you will become An Upperclassmen (and thereby attractive to younger women) while the women of your class are put on the shelf to make way for the fresh meat.
Woohoo. (Excuse me while I vomit for the state of gender-relations at Dartmouth.)
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I want to sleep. This is not something of particular importance or even quasi-importance. Just wanted to let you know how miserable I am right now. My bed! My darling bed!
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You will participate in underage drinking. You will drink lots. Your parents will want to know whether you drink. You will tell them: "No, great balls of fire, no! A hundred times no!" You will hump trashed friends home and you will be humped home in turn. (I am using "hump" in the Tim-O'Brien-The-Things-They-Carried context -- required reading my first year -- "to hump" means "to carry". You have such a dirty mind. It must be because you are only 18.) You will have enormous hangovers. You will be okay. You have friends that care about you and who will take care of you. You will reciprocate. Be safe. (Wasn't that cheesy? But it's okay, I speak from the viewpoint of a mature and experienced 19-year-old and am therefore consummately perfect in my understanding.)
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Hanover is just Hangover without the "g."
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Speaking of the friends that you will have. You will make lots of friends. Some of them you will never speak to again. You will not even acknowledge them. They will not acknowledge you. Others will become lifelong friends. That's the way it goes. Snotty people are not worth knowing. New Yorkers are the coolest. Californians are the second coolest. You'll see. (I am always right.)
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You will take classes in your spare time. You will love some of them. Others not so much. You will take the English Department's literary theory class (English 15) and every time the class is mentioned, your eyes will roll back and your body will shudder ecstatically. It is the best class in the world. Not kidding. You will have no idea what you should major in, maybe law (there is no law major), then English, then (wow!) there is a Creative Writing major, then (wow!) there is a Studio Art major. You will then wish that you were a Comparative Lit major. You will declare one major (your sophomore year) and then wish you were another major. It will be too late to switch. Too bad.
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Call your parents. They are annoying. They love you. They are paying for your college tuition. They know stuff.
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You will not find out what 10 is because a) I've exceeded 600 words, b) it's 3:07 a.m. and I have class at 10 tomorrow, and c) you will find out for yourself how much Dartmouth can sometimes rock and how much Dartmouth can sometimes suck.
Bedtime for Nancy. G'nite!
P.S. That photo of me is pretty heinous. My roommate says it is only the pixels that make me look like the product of many centuries of inbreeding. She is not just being nice.
I only mention it because an editor spoke about the '05s seeing the picture and I really can't muster up the initiative or enough concern to go reshoot. But anyway g'nite!
