by Jane Chong on April 28, 2009
So I’ve never been in quite this much trouble before, and for someone perpetually on the precipice of procrastination-prompted failure, this is really saying something.
And yeah. In case you’re wondering, the essay I am currently (supposed to be) writing for my philosophy class is as long-winded and fulla-nothing as the first sentence of this blog post.
I’m suffering a devastatingly inconvenient case of Senioritis. Though if the NYTimes and my most recent piece of Duke mail are any indication, it could be Swine Flu (cue Dean’s Excuse). I’ve deactivated my Facebook account four times. I’ve finished my second Jimmy John’s and am awaiting reinforcements. I’ve read every single FML post and the refresh button hasn’t yielded anything new for the last half hour. This brings me to the Chronicle. This is a cry for help.
Like most of the non-graduating population, and the fourth of the graduating class for whom GPA still matters (i.e. the unemployed and those yet to apply to law school), I am on a caffeine and phenylalanine trip –liquid, pill and gelatinous form (those tiny 5-hour energy drinks are adorable, but for the love of Godzilla, heed the instructions and discard any remainder after 72 hours).
I am writing because I want to vent about things that don’t matter. There is no better kind of distraction. Here we go: you would expect seniors to have more patience for the sentimental absurdity that gets flung around this time of year. But instead we get unjustifiably frustrated about our anticlimactic end and respond to all of the gushiness people upload onto Facebook with 1) creepy-crawly feelings, 2) tears, 3) relief about imminent escape, 4) fervent desire to confess something Profound About Our Duke Careers.
Speaking of which: I have recently decided to renege on the terms of my senior column. For anyone who read the thing, I am committing this major breach of columnist ethics not (merely) because I am a coward, but because I realize that the crush to whom I am supposed to be ‘fessing up my feelings is not really the object of my affections.
The crush is a stand-in. The crush is a cop-out. The crush-thing truly amounts to me wanting closure and instantiating it in the form of Some Guy. Some guy whose physique and carefully molded hair closely resemble the natural gifts of a certain Greek hero. Fans of Troy will know to whom I am referring.
Just kidding. About the Greek hero thing, I mean. All of this is my way of trying to entertain you and myself as I enter the dark 24-hour abyss that is my personal Hades. Here on the backpages of the Chron, I am at least Producing Something (read: junk), and if I squeeze my eyes and click my heels three times, I can almost mistake this for Being Productive. Feel free to leave derisive comments. If I get a readership here, I will know I am procrastinating in style, i.e. with a sympathetic audience of friends similarly in danger of Epic Finals Failure, and I may take that as a signal to post a follow-up.
Signing off,
Jane
by Jacob Wolff on April 16, 2009
Well folks, this is my last blog entry for the year. As all four of you who have been reading my posts this semester would almost assuredly agree, chances are the powers that be won’t be renewing my contract for next year. I like to attribute it more to that fact that I’m too edgy and controversial, rather than acknowledging I’m probably just too dang weird to be writing for the newspaper. So for what may be my ’series finale’ if you will, I decided to reflect upon what has, for all intents and purposes, been a pretty difficult year.
Recently, during a fit of homework-induced stress, I realized just how much junior year of college really does suck. Now I don’t want to seem like a Debbie Downer; junior year has had its fun moments, but it really has been a tough year. After complaining about junior year of college, it dawned upon me that junior year of high school was just as bad. After that realization, I though about Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers. After that, I had an epiphany: I could live without pretty much everything “Junior” related:
Junior year of college: My current nemesis. Junior year, or more specifically, second semester junior year, is terrible. Combine a normal course-load (or even an over-load if you actually believed your advisor when he/she said: “Don’t worry, you can experiment with different classes your first few semesters, it won’t set you back”) with the craziness that is the internship hunt, add in the search for housing next year, tack on a few extracurriculars and you’ve got yourself a fun ol’ semester! Oh yeah, and did I mention studying for the MCATs, LSATs or whatever random four lettered test that will determine your future? The worst part, they’re all really important. You need good grades, good LSAT scores, a good internship, a place to live and a nice bowl of tomato soup (one needs sustenance to survive) if you hope to graduate with a job! You really can’t put anything on the back burner either. Though, if you must put one there, I would probably suggest the soup, as it will keep it warm.
Junior year of high school: I don’t mean to dredge up bad memories, but I think everyone sees the parallel to the Junior year of college experience. AP classes, applying to colleges, SATs, worrying about cooties; it’s the Junior version of our junior year at Duke.
Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers: I’m a vegetarian, and even I know Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers are lame. Sure, they’re cheap, but hardly filling (I wasn’t a veg until college, so lay off, Wendy’s was tasty). If you’re going to go omnivore, go for the full sized burger. You know what they say about people who order junior sized cheeseburgers? They use fewer condiments like ketchup. And if you don’t overuse condiments like ever other American (myself included), then that must mean you hate the USA. If you hate the USA, then you must hate freedom… DO YOU WANT TO HATE FREEDOM!?!
Freddie Prinze Jr.: Do I really need to say anything about this one?
Cuba Gooding Jr.: Jerry Maguire= Good. Daddy Day Care= Even better!! Kidding, it was terrible.
The Movie “Junior”: Few have heard of this film, and it’s better that way. Danny DeVito and Arnold Schwarzenegger star as gynecologists who have come up with a way of impregnating males. Laughs (are supposed to) ensue when Arnold becomes the test subject and carries a baby (not in his arms, his tummy of course!). If you (a) want to further question humanity’s intelligence (in that a state actually elected this man governor), (b) think Danny DeVito, in some odd way, is kind of adorable or (c) still giggle at the word “gynecologist,” watch this flick.
Clearly, not all juniors are bad. Martin Luther King Jr. of course. I think I remember liking a song by Junior Senior at one point. Junior-sized Halloween costumes worn by college kids at tailgate are always sure to elicit a chuckle or two. Junior Mints are tasty too. So the word “Junior” is by no means a lost cause. But until junior year passes, it’s a cuss word in my book.