Offbeat Academia: Swine flu won’t sway skepticism

I’m kind of a dirty girl. I have this philosophy that if I’m just a little filthy most of the time, I can avoid disease. I believe the obsession surrounding antibacterial hand gel and showering every day is exactly what’s making everyone sick. My hair is short, simply so I don’t have to take care of it.

If you looked at me today, you wouldn’t be able to tell that I haven’t showered since the last issue. In fact, I purposely do not wash my hands after using the toilet (in public and private bathrooms) because I don’t see a good reason why I should. The toilet paper is folded enough times so that there is a dry barrier between my hand and my body.

I can already tell you’re not buying my philosophy. Well, I’m actually starting to doubt myself. With all this swine flu going around, I’m wondering about my own safety. It’s allergy season now, and I touch my face a lot, sniffling and itching. I touch it with the hands that touch everything else – the hands I don’t wash.

I hear the virus has hit Delaware now, so how much longer before it hits Filthadelphia? How much longer before I give into the antibacterial, cleanliness-is-next-to-Godliness paranoia?

Am I scaring you? This is scaring me. Some kid in class yesterday told me the pandemic level had just gone up. What does that mean? This kind of jargon is reminiscent of the war-on-terror days, when we were just waiting for our small town high schools to be blown to smithereens while we were eating lunch. Are we really in a period of panic, or is this another covert attempt at “uniting” the country through fear?

Maybe the government is just trying to scare me into the bathtub. Maybe swine flu
is just a big conspiracy meant to get me to start washing my hands like I learned to do in grade school. They want us to come clean and start acting right. We’re not children anymore. We know how to practice good hygiene. If we weren’t so dirty, we wouldn’t have to worry.

And what is the swine flu doing to those who keep clean? It’s driving them further and further apart from their loved ones. It’s isolating individuals so we don’t have connections anymore: no kissing, no holding hands, no touching of any kind and ultimately, no emotion. Imagine wearing facemasks while having sex with a stranger – that’s the future of romance.

You might say I’m getting carried away. Maybe you know me, and you’re still thinking about the last time you shook my hand. Regardless, how worried should we be? Think back to when President George W. Bush and his gang used to up the ante with terror threat alerts. How worried were we then?

You would do well to consider how much of the hype is real and how much of it is created by the media and the completely ignorant, clueless society we live in. It’s like that part in Men in Black when Tommy Lee Jones’ character says to Will Smith’s: “A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals, and you know it.”

Swine flu is our intergalactic alien.

Maybe I’ll be singing a different tune when swine flu catches up with me this summer, but right now, I remain faithful to my philosophy. Because of my dirty habits, I’m sure my body has built up a strong immunity to foreign contaminants. Plus, I drink orange juice like it’s water. So just relax. After all, it’s finals week, and your exams might kill you before swine flu does.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Worst days bring good perspective

What is the worst thing that could happen to you?

Your computer crashes, sending your unfinished term paper into the abyss of information lost in PC malfunctions. Your mom comes to visit and notices a condom in your bathroom trash can. Maybe you lose a big chunk of money playing gin rummy on Thirsty Thursday.

But I bet you didn’t get poison ivy on your face! I was wearing a red, puffy, oozing beard of itchiness for most of last week. Not only was I suffering physically, but I was quite an awful sight to behold. I tried to keep my face hidden behind my bandana, but you can only do so much to hide swollen, blistering cheeks when you’re talking to your professor.

So then, I opted to just stay home. I hibernated for the weekend. At home, I could lather my face with calamine lotion and lie under the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I loaded up on Benadryl (given to me, appropriately, by Student Health Services) and dozed around, watching free movies on the Internet and eating dry cereal.

Mind you, I have a point. Although the poison ivy rash seemed like a curse from Mother Nature (I guess she didn’t want me to weed the strawberry patch), I did a lot of soul-searching, which helped me see the silver lining in this irritated, seeping cloud. There was good that could come out of this ailment.

First, but certainly not most importantly, I got a considerable amount of work done. My weekend of solitude without cable left me without much else to do, so I was actually able to scratch everything off my list, and I wasn’t doing it just to make myself feel better.

School may not be everyone’s priority – it’s not mine – but there is something to be said about catching up on work. It feels good. It’s been chasing you for a while, so when you finally get ahead, it’s significant. You might even feel exuberant enough to go out and get drunk, in which case you’ll be back where you started – but school’s not your life.

This might not be an issue for everyone, but the rash also pushed me to wash my clothes. Normally, I just use the smell test to determine what’s clean and what’s dirty. But not this time – you can’t smell the urushiol on clothes (that’s the skin irritant in the oil on the poison ivy plant). The paranoia really hit when I realized how the line separating the top of my face and the infected lower half of my face fit perfectly with the position of my bandana – it even stretched up to my ears. I decided that I must wash everything. So, anything on the floor was thrown into the washer, as it was probably something I wore within the past few days. I guess that’s one way to do your chores.

Like I said, I gained some insight from this experience as well, so it wasn’t just crossing things off my list. Maybe it was the Benadryl or the cabin fever, but being alone with an ugly rash on my face for the weekend was somewhat comforting. In other words, I grew more comfortable with myself. I could even laugh at my face when I lowered my chin to make my neck almost disappear.

Also, without company or television, I had a lot of time to think, mostly about unimportant things. But, because of their nature, they don’t usually get a lot of attention. So, instead of contemplating the world or its issues, I focused on things that don’t require much thought, like how many bricks are in the wall or how to catch our unwanted house guest, Frederick. (He’s a mouse.)

Call me stir-crazy, but I feel like I did some real growing while my face was breaking out. Anyway, it was enough of an experience to fill this column. In the future, however, I will attempt to feel and see these things without the itchiness.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia:Rainy day songs ease April showers

April can be a real bummer.

Spring may be here, and sure, the high temperature is consistently staying above 50 degrees, but this month is known for its precipitation. And for students, this month only brings us closer to finals with each cloudy day.

Imagine Paddington Bear, with his blue slicker and red hat, clambering into class to take an exam. It’s just sad.

My column isn’t about music, and I usually feel uncomfortable writing about music because I lack the vocabulary. But I like lists. Most of these songs don’t have anything to do with weather, but music can be great company when it’s drizzling outside. In no particular order, here are my top five rainy day songs, if there can even be such a thing:

1. “Puddle Splashers” by Cap’n Jazz.
I was introduced to this band by a very good friend of mine who put it on a mixtape for me. The song is upbeat and fun. It will make you get out of your house, your apartment or your dorm room, and if not, it will at least make you bounce around inside. It reminds me a lot of being a kid: immature, stupid and naïve. Even now, I feel like a kid – and I think a lot of you can relate to that every time you get embarrassed or you enjoy the freedom of being alone. Hopefully, sometime this month, you’ll have a chance to turn this song up really loud and jump on your bed. The title is suitable, too.

2. “Only in Dreams” by Weezer.
Oh man, does this remind me of high school. See, where I grew up, it wasn’t like the movies (as I’m sure most hometowns aren’t). We didn’t have big parties when parents went out of town because they never really left, and we didn’t have any money.

There was a house, though, where we did our “hanging out.” And those kids showed me The Blue Album. I will be forever grateful, and I hope you can scratch eight minutes into your schedule to check out this song ,if you haven’t already. It’s pretty epic – for high school, I guess.

3.“The Trembling of the Rose” by Two Gallants.
I figured if I’m doing a rainy day song list, I have to include a sad song. That’s what rain is all about, right? Crying. So, if you’ve felt loss, this one should really wrench your heart.

The most impressive thing about this song is its power on those who have caused the hurting, as well. Even the femme fatale can’t swagger to this – the guilt will build up in her throat. I don’t mean to get so gloomy (or maybe I do), but I felt like I had to throw a song in for the kids who like to sit and watch the raindrops trickle down the window pane.

4. “Virtue the Cat Explains Her Departure” by The Weakerthans.

Kitty-cat! Staying inside can be better than anything if you have a cozy, cuddly feline to snuggle with. This song is about a cat, which is absolutely delightful, and it’ll turn those Two Gallants blues right around. Unless you have an allergy (or an empty space where your soul should be), you can’t help but feel fuzzy after listening to this song. So, when the rain bids you to stay inside, pull your cat from under the bed and rock her like a baby singing, “I can’t remember the sound / that you found for me…”

5. “Hazy Jane II” by Nick Drake.
This has been my favorite song by the late Nick Drake ever since I started listening to his music. If you ever get a chance to learn about his life, I warn you the story is pretty sad. Although, from the sound of this song, it’d be hard to imagine. The trumpets will promise you there is always a silver lining to every dark cloud. Drake is always good for book readin’ or a long drive.

I was hesitant at first, but I feel pretty good about this list. Like any top five, it’s not permanent. In fact, by the time this is published, I will have scrapped the whole thing. Whether they remain in my top five or not, they’ll always be songs I connect to a person or a time.

This issue of the column is dedicated to Joseph Alan Sivick Jr.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Joking is the only way to go

A lot of you think you are really funny.

That’s appropriate, given our generation’s special treatment. We’ve all been taught that we are unique individuals and that our diverse ways of expressing ourselves are both valid and interesting.

So, a lot of you think you are comedians. Your job is to make people pay attention to you, whether they’re laughing or not, which makes some of you look like jerks.

I used to hang around a lot of class clowns in high school (i.e. boys who affirm masculinity not through sports but through bathroom humor and insults). From them and from my father, I formulated my own sense of humor. I caught onto all the rules – what’s funny, what gets old and what’s funny only to me.

I was socially ostracized a lot because I was a girl trying to make jokes. I laughed at inside gags that I didn’t really understand. But, I worked hard to make them laugh at my jokes, and I eventually got the hang of it. To this day, I greatly appreciate a good pun, a wacky scenario or even a flat-out (yet harmless) lie.

Scenarios are big in my circle. Usually, these jokes are hypothetical, outrageous situations based on real people or real events. However, they don’t usually start with a “what if…” clause; you just have to know where they begin. Most of the time, it’ll start with the simple re-telling of a funny story. Then, a character might be exaggerated, or the series of events will change. I can’t really tell you how they end because they can usually carry on for hours, days or even weeks. We’ll just keep adding on to the story.

Like I said, lies can be pretty hilarious as well, as long as they’re not told for the purpose of harming someone. You shouldn’t really lie about death or any other impending issue that could move someone to strong emotions. Take Ashton Kutcher’s show Punk’d, which was working far too hard to embarrass and shame people.

Preposterous lies are more fun. People know they’re not true, and yet, you still get a funny look. (Note: lies can overlap with scenarios.) Additionally, lies that turn out to be awesome truths when finally discovered are also acceptable. For instance, your friends from out of town tell you their car broke down and they can’t make it into the city, but they turn up an hour later.

There are also the jokes that are so bad, they’re funny. I call them “brick jokes.” (Note: if you don’t understand that one, watch Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy.) Then again, these jokes are fragile. Eventually, after you’ve made enough of them, they return to being bad jokes.

Speaking of bad jokes, there are also easy jokes, like “you are” jokes. For example, your roommate offers you fuzzy navel, and you respond, “You’re a fuzzy navel.” These might turn out to only be funny to you, but they’re still funny, right? Besides, awkwardness is making a comeback in humor. People try to be weird now.

However, there are some easy jokes that are never funny, and they usually turn out to be based on stereotypes or some “ism,” such as racism, sexism, etc. I don’t want to get on my soapbox here, but I know how things can get out of hand when you’re trying to be funny. You become desperate for a good line – all of a sudden you end up like Kramer from Seinfeld. Nobody wants to be that guy (or gal).

Most of all, jokes are useful. They can help you test the waters with a new friend or lover. Will they find your jokes funny, offensive or bland? And what do their reactions say about them? Jokes can calm your nerves in a tense situation (hence, the comic relief character found in most movies).

Obviously, jokes can also help you really mess with someone. But if you want to do that, you have to know who can take it and who will break down. Most people like jokes. The only ones who don’t are usually megalomaniacs or just really bitter. It’s a shame, though, because they’re the best people to mock.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Roommate choices affect home harmony

Where are you going to live? With whom?

I mean, it’s already March. The deadline for Temple housing is approaching quickly. Maybe you should be worried about ending up on the streets next semester. You could live in the TV lounge of the Student Center. Just shove your stuff in a corner, and cover it with a blanket so no one notices. Not a bad idea, right? It’s got proximity.

Just kidding. Don’t do that. You’ll probably get kicked out if you try. But some people might prefer that option to moving in with a boyfriend or girlfriend.

Well, OK, maybe you were delighted when you moved in with him, but now it seems like he won’t go away, right? He’s always right there – snoring next to you, eating next to you, brushing his teeth while you’re on the toilet – and you’ve become fearful that you’ll never again have the luxury of sleeping alone.

Suddenly, you’re defensive. You start blowing up over little things. She’s trying to suffocate you, she never apologizes, and she hated your black bean rice soup. You’ve become a self-destructive, ticking time bomb, waiting for the right moment to stomp out and never come back.

That happens a lot, I’m sure. But it hasn’t happened to me, yet. I’m crossing my fingers.

Before living in this house, I lived with three boys with whom I had strictly platonic relationships, so it didn’t happen there either. Although, I pretty much became the mother of the house – cooking dinner, cleaning, taking care of a dying cat, adding and dividing bills – I enjoyed it for the most part. Like any good nuclear mother would say: it gave me a wonderful sense of purpose.

Now, I’m living with…him. With the boys, I didn’t have to see them all the time. They had girlfriends, shows and other friends to tend to. I mostly hung out with my dying cat, which wasn’t a very happening scene, and that’s probably why I took her back home. But him – he’s more like the dying cat.

I blow up over little things. I haven’t stomped out yet, but I threaten to often enough that it’s hard to believe anymore.

Before we moved in together this semester, I remember my mom asking me if I was worried about anything concerning the living arrangement. He and I spent most of our time together anyway, so I really wasn’t. Of course, there are those things you don’t experience until you’re living in the same house, but I didn’t think they would be a big deal.

And they’re not a big deal. Like I said, I blow up over little things. His guitar, for example: I’ve watched him play for the five years I’ve known him. Now, I get to hear it every day – while I’m sleeping, while I’m doing homework and while I’m cooking dinner. (Yes, I’m still cooking dinner).

Domestic duties have become the molten lava of our arguments, but it probably isn’t what you think. I’m the lazy one now. I don’t mind waiting until tomorrow to do the dishes, leaving my clothes on the floor or accumulating drinking glasses on my nightstand. He calls me lazy as he pulls out the vacuum and scrubs the bathroom floor on his knees. I cook the dinners. But that’s all I really have. I don’t know when this shift happened, but it did.

Living with one person, especially a significant other, is very different from living with multiple people. You rely on each other for something to do on the weekend and for food in the fridge. One of you has to be neat, one has to know how to cook, and one needs to remember trash day or the deadline for the electric bill.

Mind you, I only sound cynical for the sake of this column. He isn’t really so much like a dying cat.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Apathy abounds among most students

If the entire range of social issues was a kickball game, and the goal was to promote awareness of your cause and firmly stand for your beliefs instead of running circles around a field, and I was team captain, I would totally pick the preacher guy at the Bell Tower before I’d pick you.

His commotion and noise would kick the ball of conviction right over the outfielder’s head. His dignified commitment to Christianity would lift our team’s spirit. Most importantly, his knowledge of the Bible and prowess in navigating its morals would stun any 9-year-old trying to steal third base.

But most students don’t find his playing tactics impressive or welcome. They find him annoying, overwhelming, aggressive and inappropriate. Some even allow him to further sour their moods.

Despite the confrontation and opposition he may face, he’s still there on most nice days, telling you why you’re going to hell. He is determined to save you from your imminent, sinful downfall. He is motivated by your promiscuity, your theft and your homosexuality. Keywords: determined and motivated. This guy knows how he wants the world to be, and he will shove it down your throat.

I’m not preaching. I haven’t been blessed with the ability to speak the word of Christ, and I have no intention of converting you to any religion. Additionally, I’m not supporting this vigilante preacher’s approach or his beliefs.

What I’m getting at is your apathy. You name this guy the bane of your existence, but how can you blame him for being loud and radical in his method of spreading awareness? What are you doing? What do you stand for?

Don’t wave your Whole Foods Market canvas tote bags in my face or your Rosie the Riveter tattoos or Che Guevara T-shirts.

Does the preacher attempt to convince anybody of Christ’s existence by simply walking around campus with a cross around his neck? Your trendy symbols don’t mean anything if there is nothing concrete to support them.

Thus, we’ve arrived at the problem: social awareness has become so popular that media and markets can sell it. “Activism” is prepackaged and sold to you in handy kits, like PETA stickers.

Suddenly, awareness is enough, and being conscious of an issue is exhausting all your efforts in the cause. Consequently, apathy becomes acceptable, as long as you’re not racist, sexist or homophobic – as long as you can empathize with those who don’t eat meat, those who struggle in nonprofit jobs or those who can’t get married. It may not be convenient to cross the line into action, but at least you’re aware, right?

It’s not enough.

According to a 2007 survey conducted by the Pew Forum of Religion & Public Life, 78.4 percent of people in our country identify themselves as Christians. On the other hand, “Vegetarianism in America,” a 2008 study conducted by Vegetarian Times magazine, found that 3.2 percent of the nation’s adult population identify as vegetarian.

Again, I’m not promoting Christianity, just comparing the effectiveness of the gospel with that of Pamela Anderson.

I want you to start yelling. If you have something to say that’s important to you, let everyone know. Stand on the opposite side of the Bell Tower and preach your beliefs. Tell people what you think is wrong and what’s right.

OK, so, there’s figurative “yelling,” as well. In fact, some of the most impressive activism has been done without yelling, but rather with silence. You can be loud without even making a sound.

If you have a cause or something worth fighting for, you have to defend it adamantly. It is going to take more than knowing the situation exists or even publicly displaying it on your denim jacket. Listening to socially conscious music will not make you a better person.

The world needs more noise – consistent and provocative noise.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Identity comments don’t faze self-esteem

Winter has taken my identity, or what’s left of it.

On any day in February, at any time, I can be found wearing at least three layers of clothes – ratty clothes, at that. I get my brother’s hand-me-ups (he’s a mustachioed 13-year-old, already taller than I am), one being his black and blue nylon coat. And some boy ripped all the tassels off my gray hat in eighth grade.

If my chest wasn’t small enough, it’s virtually non-existent now. Whatever subjective curves I had – gone. I am now a little boy.

But this didn’t just start in December. I’ve been a little boy since I was 5. My mom dressed me up as a vagabond for Halloween, cutting the fingertips off my gloves and using her eye pencil to spot my cheeks and chin with stubble. At every house, they asked my sex before I got a piece of candy. What a hassle! That’s probably why I opted for Tinkerbell the next year.

I didn’t wear an underwire bra until I was 14 (even then, I had room inside an A-cup). I got along with boys in high school because I was one. Boys felt OK around me because I was one.

Once I came to college, I had matured enough to fulfill my feminine role or so I thought. My parents and I went out for breakfast the morning I moved into 1300 residence hall last year. The waitress chatted us up a bit after we’d finished our meals.

“How old is he?” she asked my mom in a hushed voice with a smile. I let it go and answered for her.

“I’m 18.” She wouldn’t believe me.

“You must be 12,” she laughed. She thought I was playing around, until my father stepped in.

“No, she’s 18, and she’s a girl.”

I felt uncomfortable because the waitress looked so embarrassed. She mumbled a few apologies, took the check and left. I laughed it off with my parents and forgot about it immediately. We were standing up when she returned.

“Oh, well, now I can see you’re a girl.”

Oh yes, because now that I’m standing, you can clearly make out my voluptuous female figure.

“Your hair’s so short, and you were slouching a bit, so I couldn’t tell.”

OK, lady, you’re making a scene. I didn’t cry or anything, so you don’t really have to apologize.

I’m tired of people feeling sorry for me or giving me that hand on the shoulder and saying, “You’re obviously a girl.” No one is going to know much about me on the first encounter, so what makes gender more significant than other aspects of my character?

I write this confession not only as a testimony to my experience, which may be shared by others, but also as an opportunity to come out of my androgynous closet. I can look like a boy. You don’t know anything I don’t.

So please, don’t try to sympathize when the clerk mistakes me for your little brother. You’re only creating tension. When the nursing home resident called me a “young man,” I felt no loss of pride or self-esteem. Don’t apologize for him or correct him. He might tell me a good joke or show me a magic trick.

And please don’t try to comfort me by reassuring me of my femininity. I create my own. I don’t care about the way I look. I appreciate a 12-year-old boy just as much as I do a 19-year-old girl, so I take it all the same. Who has time to get in a rut about gender identity anyway?
Don’t be so nervous about your pronouns.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Catching up with friends after break

Temple is certainly gracious in giving us an entire month to fall out of all the good work habits we perfected during the fall semester. But most of us were completely separated from our second home, including the people we saw every day: the professor with the drone, the roommate with the girlfriend, the kid who throws up every weekend and even the lady you deny change each morning on the subway. That said, we have a lot to catch up on. So, I’m going to pull another Rob Gordon.

1.) Who got Wall-E for Christmas? Who got Step Brothers or The Dark Knight? Who used the Best Buy gift card they got from their grandma to buy Pineapple Express? I’m sure you did. And I know your friends would be delighted to hear about it, as well as watch each DVD once more before you never touch it again.

2.) Don’t forget to bring up New Year’s Eve. Even though you’ve probably already heard of everyone’s escapades (your at-school-BFF made out with that boy he’s been texting, your roommate doesn’t remember throwing up in a bathtub and your ex-girlfriend had no one to kiss at the stroke of midnight), it’s still surprisingly titillating to hear them all over again – especially with hand gestures.

3.) Also, make sure to complain to your Temple friends. They haven’t heard that since December, you know. They may have forgotten how much you work, how tired you are, how Wendy’s isn’t open late enough or how much your parents procrastinate in depositing Diamond Dollars. Now, maybe you’re saying to yourself: “Oh no, Sarah. I’m afraid I don’t have too much to complain about. How will I keep up with my friends’ conversations?”

Not to worry; the semester has just begun, and everything will hit the fan soon enough.

4.) Something very important to investigate at the start of the new semester is which one of your friends had the least productive winter break.

Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is unlike any other. The riveting tales of worldwide travel, adventure or new experiences do not win. Show me the boy or girl who woke up every afternoon around two, watched every marathon of House on TV and only ventured outside for beer or food – and I’ll show you the talk of the town.

“Oh you went to Europe? Man, I didn’t do anything during break. No, let me tell you: I never got up before noon, and I was so gone, like, every night. Shame it’s over.” I mean, isn’t that who you would be most interested in talking to?

5.) Finally, let your friends know how you’ve changed. Make sure they’re able to handle the new version of you. Because if they’re not, they’re out. Let them know that you’ve got standards, now. You’ve got a vision. It’s not just the haircut or the new clothes. While you were watching your dog pee on the carpet underneath the beer pong table on New Year’s Eve, you had an epiphany. (Just please be modest in a couple weeks when you relapse into your old self – there’s nothing worse than a haughty loser.)

I don’t want to be cynical. I don’t want to say that one month can’t account for any drastic personal changes or fascinating life transitions.

Don’t people save their transformations for the summer, anyway? Remember Suzy had breasts all of a sudden come September?

But some people might even say that the winter break was too long – that they missed out on too much. So, whether you really did discover your free spirit, or you remained relatively stagnant going into the new year, Temple missed you, if not for anything but your tuition payment.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: Show some New Year’s resolve

After finals are done next week, we can all breathe a sigh of relief that we don’t have to really learn anything new for a month. However, the feeling of freedom and relaxation does not last long as the next week approaches, bringing final grades and thus making or breaking your holiday.

Just as we can prepare for finals as in any life situation, we can learn from them. The same way you promise yourself to study more next semester, you can promise yourself to eat better next year. And December is a time just as good as any to learn from mistakes (or achievements). The holidays provide a built-in opportunity for us to get our acts together: New Year’s resolutions.

Maybe this semester was rough for you because it’s your first year off campus, and you’ve lost your work ethic to parties and video games. Could it be you wasted time on something that turned out to be insignificant compared to something better, which you neglected?

Perhaps you’re like me and you brought your cat from home to live with you, and she turned out to be almost as stressful and fickle as a newborn baby. In short, there is always something more you can take away from the end of semester (or a year) than just your physics grade.

Granted, an F in life is a little more serious than an F in any class (although the latter can cause the former). However, in addition to learning from experiences, we react to things pretty similarly across all aspects, be it a lower-than-expected grade or a shredded bicycle tire. I’m not suggesting we react with the same intensity but rather in the same manner. Me, I’ll cry and whine about both.

Consequently, we use similar coping mechanisms, as well. Maybe you shrug off a 2.0 GPA just as you would if you were turned down for sex.

“NBD, man. No big deal.”

I’d say most of us, though, plan to work harder. You start ticking off new goals in your head. You’re going to study more, drink less, pay attention in class, join study groups, wake up earlier, etc. Just listen to “Better Son/Daughter” by Rilo Kiley, and you’ll get it.

It’s definitely a good outlook and is most effective in the worst situations.

Once, I was riding on my bike in the rain and the crank starting eating my shoelace. Even as I pedaled to safety on the side of Broad Street, my shoe was being sucked inward.

So I’m hobbling on one foot in the rain, with the other wound around the left pedal between the two sides of the Vine Street Expressway. I could count on Philadelphia for not giving me any help at all – the only attention I got was a group of boys walking down the sidewalk, telling me to get out of the street before I get run over. Thanks.

But, after trying to pedal backward to reverse the situation and then finally taking my left shoe off, I got back on the proverbial horse (or bike) and kept riding. I didn’t blame the bike, the rain or the boys. I just promised myself I’d check my shoe more often to make sure it was tied.

Unfortunately, these promises to ourselves are not very well enforced. At least we had good intentions, though, right? I mean, what are New Year’s resolutions if not just opportunities to try new things? If you thought they were lifetime commitments, you are certainly mistaken. We don’t really want to stop drinking, go jogging every morning or be nicer to strangers. It’s just nice to pretend for a little while.

If anything, you should at least promise yourself the next time you see a small girl bound to her bicycle by her shoe, you will help a sister out.

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

Offbeat Academia: For once, take helpful advice for finals week prep

“The finals are coming! The finals are coming!” the well-known American character Paul Revere shouted as he rode his galloping bicycle throughout Temple’s Main Campus.

You probably didn’t learn that in your middle school history classes, but since 1775, it is this patriot who has warned us of cumulative exams approaching at the end of every semester.

Anyway, my point is clear: we are drawing ever closer to the dreaded finals this December.

If you read a magazine or any yahoo.com article oriented toward college kids, the authors will tell you all about good study habits, how to prioritize your work and party time or how to cope with below-par reading environments.

You’ll hear all about how to prepare: get enough sleep, don’t drink so much, do a little bit everyday and on and on. It’ll be coming from all sides: parents, friends and teachers. Even your books and your computer will be beckoning you to stay with them.

I’m not even going to touch on that. I’ve never been a fan of preaching to the choir. Plus, I’m a student myself – why would I want to give and receive the same dull and regurgitated advice?
Besides, I think we’re more prepared than others think. We deal with tests like this daily – even bigger than the academic finals we endure every year. And we know how to train ourselves for them. It’s all a matter of applying ourselves. Use what we learn outside the university.

Usually, I know when to say ‘no’ because I have to get up early, I have a lot of work to do or it’s only noon. I encounter the same moral dilemma when it comes down to a personal decision – whether to be selfish or to be selfless, that is the question (and I think a more difficult one than the differences in scientific approach between Charles Darwin and Edward Jenner).

I’m glad my grades don’t depend on my ethics.

When a man knocked on my door, for example, on a Friday night and asked I give him and his buddy a few dollars for repainting the house numbers on the sidewalk along the entire block, sure, I had a couple bills in my pocket, and sure it was cold outside.

But I didn’t ask them to do this favor for me, so I shouldn’t be held responsible for its compensation. Call me ugly, but you should know our number was the only one painted incorrectly (while the rest of our block is 19-something, we’re in an alternate universe at 1209).

Another big worry for college kids is being able to study or being able to absorb the information we learn in class and recall it during an exam. You may be thinking: “I just can’t remember all these people, facts and theories. How does this professor expect me to pass this test?” But you can remember and you can prepare yourself – you prove this in other aspects of your life.

Usually, when I’m preparing myself for a meeting with a figuratively distant friend, I make sure to read up on our letters of correspondence. I’m literally studying for social interaction. And I’m sure you’ve prepped for an inevitable argument before.

Before I went home for Thanksgiving break, I made sure to have my facts straight and my morals and dignity mentally intact because I knew I was going to face opposition (plus, who doesn’t love telling their grandparents why they don’t wear deodorant?). So if you can still rattle off President-elect Barack Obama propaganda to sour Republicans, why can’t you remember all your Spanish business vocabulary?

We deal with real-life situations frequently enough to overcome multiple-choice. Let’s utilize our developed problem solving skills.

How else could you have gotten away with stealing alcohol from your parents while they’re in the room?

Sarah Sanders can be reached at sarah.sanders@temple.edu.

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