JENNY YANG
Staff Writer
Every person on earth eventually asks the same three questions: Who am I? What is the meaning of life? Am I alone? The answers are hard to find. Who we are now is not likely who we will be in 10 minutes, 10 months or 10 years. The meaning of life will bring joyful memories in one context and in others will seem like the biggest oxymoron of all time. Finally, no matter how many friends and family we have, we must all come to terms that we are all ultimately alone.
So, it seems as though I’ve just answered the three great questions of humanity: Who am I? Me. What is the meaning of life? Um. Am I alone? Yes. Wow, and I did it all in monosyllabic answers. I am a genius. So now that I’ve single-handedly uncovered the Earth’s mysteries, I have a more important question on my mind.
Where has my spirit gone? As in my Pepperdine spirit. Since freshman year, my amount of school pride has steadily declined proportionately to the amount of years I have remaining. As I climb up the ladder of seniority, I simultaneously climb down my own willingness to get “Pepped out” for the university. Call it laziness. Call it apathy. Call it foolish. Call it the ugly bastard child of ingratitude and pretension. The funny thing is that whatever label you want to give me, I just don’t care.
Somewhere between frosh follies, nighttime coffee runs to the HAWC, scholastic achievements, BHRs, bonding with friends, Convos and concerts, my time here has come and gone. The other day I was on main campus for the first time in months. Someone stopped me and asked if I was a transfer. They had never seen me before.
I have some beef with this. What is with you people who know all 2,792 undergraduates? Admittedly, this is a small school and it is easy to know the person next to you or at least someone who knows someone who knows the person next to you. (We could play the seven degrees of separation game here, but that would be getting off the point.) But there are those exceptional characters who literally everyone knows and who knows everyone.
A few questions for you: How do you keep names straight? Do you quiz yourself late at night with flashcards? How do you have the time to exchange information with so many people? Do you not attend class? Am I the only one who sees these people as anomalies to be studied in some sort of museum?
After shaking off the indignity of not being known by one of “those people,” I wandered around a bit in the Sandbar and came to the realization that the time has come to pass the torch. As fun as it would be to go out in a blaze of glory, I’ve chosen the more reclusive path. Like landing an airplane or launching a perfect spit wad, I’ll soon slip out the door of the bubble.
With such an exit on the horizon, I’ve chosen to cut myself some slack and fly my school-spirit flag at half-mast. This is probably partially due to the effort theory that states that anything requiring extensive effort is generally not worth it. It’s probably also partially due to the disease known as senioritis.
I never quite recovered from this illness since I contracted it senior year of high school, but until lately it has been stifled in quiet remission. Too bad it’s one of those viruses that never go away… like mono… or herpes. Symptoms include skipping class for no reason, forgetting assignments and missing appointments, not to mention an unnatural desire to spend money that you don’t have to go out on the weekends and a weird rash on your left ankle. I can’t imagine mono or herpes being much worse.
The blessing (or curse) of the entire scenario goes back to not caring. Perhaps I’ll fail. Perhaps people will stop liking me. Perhaps I’ll look like a turtle whenever I dance. But four years have taught me one thing: Sometimes you’ve just got to shrug your shoulders, keep on moving and say what the heck. So, where has my school spirit gone? Apparently, straight to my head.
Does your roommate’s lab partner’s brother have a cure for my disease? E-mail me at jlyang@pepperdine.edu
02-17-2005