'Juicy Campus' comes my way

News of a college gossip site adding State College's campus to its online database rippled through the Fraternity Monday night, and continued to be discussed and read well into Tuesday afternoon.

The site, Juicy Campus, allows users to anonymously post about "the juice" on their campus. Most of the posts have to do with Greek Life, discussing everything from what the cool houses on campus are, the easiest sororities to hook up with and where the most drugs are done.

It also has a nasty side. Several girls have threads all to themselves, and some of the comments are down right nasty. Reports were surfacing that a thread about one girl was so ruthless, she was seen fleeing her sorority house in tears after reading it.

The site quickly traveled through my Fraternity, and we all had a good laugh as the users discussed what fraternity is most guido and who throws the best parties. E-mails were issued from our president warning us not to get involved, his argument being that it simply makes us appear childish, stupid and a little nerdy to have to defend ourselves over the internet. Further e-mails were sent warning that the site was not anonymous, because every computer has a unique number that can be tracked and used in civil law cases. I myself have enjoyed it, even as Eleanor Roosevelt's timeless words ran through my head, if for no other reason than to chuckle over the pissing matches the fraternity guys get into debating who is the coolest on campus.

But, the site also epitomizes a tragic truth about Greek Life on our campus. The Greek community is supposed to be just that; however, more often than not, chapters become bitter rivals and spend more of their energy competing against one another, and in the process, alienating themselves from the rest of the community and campus. On a great number of campuses, mine included, non-Greeks have little regard for the Greek community, because they view it as a superficial drinking club, and this stereotype is only furthered by our boorish behavior.

Now, I will not deny I myself have gotten caught up in the rivalries, but I truly regret I haven't worked at trying to bridge the gaps my chapter has with others. The Greek community is easily the largest on campus, and our potential to impact the university as a whole is unparralled becasue of our sheer size. But, we are bogged down by our petty differences and need to establish supremacy.

We follow the classic -ism mold in Greek Life. We look down at the "GDIs" because they fail to affiliate with a Greek organization and therefore are not worthy to hang out with us. We look down at other houses and stereotype them as "nerds, meatheads, guids, sluts, coke heads," etc, all to boost ourselves up and feel better about our chapter's place amongst the community.

Greek life takes such a beating in media and public opinion, and it is sad to see that we feed the beast over a public domain no less. Fraternity life has benefited me and my college career, but it is certainly sad to see how much potential the community and myself have wasted.

...Passing on by

Another day has passed in State College Town, something that seems to happen with increasing frequency.

Today was Big Brother day at our chapter, the cliched fraternity ritual of revealing to the pledges who their big brother's will be for the semester and getting them absolutely loaded. Our chapter has calmed this habit the past few semesters, switching from the big brother providing a "Family Liquor" to his little to beer. This was done to prevent any more tragic drinking deaths, which tend to occur more often from the consumption of liquor, and less frequently from beer.

Now, as Pledge Educator, I am unable to take a little. I don't frequently get one because I am not a great man flirt, or rusher, so I usually stand in the back during this event and try not to nod off. But because I have gotten to know the new guys, last night's event struck a cord with me. I recalled my big brother night, and how scared we were locked in a room and made to listen to some awful music on repeat for hours on end. I remembered nervously fumbling through the information I had been forced to remember and recite with my pledge brothers. And I remembered the awesome elation as I stood before the chapter, said my name, announced my intention to pledge, and was greeted by my grinning big brother welcoming me to the chapter.

But last night, I felt the tight grip of time on my innards as the process was renewed. I recalled that awesome excitement I felt even as I was unsure of what lay ahead of me as I joined the Greek world. Today, I find myself in a similar predicament with college winding down, unsure of what is to come. But I do not feel the same elation, the same excitement. Instead it is dread and fear. I will be forced to leave the comfy confines of college and trudge out into the world, once again forced to make my mark and find my niche.

As I lay in bed last night, I reminisced about my college career. I thought about how my life would be different if I didn't join the fraternity. I thought about the friends I've made and the people I've met, and I thought about the people I fell out of touch with after joining.

Eventually, I just smiled and rolled over. The beauty about life is that it is unscripted, it is unknown. People get upset with you when you tell them the end of the movie because it devalues the enjoyment, and that is synonymous with life. I am scarred shitless, there is no question, but when I lie awake at night in 5 years staring at the ceiling, I am sure I will come to a similar conclusion as the one I did last night.

"And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back."

-From The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost

Numbers Crunch

My life is in total and utter disarray, or at least it feels that way. College is such an unbelievable whirlwind that it becomes difficult to remember what you ate for lunch, and so far, senior year has by far been much worse. There is always something on the horizon, and as soon as you catch up, you get a phone call about a bar trip and you wake up at 3 p.m. the next day with clothes and Chinese food strewn across your room. Fortunately, I have inspiration on my side, in the form of my Big Brother in the Fraternity.

He graduated last semester, and has spent the past week and a half in State College Town visiting, the unfortunate victim of a ruthless job market. He graduated with a degree in Broadcast Journalism, and after a summer flipping Brewers tickets, selling beer at Miller Park, and driving all over the great state of Wisconsin (where he hails from) he failed to find any sort of employment. So he returned "home" to drink away his despair for a few weeks.

He is not alone. His pledge brother is returning to State College Town this weekend as well, he also jobless following graduation. Another brother struggled for 8 months parking cars and serving Italian food before he landed an entry-level job with ESPN. Now, we don't exactly export the most marketable people in the world, but this has not been a common trait just of my fraternity. I continue to hear tales of people struggling to find employment once they leave the college arena, something my father is wont to warn me on.

I recently (like, 5 minutes ago) completed an application to one of the most competitive after graduation programs in the United States (it shall remain nameless). I have high hopes for my acceptance, but fear the fall out. With stories about the market crash on top of all the budget cuts and staff slashes at newspapers and media outlets around the country, what is a writer to do?

My goal is to score a job before Christmas, and if I am able to do it, I will consider myself unbelievably fortunate. So many of my fraternity brothers waited and waited to begin searching for jobs, instead ignoring it in an attempt to soak up their senior years. Inflation is rampant everywhere, but nothing has been deflated quite like a college diploma. Work sucks, but probably not as much as my big brother's days.

Me: So, BSB, how are you liking your triumphant return?
BSB: Well, the days are just brutal to get through. I am not a TV watcher, but I have nothing to do all day while everyone is at class. I watched every episode of Intervention on demand today.
Me: Well, you're enjoying the partying right?
BSB: Yea, but sleeping on a couch for two weeks is starting to take its toll on my mental health.

Now, we all dream of having the college life forever, of having little to no responsibility and partying at every possible moment, but if one of the great slackers I've ever known is having trouble enjoying two weeks of nothing but partying, maybe we all should put our attention on becoming gainfully employed.

Speaking of partying, tailgate tomorrow, fuckin' excited. I have a video from one of last semester's graduates who actually is gainfully employed that is quite humorous, but it is on my phone and I'm trying to figure out how to save it to my computer without shelling out $30 for Quicktime Pro. So, hopefully I can get that posted for everyone's viewing pleasure. Have a great weekend readers.

Yankee Stadium

I submitted this for publication in the school newspaper, but they don't seem too interested. Oh well.

The Bronx Bombers will bid farewell to their venerable stadium this weekend, and how fitting the House that Ruth Built will host the Sultan of Swat’s hometown team for its final festivities.

There will be no playoffs for the Yankees this season, snapping a 13-year streak of October baseball in the Bronx. They will have to settle for three September dates against the only team behind them in the American League East standings, the Baltimore Orioles.

I made my first visit to the Stadium on its next to last weekend, and while the product on the field has consistently driven New Yorkers nuts this summer, I basked in the glory of one of the truly beautiful moments of my young life.

It was a father-son trip to the Ol’ Stadium, but on this day, the son was taking his father on his 50th birthday. We decided we needed to see the relic of a park before the Pinstripers moved across the street, and I cringed back in March when I purchased tickets against the Rays. But the Yanks are going home, and the upstarts from the Confederacy are on to the playoffs.

And while playoff optimism floated out to be replaced by oppressive humidity, I will not soon forget the day I went to Yankee Stadium with my dad. See, I’ve been a sports nut since I broke the womb like a running back breaking the line. My dad’s interest in mainstream sports has blossomed as I’ve aged, but he keeps his true love no secret when recalling how he simulated bike pedaling with my legs when I was a toddler. Many children got bedtime stories about baseball and football heroes, but instead, I heard of Eddie Merckx and Greg LeMond.

But as the blistering sun greeted us as we took our seats in the right field bleachers, our interests seemed to merge. We were both in awe of the history and tradition that is steeped in every corner and crevice of the great park. No sooner had we finished surveying the scene we had seen depicted so many times on television, than did the Bleacher Creachers begin to serenade the Yanks as Carl Pavano went into the wind-up to deliver the day’s first pitch.

“John-ny! John-ny! John-ny,” they all chanted.

“What are they doing?” I quizzically remarked to my father.

But Left Fielder Damon answered the query before it left my lips, squatting, grinning and pointing toward the right field stands. They continued, chanting each player’s name, and he in turn, turned, and saluted the fans. My father and I could not help but grin at this quirky but admirable habit that probably dates my years. These rough and tumble New Yorkers, who we so often snicker at during our trips to the Big Apple, still show respect and appreciate the game before them, something I could not help but attribute to the Ol’ Ball Field.

My father and I were treated first to a history lesson, second to a ball game this past Sunday, and how fitting that on this day, the Captain, Derek Jeter, tied Lou Gehrig’s all-time hits record at Yankee Stadium with a solo home run, the fourth of the day to land in those same right field bleachers we sat in. We filed out shortly there after, with the heat and a long commute home wearing down our will. But despite that, my Pops still managed to lean over to me, with a twinkle in his eye, and offer the wonderful words of a father.

“Thanks, Bud, that was fun.” Only the father of a journalist could be so succinct.

A Frenetic First Week

My apologies to my loyal readers (hahaha, I have very few thus far), the first week is always a whirlwind blend between hangovers, rush events and syllabi. Just a few thoughts from my last first week of school:

(1) Journalism students reside in one of the deepest pits of hell
Do you remember that cute girl in high school that sat at the front of the class and had to be admitted to the hospital after hyper extending her shoulder because she raised her hand with such enthusiasm each day (neither do I, because I went to a single-sex school)? Well, in addition to this over eager attitude, journalism students take part in the equivalent of a nerd dick-measuring contest. I have a steadfast rule not to participate in the first day discussion of any of my major classes for fear of sliding into this ungodly conversation. Not one of them can begin a conversation without saying, "Well, when I worked for 'X awesome newspaper everyone in the class has heard of' this summer..." Great. You had a job. Why must you spout your resume before you offer your opinion? Will you be deemed unfit to contribute if your byline hasn't appeared on the New York Times' front page? I suppose in a profession where we comment on others' lives instead of living our own, we are incapable of letting our actions speak for themselves, because, well, lets face it, we do very little acting at all.

(2) Freshman can't drink
I chuckled when reading the stories coming out of university board rooms over the past month, reporting that college chancellors and presidents want to push lawmakers to lower the drinking age to 18, with the idea it will cut down on binge drinking in the dorms, since they have failed to do it themselves. All laughing aside, binge drinking has potentially fatal consequences, and as someone who came into college with little to no drinking experience, I was at a very high risk in getting myself in trouble. Fortunately, I merely made our housekeeper's life much more miserable by throwing up all over the community bathroom. (Note: if you live in the dorms, I encourage you to get a little something for the housekeepers around Christmas time. They really have a miserable job.)
Audrey and I were leaving a rush party to head home for the night when I noticed a young kid attempting to stumble home. I wanted to follow him back to the dorms and document it for your amusement. Audrey had no such thoughts of grandeur. This guy was in particularly poor shape, however. He was not so much stumbling as he was walking nearly sideways, leaning his right shoulder forward, hunched at the waste, staggering with each step. It was as if he was leaving battle with a severed head in his right hand and he wanted all to see it as he romped on home.
My roommate had a less humorous encounter with one of these neophytes. As he was standing around the keg this past weekend, he felt a warm sensation wash over the lower region of his leg. Assuming it was coming from the effects of Tropical Storm Hanna, and being that it was night time, he could not figure out where the warmth that enveloped his leg originated from. A quick glance at at the kid standing next to him, with the "Dude, I just puked all over your leg" look in his eye told him all he needed to know. Important to keep your head on a swivel and leave yourself room for an escape. Also, a great way to exit a crowded room at these parties is to act as though you will vomit. People will tackle each other to get out of your way.

(3) Marijuana is a far superior drug to alcohol.
I understand the potential legal issues I may face in my future for penning this next graph, but I'm keeping myself anonymous for a reason, mostly due to my affinity for the herb. But, in all honesty, from a purely drug perspective, alcohol is a miserable experience.
I really do not enjoy the sensation of drunkenness. You have little control over your body, you act in ways you would not otherwise, and you almost always do something stupid, quite often to your own body, be it injuring yourself (punching windows), injuring someone you like/love (offensive language/behavior) or injuring your reputation (hooking up with slam pigs). Also, if it was a "successful night," i.e. you got blitzed out of your mind and remember little, you likely ordered $25 worth of heinous Chinese food, threw it up all over your bathroom floor and failed to get out of bed until 3 p.m. when rotting General Tso's finally overpowered your drunken sleep. How is this considered successful?
Now, I am not one that advocates marijuana's artistic enhancers or perceived enlightening qualities, because it has very few. Often, when I get really high, I have all of these ideas I perceive as great, maybe jot down a few, and then read them the next morning and burst out laughing at their absurdity. But as far as mind alterers go, weed blows booze out of the water. It lowers your inhibitions but keeps you in control of your mind and body, allowing for good conversation and reflection. I can hardly shut up when I smoke, and I simply love to get high with a good friend and shoot the shit. It also improves your appreciation for music, and can make a dull book much more interesting. There are few repercussions in the morning, other than apathy, but few college students are overly exited about waking up before 2 p.m., stoned or otherwise.
Booze is clearly my drug of choice for partying, but recreationally, it just does not get it done on a consistent basis. Other than draining my bank account, I rarely regret smoking pot, assuming I would have otherwise lounged around doing nothing anyway. Pot can no doubt waste your time, but, again, college students do this with tremendous proficiency anyway; pot is merely an enhancer to this hobby. As crazy as it may sound, I have a great deal of friends because I smoke pot with them, but still friends I value even when not using with them. People I meet during drinking are usually a hazy memory, and those relationships tend to be awkward outside of booze-fueled conversations.

My apologies for not updating more regularly. If you do happen to come across the blog and enjoy it, or have any thoughts at all, I encourage you to leave your feedback. Nothing helps a writer write like comments, positive or negative. Until next time.