Godiva Reisenbichler | Student Life

But because this is the season of giving and receiving, there are a few things that every college student should give to himself or herself in preparation for finals and then heading home for break. You know how flight attendants always instruct you to take care of your own oxygen mask before assisting others? This is that kind of thing. So without further ado: the college kid’s end-of-semester gift guide for giving to himself or herself.

Below you will find a veritable smorgasbord of do’s and don’ts. Some may work for you; others may make you want to throw up a little bit in your mouth. Choose selectively.

There’s something about finals that makes Washington University kids turn into rabid neurotics. This year, consider not freaking out about your lack of memorization of the textbook. Your life will go on if you get a B+. This is something that I’m not personally very good at, but it’s a suggestion that helps you keep perspective. It will make finals a more tolerable process and save your jaw from all that painful clenching.

In that vein, leave yourself time for breaks. Take half an hour to work out and then go have dinner and actually talk to people. It will allow all that reading you’ve been doing to actually sink in. Even though you think you don’t have the time, you do. Just spend less of it on Words with Friends.

Don’t blackout on the one night you have off. You can call me lame, but I’ve learned from experience. It leaves you tired and kills your entire day that could be used productively, resulting in a more congested work schedule. The feeling of having a palate expander inside your skull while small fish try and swim up your digestive tract does not make Kant easier to read.

Don’t stay up all night. Yeah, everyone thinks you’re badass when you say you haven’t slept in, like, four whole days. But what you’ve really been doing by not sleeping in, like, four whole days, is staying up all night in a full body tinnitus, rendering you incapable of thinking, and then nodding off all day like some expiring junkie. All that Red Bull does not a smarter you make. Oh, and by Red Bull, I mean your friend’s Adderall.

Lastly, maintain your hygiene. It’s good for me and it’s good for you. It’s good for me because when I sit next to you in the library, it won’t smell like kitty litter, and I don’t have to worry about a mother bird returning to the nest in your head to regurgitate some worms. It’s good for you because feeling fresh will help you maintain focus and showers are invigorating in a way. On a similar note, I know pajamas are comfortable, but if you wear the clothes you are used to doing nothing in, it makes you more lethargic—at least in my experience.

Godiva Reisenbichler | Student Life

The whole scandal sickens me, and the university was right to fire everyone. A college football program was valued over a basic moral commitment to protect children. Gosh, it just seems so, what’s the word I’m looking for—depraved, when you say it that way. So what the hell went wrong?

From my understanding of the situation, here is what happened starting in March of 2002 and ignoring the previous 10 years of reported potential abuse: A graduate student walked in on Sandusky anally penetrating one of the boys who was part of Sandusky’s charitable organization, The Second Mile, in the locker room showers. The boy was about 10 years old. The graduate student reported the incident to Joe Paterno, who later reported the incident to Tim Curley, Penn State’s athletic director. Curley consulted Gary Schultz, the university’s interim senior vice president for finance and business. Schultz and Curley held a meeting with the grad student, who reported what he saw. At the end of March, Curley and Schultz decided that the appropriate punishment would be to take away Sandusky’s keys to the Lasch Football Building’s locker room. Bad Jerry. You sit now, without your locker room, and you think about what you’ve done.

No police report was filed, and the next time the graduate student was asked about what he saw was in his grand jury testimony in December. Of 2010.

Pardon my language, but what the f—? Sandusky must have been the defensive coordinator descended from above because, otherwise, this is just too messed up. In what world do you not inform the proper authorities of this? Is Penn State football exempt from the basic standards of human decency? It appears so.

Under the law, Joe Paterno was only required to inform his superior, which he did when he reported the incident to his athletic director. I feel, under the seemingly draconian rules by which I abide, that this is simply not enough. Under those same laws, Curley and Schultz were required to report the incident to the police. They did not. Nor did Paterno press the issue further. So he is not innocent by any means.

Joe Paterno has had a wonderful career. He is an excellent football coach, and has, unfortunately, been caught in the fire and brimstone that this sex scandal has brought upon Penn State. To be honest, there is probably too much media attention being brought his way. People messed up way more than he did, but he has to take some responsibility for what happened. The board was right to fire him despite his pledge to retire at the end of the season. He is not a target in the ongoing investigation, and that is just. His legacy at Penn State should remain intact, but Joe had a major lapse in judgment.

While I understand the impact and position that Joe Paterno has had at Penn State, it is baffling to me that these students are rioting in protest of his dismissal. Jon Stewart made that point abundantly clear when addressing the remainder of Penn State’s football season: “No one’s going to take that away. Because obviously you’re young and that would be a traumatic experience. And we wouldn’t want that memory to scar you for life.” All at Penn State should let that line stew for a little bit, and then reevaluate their actions and the ways in which they are approaching this whole mess.

Becky Zhao | Student Life

Isn’t the Occupy movement for the disgruntled 99 percent? Yes, it is. But we can easily turn ourselves into a really intimidating 99 percent. So why are we disgruntled? Because we are students. What do we hate? Everything. Let’s grow our collective beards, don eyeglasses with prescription-less lenses and flex our Occupy muscles. Put one car at the entrance on Kingsland, another at the entrance on Melville and let’s shut it down. Sure, no one will be able to drive to and from their apartments in the alley, but we’re Occupiers. We bike, because cars are a product of the corporate American machine that suffocates us each and every day with their subliminal advertising and their lobbyists and…Why can we do this? Because it’s a movement, and, apparently, movements these days don’t need a purpose.

I was never initially opposed to the Occupy Wall Street movement. It seemed reasonable that the jobless would be upset at the uneven distribution of wealth in this country. They have every right to protest. But as the occupying has spread from Wall Street to other areas across the country, I have stopped considering it valid. The more news coverage the movement receives, the more ridiculous it appears. There’s no cohesion, there’s no clear goal. It seems more like a way for those without jobs to congregate and pass their days, compiling all their misery into one shapeless, directionless “Maury” special.

I’m not bashing unemployment. It’s too high right now. But to say that sitting around Zucotti Park bothering bankers that work very hard for their money is a productive way of getting jobs back is ridiculous. You know what would help you get a job? Actively searching for one. The Occupy movement doesn’t seem to be addressing the problem of wealth discrepancy. More likely, it seems to be annoyed with the fact that Goldman Sachs is there at all. They aren’t raising awareness; they are getting mocked and are trivializing the issue at hand.

So as I sit here, with my butt comfortably occupying my couch, thinking about the wonders that could come from occupying the alley behind my apartment, I realize it’s a ridiculous idea. But that’s OK, because we’d have more valid reasons than those occupying the park in front of the Jimmy John’s in Bloomington, Ind. right? There’s too much mayo on your sandwiches! Please put less mayo on the sandwiches so I can go home to my wife and child and take a damn shower! Otherwise I will continue to play hacky sack in a fruitless effort to either inconvenience you or prove a point. Whichever comes first.

Godiva Reisenbichler | Student Life

I’ve diagnosed myself with a severe case of FOMO, or “fear of missing out.” I’m terrified of saying no to something and then having something really awesome happen while I’m not there. Couple that with a lot of energy and a penchant for the type of beverage served at a bar, and I find myself in a world of too much yes.

Ask me if I want to go to dinner and I’ll say yes before I consider if I have work or a conflict. Drinks? Count me in. Want to play basketball? Sure, forget that essay that’s due in an hour. I hate saying no more than I like saying yes. I don’t want to disappoint. And I love company. I habitually gravitate towards social situations. Then when it comes down to event time, I remember the other thing or two that I’ve said yes to and am forced to choose, which makes me feel uncomfortable and inevitably frustrates the other parties. To be totally honest, there are events I commit to that I don’t even want to be a part of. I end up punishing myself with my propensity for yes-ing.

So what do you do with a problem like this? The fairly simple solution is to think before responding to invitations. While that may be the case, that doesn’t address the sinking sensation I experience when I say no. Perhaps I overvalue my presence in the day-to-day activities of my friends. Either way I find myself stuck. Am I selfish for keeping my options open, or am I caring for wanting to contribute?

In my social escapades I’ve had wonderful highs and some ugly lows. I’ve found myself in unnecessary fights but also had some life-changing nights. Yes is a powerful word. It is a gateway that beckons with the thrill of possibility, but it can also feel like shackles, binding you to mistaken “OKs.”

I would like to think that my musings on this topic will change the way I behave in the future. But it’s more likely than not that the next time I’m faced with this kind of situation I’ll throw out a yes without considering the consequences. So to all those I’ve blown off in the past, and to those I will blow off in the future, I’m sorry. Just know that I really do want to be there…I just happened to have said yes to someone else earlier.

Godiva Reisenbichler | Student Life

As college students, his products are integral to our day-to-day lives. What would we do without our iPods or iTunes? How many of your friends have an iPhone? His laptops dominate the college market. I think President Obama said it best when he said, “There may be no greater tribute to Steve’s success than the fact that much of the world learned of his passing on a device he invented.”

I wouldn’t say anything about this man’s life that hasn’t already been better said by people who are better equipped to say these things. But I can say that it felt very strange to be so moved by the passing of a guy I knew only through the piece of technology I used to write this article.

I’ve never been an Apple fiend. In fact, it would be safe to say I’ve had a fairly contentious relationship with their products. When I was 6 years old, all my friends were enjoying “Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?” on their fancy new Windows 95 PCs. I was stuck with one of the original PowerMacs. You know, before the tower. This was hugely frustrating. All the cool computer games were made for Windows, and I couldn’t bring my saved schoolwork home. The only way to portably save files then was through a floppy disk. And guess what? Floppy disks didn’t work for both Macs and PCs. So when that ugly Mac finally broke and my family switched to a Dell, it was a very happy day for me. I remained a devoted Windows user up until the summer before I came to college, when I finally switched to a MacBook. I’ve never looked back. I love this thing.

I also once had an iPhone. It was one of the early ones. I hated it. It broke many times. No one could hear me. I couldn’t hear anyone. It was a cool toy. But it was a crappy phone. I’ve since been a devoted BlackBerry user. And while I try to remain loyal, my phone simply doesn’t compare to the current iteration of the device I once owned.

There has been noticeable improvement in the design and functionality of Apple’s gadgets, and that is all because of Jobs. They look great, and they are easy to use. My mom switched to a Mac desktop, ironically on the day Jobs passed. She called me excitedly, telling me that she set up her own wireless printer. Mind you, this is a woman for whom I had to download email attachments, either physically or via instruction over the phone, for a good three to four years.

No one has challenged the dominance of the iPod. I have many fewer BBM contacts than I used to because everyone is switching to Apple. That was the only point of having a BlackBerry, aside from the fact that my clumsy fingers function much better on a physical keyboard.

Something Jobs created, more likely than not, has improved your life in some way. One of his gadgets is probably involved in your day more than once. His death is a monumental moment in our lives, and this is coming from someone who doesn’t even like all of his stuff that much. He changed the face of the planet. When you look for the next innovative piece of technology, you’re going to look for that Apple logo on it, and you’re most likely going to buy it.

The food on campus is so repetitive, and then they take your favorite item off the menu for the sake of variety, therefore Bon Appétit should face the wrath of fire and brimstone. If someone tries to plan something for a night out, we’re sick of the venue, but when there’s no plan, we complain about how lame we are. People complained about the old dorms on the 40, now we regret the fact that the construction never ends. It’s relentless. And remaining in that type of mindset only contributes to the perpetual whining. If one thing sucks, why shouldn’t it all suck?

In some ways, this is a tacky, “appreciate what you have,” kind of deal. But try not to look at it that way. There are definitely a lot of issues with the overall student experience here. They’re just all pretty minor.

I’m going to fire off a series of complaints that I think would be fairly representative of the average student opinion here. Let’s see how petty they are.

Jaded senior walking through the village: “My basil remoulade spread on this packaged sandwich wasn’t locally or sustainably produced on an organic farm within thirty miles of campus. Ugh, and the packaging is under 92 percent recycled plastic. You know that’s the standard percentage that Brown requires of all its plastic goods.” How many students get to complain about basil remoulade in the first place? Shut up.

“It’s so unfair that the new freshmen get Tempur-Pedic mattresses.” Yes, it may be a tad indulgent of the freshman experience and not the best use of the University’s money. But it’s not unfair to you. Know why? Because the more highly qualified, interested, intelligent students this University secures, the more its reputation will grow. That will allow you, sometime in the near future, to stand there with a big, smug smile on your face at your assumedly very important/interesting/world-changing-for-the-better job and say, “Yeah, I went there BEFORE they had those mattresses.” That’s going to feel sweet, because your degree carries the weight it does due to all the efforts the school puts into seemingly stupid, miniscule changes like memory foam mattresses.

Let’s say two students are walking together to brunch on Saturday morning. The first student says, “Last night was so boring.” The second student says, “I know, Wash. U. kids don’t know how to have fun.” While the level of fun at this school can definitely be called into question at times, it’s not like we’re confined to some humdrum, humorless existence.

Simply look at it in perspective: We got into Wash. U. because we are highly intelligent, hard-working students. This makes us more apt to piece together some sort of social calendar in a city that doesn’t exactly cater to student nightlife. And we’re also all mostly slightly socially awkward, introverted nerds with some major insecurities. If someone were to list our most redeeming qualities as a student body, “smooth” wouldn’t be high on the list. Chances are we’ll never achieve “legendary” status as a party school, but I know enough people who wake up feeling like they got hit by a truck to get the feeling that we’re at least trying. But all we can do is our best.

So in five minutes, when I will inevitably throw my next inane, disgruntled quip at something having to do with Wash. U., I will stop, consider the fact that I’m being wildly unappreciative, and say it anyway. I can’t expect you to stop complaining about school, just to appreciate what you have.

I’ve had the unusual opportunity to live in off-campus housing since I was a sophomore. And right around the start of October, for some sophomores, and most juniors, is when the housing panic begins. You have to decide where you want to live and whom you want to live with. That sounds simple. It’s not. Do you want a two- or three-person apartment? Who should live in my actual apartment as opposed to the apartment across the hall? Can we fill an entire building? What if we can’t and we get people we don’t know? Should we live on Kingsbury, Wash. Avenue or U. Drive? Forsyth or Pershing? Inevitably someone will get upset, you will have many housing meetings in which nothing is accomplished, but in the end, chances are you’ll end up OK.

Getting yourselves prepared is just the first step. Then you have to deal with the chaos of the realtors. First, you have Robert’s Realty. If you have been here for a while, you know students used to camp out outside of the realtor’s office all night just to get their choice of building. This is no longer the case. The process has changed slightly. Now you go to the office at your convenience when you have figured out your housing arrangements and put your names down on a list. The earlier you go, the higher you are on the list. Then, Robert’s Realty will call you to tell you that the leasing process is open, so you drag race to the office to beat out the other students. Much safer. If you’re not outdoorsy, this could be considered a plus.

Another option, and in my personal opinion, the most pleasant to deal with, is Quadrangle Housing. They are an independently run company that works in contract with the University. They have buildings on U. Drive, Kingsbury, Wash. Avenue, Pershing and several other locations. If you see off-campus apartments with green-and-red doors and a diamond-shaped plaque displaying the house’s address, it’s a Quadrangle building. Quadrangle provides complimentary basic cable and Internet, and the apartments are kept in very good condition. They’ll even allow you to send your packages to their office right off the loop on Wash. U.’s North Campus. Quadrangle operates on a lottery system, so if you are planning on living with a big group, or really care about your location or a specific building, it’s a gamble.

Then there is a smattering of individual property owners who rent out buildings to students. Some are pleasant. Some are not. It’s really just the luck of the draw. Regardless of who owns your building, or where you end up, living off campus is a big change, but it’s a nice one. You buy your own furniture, you cook your own food, or, if you don’t, you order a lot, and you generally have more freedom to do what you want with your living space. In the end, it’s also a generally less expensive endeavor, particularly if you avoid buying a meal plan.

So to those seeking off-campus housing, good luck. I’ll be chilling here smiling, knowing I’ll never have to hike a sofa up three flights of stairs again.

I was walking to class one afternoon, and decided to stop in quickly for some water. It was hot out. Thought I’d do my body some good and stay hydrated. Where the water cups used to be, even the incredibly small, useless ones, was now a sign that read something like, “Wash. U. wants you to use a water bottle.” I didn’t have a water bottle. So I thought I’d ask the lovely staff at Whispers for a cup. I was denied. So I had to resort to trickery. I asked for hot water, as if I were about to get tea. But no, my plan was foiled once again. So I left the library frustrated, thirsty and bewildered.

I thought the sign said that our school “wants” us to use a water bottle. Not that it requires us to, and if we don’t in fact purchase a water bottle, we are liable to be very uncomfortable and water-less while studying. It’s one thing to promote sustainability. It’s another to seriously inconvenience your students for it, at their expense. Those green flush handles on all the toilets are fantastic, but I’m never going to use them when I have nothing to pee out because I can’t drink water in the library. I’m seriously annoyed with whoever came up with this policy.

I do actually own a water bottle. But on that day, I didn’t bring it. Sometimes that happens. Let’s examine a variety of other situations in which a student may not be able to quench his thirst, shall we?

A young freshman is running through campus. It’s beautiful. Exercise is good for you. All is well. But all of a sudden, the jogger feels faint. Luckily she’s right near Whispers. Perfect! She can stop in and grab a drink of water. Oh, wait, no she can’t. She doesn’t have a water bottle… because she’s jogging! So she faints.

A senior burdened with books for his thesis trudges to campus to crank out some pages. His bag is full, his hands are occupied. He couldn’t even fit a water bottle in there. All of a sudden he’s smacked in the face with a massive headache, because, well, he’s writing a thesis. Luckily, he has some spare Advil in a tiny pocket of his bag. But he can’t choke it down, because there’s no water. So he sits there in misery, can’t get any work done and then doesn’t graduate because he couldn’t complete his thesis in time.

All of this because there are no water cups in Whispers. Ask yourselves, policy makers, “Are those extra green points worth it?” I know we live in some idyllic college society where we are supposed to live in some magically sustainable barter-based utopia, but even utopias need water. Also, while you’re at it, remove those gates on the overpass. People are still biking. And young lovers walking home now have to separate at every gate. Do it for the romantics.

Godiva Reisenbichler | Student Life

If you are unfamiliar with the situation I am referencing, I will enlighten you. On Friday, Sept. 16, Wash. U. students will be presented with both W.I.L.D., which, naturally, entails a slew of day partying, and an event known as DAYGLOW. DAYGLOW describes itself as the “world’s largest paint party.” I’ve never attended DAYGLOW, but I know many people who have, and it is essentially a paint rave. There is loud house music, everyone dresses in white, you pretty much get covered in paint, everyone makes out with each other and there are other sloppy things that college students are wont to do at similarly-themed events. It’s quite a production. If my description wasn’t stimulating enough for you, there are plenty of awesomely edited YouTube videos for you to check out.

Now, there are a few issues that stand in the way of Wash. U.’s largest potential party day ever, or WULPPDE for short. The first is simple: There is a potential time overlap between the two main events. DAYGLOW starts at 8 p.m., while W.I.L.D. goes until 10 p.m.. Clearly, neither entity was in contact with the other to avoid such a scheduling conflict, but such is life, and we must find ways to get past it. One approach would be to use your own discretion in regards to your taste in music. Should you find yourself incredibly disappointed by Mike Posner, your choice is simple. Leave the quad, put on some white clothes, and march over to the Pageant to get your paint-rave on, assuming of course that you are interested in going in the first place. In case you couldn’t deduce this on your own, don’t shower in between. It wouldn’t accomplish much in the way of cleanliness. On the other hand, should you find yourself enthralled with Team 31’s headliner, stay until the act finishes, and more likely than not, DAYGLOW will be in full swing should you want to take part.

Here, we arrive at our second big issue. Some would say, “We go to Wash. U.; we are not bred to party like this!” And this is a legitimate concern, so I have outlined a variety of approaches for Friday the 16th. The traditional: Forget that DAYGLOW even exists; commence your W.I.L.D. routine as you normally would. The half-and-half: Attend the W.I.L.D. day parties, and if you don’t like the acts, take a short nap, and prep yourself for some debauched paint-on-paint action. The bear: You like what W.I.L.D. has to offer, and you also want to experience DAYGLOW, but the thought of getting no rest in between makes your head hurt. I would suggest partying through the opening act on the quad, resting for however long you think necessary, and then arriving at the Pageant a little late. Lastly, the you-should-probably-go-to-a-state-school-because-you-party-too-much: Just go straight through. You’re an animal. Respect.

It is important throughout all of this to be smart, know what you’re capable of, and still have a great time. Last year’s fall W.I.L.D. witnessed an unprecedented number of alcohol-related issues, so it would be unwise to try to top that this year. The consequences would not be good.

Needless to say, I’m already excited for WULPPDE. Stay thirsty—but also hydrated—my friends.

Godiva Reisenbichler | Student Life

So without further ado, welcome back sophomores, juniors and seniors. Freshmen, welcome to college. I will trade places with you. Please, seek me out and we’ll change names and everything. I just want to have four more years of this. If there’s one piece of advice I’ll give you, it’s to not take advice from me. But if you choose to ignore that suggestion, take full advantage of everything. Say no to nothing. (Except drugs. Drugs are bad.)

That’s the best part about college. Every door is open, and your parents aren’t there to tell you to go to your room and do your chemistry homework (Pre-meds will soon find that they will be telling themselves to do that). As a freshman, you may not always feel like the coolest kid on the block because, well, you aren’t. But that’s OK. You have so much to look forward to, and as someone who’s nearing the end of his college career, I am supremely jealous.

In some ways I feel like a freshman this coming semester. I have not been at school since December, thanks to a lovely vacation in Florence. Oh, excuse me, I meant a lovely semester abroad. One more piece of advice: study abroad. The only negative is that I got so spoiled, I now have a really hard time eating Italian food. Otherwise, it feels fresh returning to St. Louis, taking in all it has to offer (BBQ and Budweiser), writing for Forum again, hanging out with friends I haven’t seen in almost a year, using my brain… It’s all very exciting.

What’s great is that a new year is also, in a way, a fresh start. A nice clean ball of Silly Putty that’s yours to mold, until you drop it in the puke in some corner of the first party you go to. What I like to do at the beginning of each year is set goals that I will ultimately fail to meet. So, in my wizened year as a senior, I decided to make my goals very, very achievable.

These are goals that we, as a collective student body, can be confident that we will reach together and can later celebrate accomplishing. This year, I pledge to do the following: eat (not in any specific manner, healthily, less, more, better food, nothing like that), just to eat. I pledge to try and sleep in my own bed, but I can’t make any promises. I will go to class at least once. And now for the shocker—I will brush my teeth EVERY (yes, you read that right, EVERY) night. Whoa. I just needed to gather myself after that shocker. Try the same. Make some goals (easy or otherwise), enjoy yourselves, and experience what you have.

So now, stop reading my article; you’re at college. Go do something fun.

Charlie Low is a senior in Arts & Sciences. Write to Charlie Low at chlow@wustl.edu