Student Life Archives

There are a few moments in my life that I consider worthy of the label “life-changing.” Sure, I could recall the time I opened up my acceptance letter to this school; that was nice. Maybe I could share with you the day my first-born child entered this world; that might be considered kind of special. But I feel like it’s my duty to tell you about the day my life changed forever. The day I became a Guitar Hero.

My brother, the ultimate video game nerd, informed me one fateful day in the year of our Lord, 2005, that a revolutionary game had been released. A Playstation game that dwarfed all others. “Blasphemy!” I said. Surely there is no greater game than Katamari Damacy. Oh how na’ve I was. Kevin, my brother, described to me what was, essentially, “Dance Dance Revolution” with a guitar theme.How much more lame could that possibly sound? I would rather pretend to be a microscopic alien prince rolling over humans, cities and weather patterns.

Kevin and I thought it over and decided to buy the game that we were positive would be a waste of $70. “Guitar Hero” came with a controller shaped like a guitar, complete with whammy bar and stick-on decals. We popped the disc in and were immediately bombarded with images of Gibson guitars and stacks of Marshall 150-watt amps. Pure rock fury spilled from the Dolby 5.1 Surround speakers. The whole apartment shook. I thought maybe I had judged “Guitar Hero” too quickly.

Sure enough, we bought the game at 3 p.m. and stopped playing at 7 p.m. the next day. We barely passed the halfway point. Never, in the entirety of video game history, had one game hypnotized its players quite like “Guitar Hero” had just done to me. Maybe the game was great because of its song selections: a perfect blend of old and new, light and heavy, famous and obscure, Franz Ferdinand and Pantera. The game had astounding graphics, characters with personality, venues worthy of any rock fest and more replay value than a Halle Berry sex scene.

But what separates “Guitar Hero” from the rest is its attitude. When my brother and I played on that fateful night last year, we cranked the sound system to its max, completely disregarding neighboring apartments and their expectations of peace and quiet. During “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult, we literally heard the old woman downstairs banging on her ceiling with a broomstick, which is old-lady-speak for “turn that down.”

I knew at that moment this game was special.

When I play “Guitar Hero,” I become the rock star I always wanted to be.

I happen to play guitar in real life as well, and while I might be good enough to carry out a couple of cover songs, I really don’t have the creativity or flair to vault myself into rock stardom. That’s where “Guitar Hero” offers me an escape into a world where I control the audience with my shredding prowess, a world where I care about nothing but rocking the f– out.

If you have ever felt like me, like you needed a superstar fantasy fulfilled, or if you just need an excuse to go nuts and rock out, I would strongly encourage you to check this game out. Even if rock isn’t your thing the game still attracts all different types of musical tastes because of its spirit and energy. Oh and by the way, “Guitar Hero 2,” a bigger, badder, better version of the original, will be released Nov. 7. I suggest you pick that one up, too.

Tim is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at tmrogers@artsci.wustl.edu.

I have never golfed, but I know of people who have. And the remarkable thing is that they continue to golf, in spite of knowing what they’re in for. As the esteemed Samuel Clemens said, “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” Doubly so when using a golf cart. Now, I’ve spoken with several of my golfing friends, and they seem to have come to a consensus about the allure of golf. Apparently the appeal has a lot to do with sticking it to the laws of probability – with overcoming the sheer implausibility of putting this tiny ball in that distant and tiny hole, and doing so with maximum efficiency. I can appreciate that. Hell, my mind short-circuits every time I think about the things golfers are capable of. Still, I would propose an alternative to golf that is equally improbable, probably far more pleasurable, and, best of all, far more dangerous. (I’m sure golf can be dangerous; people being brained by balls, clobbered by clubs, struck by lightning, that sort of thing. These occurrences, though, are pretty rare. And I would wager that if things operate smoothly, the risk of accidents occurring is slim to none. Almost as improbable, you might say, as that elusive hole in one. My substitute is inherently more likely to cause cuts, bruises, abrasions, fractures, breaks, injury to one’s pride, to one’s manhood, etc.) What is said pastime, you clamor? Why, it’s slacklining!

One advantage of slacklining is its simplicity: all it requires is a piece of nylon webbing, and two trees to tie it between. The webbing used for slacklines is similar to the material seat belts are made of, only a little thicker, far longer, and one inch wide. Slacklines can be short or long, they can be strung low or high, over water, over land, over an endless abyss, they can involve hundreds of dollars worth of gear or be made of left over ends, knotted together. Too often we depend on electronics and fancy gadgets to keep us entertained. It is an unparalleled pleasure to step back from technology and spend an afternoon outside falling off some nylon.

Slacklining is sort of like tightrope walking, but on a broader and looser line. To slackline, then, you just step onto the line and walk back and forth between the anchors. At least that’s the idea. In reality, balancing on a taut piece of nylon that oscillates wildly, magnifying both your own tremors and those caused by malevolent gusts of wind, proves pretty challenging. Once you’ve got balancing down, there is an endless world of tricks to try: turning, jumping, sitting, kneeling, assuming yoga positions, stripping, walking backwards, walking while blindfolded, while playing Frisbee, while on the phone.

The concentration, the focus required to flaunt gravity, is immensely satisfying. And when you manage to stay on the line, through something you thought would surely send you hurtling to the ground, it is akin, I’m sure, to pleasure of a nice golf shot. If golf is a good walk spoiled, slacklining is a good walk distilled and elevated.

(If anyone is interested in trying slacklining, the outing club puts up a slackline before and after its meeting every Tuesday.)

Caleb is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at ctobrien@wustl.edu.

Matt Rubin

The saddest part of growing up is that somewhere along the line, you stop being terrified that Johnny Depp lives under your bed, and start being sad that he doesn’t.

Remember the good old days? Tiptoeing into the living room and peering out from behind the chair in the corner, glass of chocolate milk firmly in hand with one of those crazy curly straws that you just know will be ruined by its first encounter with the dishwasher. Your parents are watching “Edward Scissorhands,” but Mom put you to bed already knowing the movie will give you nightmares. You watch anyway.

Three hours later, Daddy walks into your room to make sure his little princess has gone to sleep. He finds you huddled in the corner of your bed, shaking and clutching your not-yet-ratty teddy bear, with the covers pulled up so only your nose is sticking out. He scoops you up and takes you out to the same chair you’d only hours before hidden behind, and holds you on his lap and sings you lullabies until you fall asleep.

I miss those days.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a huge fan of Oedipus or Electra or living with your mother until you’re 50 – no, Mom, NOT the meatloaf. I just wish that growing up didn’t necessitate growing more confused. As life continues to become more and more complicated, and as it becomes increasingly the guys in my bed, rather than under it, who keep me up at night, I find myself longing for a time when a hug and a lullaby were all that were needed to make the monsters go away.

Yes, I’m whining. Life on campus is pretty amazing, I know, and I shouldn’t complain. And I mean, who really could complain about a lifestyle that lets you skip out on work because the weather’s nice? Who could argue with going to parties on school nights, or drinking cheap beer with Chinese takeout because you’re not in the mood to write your paper? Maybe some of the logistics are problematic – a 9 a.m. class with a hangover, for example, is not so much fun – but the freedom we are granted is undeniably incredible.

That being said, it’s also undeniable that when at school, we have to function – or at least, are expected to function – as mature, capable, responsible adults. We are expected to face challenges and handle problems on our own. You can call your mom for advice, but you have to talk to that professor or interview for that job by yourself; hiding under the covers will not save you from the research paper you put off to the last minute, nor will creditors believe you when you say, “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me!” What’s worse, a Band-Aid, however pretty it may be, will do nothing to help the broken hearts and bruised egos that are to the college student what skinned knees are to the clumsy four-year-old – painful and far too frequent. Maybe there are no more monsters under the bed, but there seem to be a whole lot more out in broad daylight, making demands and forcing us to face the realities from which we were previously sheltered.

Which brings me back to my original point: Johnny Depp. I realize that moving him from under my bed to a poster on my wall was probably a healthy move, and that it encompasses the added bonus of getting to wake up to his beautiful face every morning, but still. Looking at him, I see one more example of the fact that in more ways than not, we aren’t little kids anymore.

Does that terrify anyone else?

Sara is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. She can be reached via e-mail at saremdi@artsci.wustl.edu.

All those lofty college guides describe Washington University as a “work hard play hard environment.” They fail to mention there is nothing in between. There is gluttony and then deprivation. Skipped meals and then six-pound quesadillas. A Thursday night cramming for a test, then a Saturday hypnotized by cable re-runs. That guy who said, “all things in moderation,” obviously didn’t go here. The Washington University collegiate porridge is always “too hot” or “too cold.” And not even Goldilocks could tell you what happened to “just right.”

It’s not as if Wash. U. students don’t seek moderation. Hell, it’s my grail quest. Moderation would get me into bed before 3 a.m., stop me from making that daily donut run and let me maintain some healthy sanity in the insanity that is college. But students here are inundated with a monster workload (I’m supposed to read a 200-page book in two days?), so study breaks cry out for a gigantic diversion. Some choose alcohol, some melt their brains watching Aladdin on loop. Everybody realizes you must balance cram sessions with some sort of brain-dead escapism. And moderation only takes you so far.

Wash. U. is not about baby steps. It’s a monument to extra intelligent, excessive striving. But so many things about this school are just too much (and I say this with absolute affection). First of all: the squirrels. My God, the squirrels. Wash U must be offering them scholarships. It’s not the occasional squirrel, it’s hoards! The rodent hoards! And then there’s the construction. When Wash. U. commits itself to some self-improvement, we don’t get a few manicured hedges and some freshly planted trees. No, we get a gaping abyss and 12 new parking lots and 15 gigantic dorms and a ski lodge. And while I’m dishing it out, let’s talk about our host state Missouri. The weather is schizophrenic. First it’s pouring, then it’s sunny, now there’s a tornado. You’re either freezing your ass off or sweating bullets. And how about the bugs? I like bugs; I like the California bugs back home. But I’ve seen crickets here that could eat me, and that is just not right. How can any of us going to school here be expected to maintain any concept of moderation when we live in such a psychotically radical place?

We work hard, we play hard, and we’re clueless about anything else (because we had to get a little shut-eye and we missed whatever it was.) I’m sure you think I’m just exaggerating and going to extremes to make my point, but that is the point, isn’t it? If I didn’t, none of you here at Wash. U. would get it.

Tess is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences and a Forum Editor. She can be reached via e-mail at forum@studlife.com.

Dear Editor:

In response to Dennis Sweeney’s editorial (Sept. 22, “The Bunny noticed-did you?”) I wanted to point out an error in his argument that the University is looking out for the students by putting in this “new” walkway in front of the Bunny.

The walkway was there before. As a freshman, I can’t expect Dennis to remember this, but this exact same stretch of sidewalk was present during my freshman year. For some inexplicable reason, the University decided to remove it and replace it with grass. But that didn’t change the fact that it was the most direct route from Mallinckrodt to the library, and the grass in that area was repeatedly trampled to death by the day to day flow of students, and subsequently replaced by brand new sod whenever the University saw fit.

The University wasn’t taking notice of the needs of students, but rather the simple economic fact that it is significantly cheaper to install cement once than to replace sod every semester or so. A better example of the University looking out for its students would be the parking garage and student center currently under construction to address limited space for parking and recreation. Although the enormous hole in the middle of campus is, admittedly, an eyesore, the end result will be a large improvement for the Wash. U. students of the future.

-Kevin Mulqueeny
Class of 2007

Time to question ResTech charges

Dear Editor:

As students of Washington University, we have been taught to question the world around us. For the past three weeks, many questions have arisen concerning the Internet, or lack thereof, on campus. While many have accepted the inconvenience of not being able to use AOL Instant Messenger, there is a far larger problem that is being overlooked. Students who use exorbitant amounts of bandwidth are not only keeping us from talking to our friends online, but they are keeping students from being able to download documents from ERes, check their e-mail, and perform other tasks that are necessary for academic reasons. While these students inconvenience all, a far larger issue stands.

Most students realize that we pay a large price to attend Wash. U. On average, tuition for the 2006-2007 school year will cost students approximately $44,240 according to the website http://facts.wustl.edu. Although the Internet fee may seem like a drop in the bucket, each student is paying an additional $270 per year in order to use the Internet, about $33.75 per month. For nearly the past month, however, a great deal of the basic services that should be provided to us through our internet fee have been unavailable. Which leads to a question that every student should pose to ResTech. What are we actually paying for?

University of Chicago and Cornell University students pay $33,336 and $34,761 respectively. These two peer institutions include Internet in their tuition. Rutgers University and University of Maryland, where students pay $27,505 and $25,806 respectively, also include internet in their tuition. Why is it that at Wash. U. our tuition is nearly $9,500 higher than Cornell, the next most expensive university and yet we have to pay an additional fee for Internet that is unreliable at best?

It is time that students begin holding ResTech more responsible. There is no reason for us to be paying an extra fee for internet that does not work. ResTech should tell us why despite their systems of prioritizing, students cannot access ERes or ArtSci e-mail because their browsers are timing out. We should all demand answers from ResTech as to why three weeks into this problem, there is not a solution and why we continue paying for Internet. We have come to expect the best for our money from our school; we should expect the same from ResTech.

-Adam R. Cohen
Class of 2009

What do we want? Instant messenger!

Dear Editor:

A year and a half ago, a group of very passionate students got together to support something very important to them. They sacrificed their academics, their social life and their overall well-being to let the administration know how important this issue was to them. They locked themselves in the quad for days and refused to eat, all over one simple issue: Living Wage.

While the Living Wage issue was important to some in the University community, there is a much greater issue that is plaguing the University. This issue is affecting the majority of students that live on campus, and it needs to end, now. Brookings officials continue to maintain that they are working on fixing the problem, but nothing has been done. I think it is time for the University to take a stand and follow the footsteps of the Student Worker Alliance. Until the University regains access to AOL Instant Messenger between the hours of 4 p.m.-1 a.m., I believe the entire campus should partake in a sit-in/hunger strike.

Just think, if the SWA was able to conjure so much support for an issue that was only important to a few, how much support could this cause gain? This could become a campus-wide movement, with thousands of students lined up in Brookings Quad, chanting, “What do we want? A-I-M. When do we want it? NOW!”

ResTech needs to take accountability for their actions, and simply saying “we’re working on it” is not enough. Someone needs to let them know how we feel, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

And if this sit-in/hunger strike doesn’t work? We can always call up the Hatch and ask them to play a benefit show outside ResTech.

-Jake Greenblatt

Class of 2008

When students make the decision to attend a research university like Washington University, they do so knowing that to gain the benefits of having professors actively engaged in their fields, they must make some sacrifices in the standards to which they can expect their professors to teach. While Wash. U. clearly ought to maintain its focus on promoting research, not re-hiring lecturers place too much emphasis on research, at the expense of students.

The discussion of how Wash. U. hires professors has been brought to the attention of the campus, specifically by the situation involving lecturer Jerome Bauer, whose position as lecturer will be eliminated in favor of a tenure track assistant professorship that involves researching responsibilities. Student Life does not intend to comment on this case specifically, because it involves expanding a department, which could ultimately be beneficial to students and the University as a whole. However, the elimination of lecturing positions in favor of research positions is troubling to us.

The University’s obligation is to benefit its students. Wash. U. obviously benefits students through its excellence in research. The contributions professors make to their fields help Wash. U. build a reputation that will foster respect for the degrees it gives to its students. A research climate also provides students a unique opportunity become involved and work with leaders in the different fields of their interests. Finally, making sure that professors research ensures that students are taught by those who are up-to-date with the changes and latest developments within their fields. For this reason, Wash. U. must give professors some incentive to research and requiring tenure track professors to perform research is not objectionable.

It is well known that the best teachers are not always the best researchers, and vice versa. While many lecturers do not research and cannot offer the school the same reputation-building resume or opportunities for students, the fact that their sole focus is on education means they often teach some of the best classes. Many research professors are so focused on the pressure to publish that their concern for the students in their classes is only secondary, and the classes they teach are not as good. For this reason, when deciding whether or not to retain or fire faculty, the University ought to make sure one of its foremost considerations is how that faculty member interacts with students.

Essentially, it is most likely that the best environment for students is one with a combination of professors who both teach and do research and lecturers whose primary focus is teaching. Wash. U. already requires tenure track professors to do research, so it should not consider research when determining whether or not to retain lecturers. Instead, the University’s foremost concern should be how well the lecturer conveys information and helps students relate to the material.

Wash. U.’s letting go of lecturers marks one more disappointing decision within an overall trend of decision-making that focuses on building the reputation of the University without much consideration for the well-being of the students currently enrolled. Though improving the school’s reputation is imperative to its future success, making choices while heeding greater consideration to the school’s standing and reputation than on the effect on current students runs contrary to the school’s most basic educational mission.

Wash. U. should not be firing popular lecturers who do a good job teaching simply because they believe another individual might contribute more to the school’s prestige. Such a mindset neglects the needs of present students in exchange for increased appeal to future students and breaks the trust between current students and the administration by not providing students the best education it can offer. The most important function of a university is to provide education, and this should be foremost factor in making decisions about who will be educating.