Letters & Opinion
Your College Survival Guide: The End
With help from: The Afterdark Coffee House.
Back when I was going to college, my roommate Andy got a job at the Pointer. He told me they were looking for content, and I thought that it might be fun to write a satirical horoscope, like the one they had in the Onion.
That was back in 1993. 15 years ago. I’ve been writing for the Pointer off and on ever since.
I called the horoscope “Phor Phun and Prophet.” And it was my first experience writing for an audience. It was my first time working with an editor and the first time I ever got feedback on things that I wrote.
And I did get feedback. Three weeks into writing the horoscope, one of my favorite professors, Arthur Herman, read my column in front of the class because he thought it was funny. That same week Affirmative Action called my house and asked me to come talk to them because of a joke I’d made about Take Back the Night. Numerous letters were written into the Pointer in protest. My first scandal.
I wrote the horoscope for a couple years, and it was my first sweet taste of celebrity. I was known as “The Horoscope Guy” on campus. People actually sent me fan mail. It was fun, writing things and knowing that people would actually read them.
Eventually I had a falling out with the Pointer staff, but three years later new people were working there, so I went back and asked them if they’d like to print a humorous advice column. A college survival guide, if you will. That was back in 1999, and I’ve been writing the guide ever since.
Nine years of the survival guide. It’s strange how things have changed. In 1994 the editor- in-chief told me I couldn’t use the word “dick” in my horoscope, because it was offensive. Nowadays, I can say fuck if I want to. I used to lay out my own column on one of the Pointer’s two computers. Then I would print it out, run it through the waxer, trim the article with an exacto blade, then carefully paste it onto the layout table. These days the layout room is gone, lighted table is gone, the waxer are gone. Everything is done on computer, and it seems like a terrible loss to me.
I used to break into the Pointer office and use their computer for writing papers and working on my book. That was back before the computer labs were open late, and back before I could afford a computer. Once, during trivia, the editor- in-chief caught me sleeping on the couch in the newsroom.
I’ve learned a lot about writing from my work in the Pointer. I learned how to tell a story, and I learned what people find funny, I learned what people find offensive, and how to meet a deadline (mostly). I learned that I’d rather get in trouble for giving my honest opinion than be quiet and safe. I learned that I like to make people laugh.
Over the years, at my best count, I’ve written 175 of these columns. What most people don’t realize is that I spend 4-5 hours on each one. Some simple math reveals to me that I’ve spent about 800 hours writing this column. That’s 20hours of full time work. Half a year.
Now that I have a number attached to it, part of me cringes. I think,“You could have done something productive with all that time!”
But then I remember what I think was probably my funniest column: the one I wrote about the guinea pigs. I remember when someone sent in the letter pretending to be clown-sex advocate, “Binky the Clown.” I remember my favorite question: “Who would you rather have for president: a snake with a stapler, a crow with a spatula, or a dolphin with a crazy straw.”
I remember the column I wrote to the girl who had scars all over her body and was nervous about undressing for her boyfriend. One of the few serious columns that I’ve written. That one took me 10 hours to write, I really sweated over it, but it’s probably the one I’m most proud of.
I thought about using this final column to say something profound. To give some final advice. But the truth is, good advice is boring. Here, watch...
Students: Get some sleep and take your vitamins so you don’t get sick during finals week. Don’t rush through college like it’s a race. If you spend an extra semester or two in school, odds are you’ll emerge from college with an education, not just a degree.
Teachers: Remember that your students have many classes of which yours is only one. Plus jobs. Plus relationships. Plus lives. Plus Xbox. Treat them gently this next week. Some of them are justifiably fragile.
See? Boring.
I thought about using this final column to rant and rail against some of the absurd bullshit happening at the university. I could talk about how this place is going to spiral down the shitter if we don’t start paying competitive wages to our teachers. I thought about writing about how spending money on computers, furniture and remodeling is nexa-level dumb when there are faculty positions vacant and students can’t get the classes they need.
I even thought about turning this final column into a call to action. I thought about bitching out the particularly thick among the administrators, the irritatingly complacent among the faculty, and the disturbingly blank-eyed and apathetic students. I thought about explaining that grumbling and kvetching does nothing to promote change. Sometimes you need to protest, strike, throw a brick. Sometimes you need to light some shit on fire to make a change in the system.
But then my column would be one long, frothy string of cusses. That would be boring too, in a way. And it’s not the note I’d like to go out on.
Instead I will simply say this: I’ve had a lot of fun here. Thank you for reading. I hope I made you laugh. If not, I hope I really, really pissed you off.
Hugs and kisses everyone, Be good to each other.
pat
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