Shooting for the stars ... or not

Having read the Skiff for the past four years (and by “read” I mean “flipped to the crossword puzzle”), it’s come to my attention that graduating seniors either a.) write fru-fru crap about the wisdom they’ve gained in college, 2.) bitch and rant about everything they hate or d.) confess some dark, hidden secret.

Since no one really gives a damn about what I hate (if they did, a certain cartoon would have been canceled years ago), since I refuse to write fru-fru crap and since my dark, hidden secrets are going to stay that way, there wasn’t much else for me to write about except: (Ta da!) the things I’m glad I never did in college. It’s kind of like that drinking game.

Creative, no?

It goes along with my plot to get a degree by scraping the bottom, by underachieving, by ... doing as little as possible. In a land where Cs get degrees, Ds are for diplomas and Fs are for a word I recently learned can’t go in newspapers, I didn’t exactly shoot for the stars. Unless, of course, they were within my reach and reaching said stars involved neither my standing nor my sweat.

I’ve spent the past four years in the middle of classrooms. That way, you don’t stick out as “that girl in the front” and you don’t have to sit in the back with athletes and frat boys.

(Now before you fraternity “men” jump on your laptops and write letters to the editor that tell us exactly how much you hate stereotypes and how much community service you do and how good your grades are, remember these three facts: I don’t care, I’m leaving and it’s the last issue anyway, so your letters will never run in the paper. Neener, neener.)

Another thing I never did involves something that was insanely popular my freshman year, but has since dwindled to the ranks of the Boot Scootin’ Boogie and the Roger Rabbit: It’s called swing dancing. There were “swing nights” in Downtown Fort Worth and even entire swing clubs in larger cities that rhyme with “Schmorlando, Schmlorida.”

(I promised I wouldn’t mention my post-graduation plans because my friends whose names rhyme with Schmaitlin and Schmamanda don’t have plans and are therefore concerned about paying for important things like rent and bar tabs. Neener, Neener.)

I never had an internship. Well, I did if your definition of an “internship” includes a job that requires dressing up like a giant dog or one that requires pleated polyester shorts that come down to mid-knee. Other than that, I was three days away from an internship with an area newspaper, but that was the closest I got to applying my skills in Grown-Up Land, and that was close enough for me.

The list could go on and on of things I never did, but since the only people who have read this far into my column are probably copy editors, I’ll put an end to their misery and an end to my college newspaper experience. I may not have done much, but I certainly had fun half-assing it.

Now I’m going to Schmisney World. Neener, neener.

Managing Editor Laura Head is a graduating senior news-editorial journalism major from Shreveport, La.
She can be reached at (l.a.head@student.tcu.edu).

Editorial policy: The content of the Opinion page does not necessarily represent the views of Texas Christian University. Unsigned editorials represent the view of the TCU Daily Skiff editorial board. Signed letters, columns and cartoons represent the opinion of the writers and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board.

Letters to the editor: The Skiff welcomes letters to the editor for publication. Letters must be typed, double-spaced, signed and limited to 250 words. To submit a letter, bring it to the Skiff, Moudy 291S; mail it to TCU Box 298050; e-mail it to skiffletters@tcu.edu or fax it to 257-7133. Letters must include the author’s classification, major and phone number. The Skiff reserves the right to edit or reject letters for style, taste and size restrictions.