| Under Siege
Police in riot gear fired red pepper spray in plastic pellets Tuesday at demonstrators who blocked streets and forced the delay of the opening ceremonies of the largest trade event ever staged in the United States. Parts of normally laid-back Seattle were transformed into scenes of chaos as police confronted protesters who formed a human chain so officials' motorcades couldn't get through. In the view of protesters, the World Trade Organization puts profits for multi-national corporations over other concerns, forcing nations to engage in a "race to the bottom" to compete in the global economy with low wages and lax environmental standards. Supporters also gathered at the capitol in Austin to call for the abolition of the WTO, saying that the organization forces nations to accept genetically-altered food, products made with slaves or low-wage labor and low environmental standards, all in the name of free trade. Although we do not agree with the violent actions and vandalism of some demonstrators, the activism sets an important example. Political activism promotes social change and raises global awareness. The right to assemble stands as a trademark for American democracy. It allows a voice for opposition, diversity and change. As members of a society dependent on science and technology, globalization and environmental issues stand at the forefront of the political climate. We must be constantly weary of the power of our economic interests and the exploitation of basic human rights in developing countries. Concerns for natural resources and environmental issues must take precedence over pure corporate interest. Our country stands to benefit greatly from free global trade. However, our actions and commercial interests often causes 10-year-old children to work 10-hour days in unhealthy conditions. Which is more important to you - a smiling child's face or your new tennis shoes?
A grown-up Christmas list - sort of Last night, my mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas. When I told her, she made some comment about her inability to work miracles. I guess I'll settle for some sweaters. In spite of what I might get for Christmas, here are a few things that will not be under the tree with my name on the tag. I've always hated the circus. Not so much because of the hucksterism or the clowns, but because I am certain the clowns pick on the elephants. Impossible yet beneficial Christmas wish No. 1 is for Santa to grant all circus elephants the ability to shoot peanuts out of their trunks. Now I know that ordinary elephants already have the ability to blow water out their noses, but a peanut-shooting elephant might be better suited to protect itself from clown harassment. Another Christmas wish of mine that no one has been able to grant is a corroboratory time machine. I'm not sure if corroboratory is a word or not, but it is derived from the word corroborate, which is exactly what a corroboratory time machine would do. There would be a sign inside the time machine that would say, "WARNING: For corroboratory purposes only." This would keep people from using the time machine for less noble purposes such as halting presidential assassinations or betting on sporting events, a la Grandpa Biff in "Back to the Future II." Instead, it would settle historical questions such as the color of Jesus' skin and the homeothermic/poiklothermic dinosaur debate. Since I'm not getting either of those gifts, I might as well ask for this next one. As cheesy as it is, I wish Santa would bring world peace. I know, I know. Our economy is prosperous in part because of our exploitation of Third World countries and an entrenched military-industrial complex, and achieving world peace might require the end of the former and the restructuring of the latter. This in turn might put America on the same level as everyone else, and that smacks of communism. Since we all grew up watching G.I. Joe and know that communism is evil, I guess world peace won't work. Never mind. I don't want world peace. World peace is out of the question, but I don't think it's out of line to ask for world contentment. If Santa really wanted to bring me something useful, he could open the eyes of everyone (including myself) who has lots of things going for himself or herself but is still unhappy. Too often do I see people who are so caught up in their careers that they fail to enjoy life or pay attention to their families. To see someone with lots of expensive crap but is never around to use it really bothers me. What's the point of having money if you can't enjoy it or share it? I'm not saying that I want to be monetarily poor or anything, but if I end up working and working to finance Propecia and a mid-life crisis, I hope I can get my priorities straight. For the record, I know that Santa isn't real, and I should be more concerned about giving rather than getting. In all honesty, if I could bestow contentment or peanut-shooting powers on anyone, I would without hesitation. But in this age of reason, I guess my real wish is for people to think beyond reason. Perhaps if there were more dreamers and fewer accountants, we might have a greater appreciation for the absurd and therefore a greater appreciation for each other's differences. Maybe you like having neatly arranged white Christmas lights on your hedges, but I prefer to strew an assortment of lights about my roof in no discernible pattern. We are different but still absurd in each other's opinion. If we can appreciate our respective foibles, then maybe world peace has a chance.
Steve Steward is a senior political science major from Lodi, Calif., and he won't shoot his eye out. He can be reached at (haoledubstyle@hotmail.com). Confessions are the key to accepting loss of control First things first. I'm graduating in 17 days, so this is my last chance to use the Skiff as a vehicle for my personal agenda. I'm not leaving you with "Everything I ever needed to know I learned at TCU," or "Everything I didn't learn from TCU." And although, historically, many graduating Skiff staffers have used their last column as a way to thank sources for all the unreturned phone calls and one-word answers, I'm not going to do that either. Instead, I have some confessions to make. Confession No. 1: It took me until my sophomore year of college to get over my high school crush. OK, so maybe it took longer. But Abe Hilker, wherever you are, you sure missed out. Confession No. 2: If one of my friends is missing "The John Lennon Collection" compact disc (and I think you know who you are), I've had it for two years now. I'll give it back later this month, and I'll even wrap it up real nice for you. Confession No. 3: It has taken me my entire college career to be thankful for the body God gave me. What began in high school as an attempt to lose a few pounds to feel better in my cheerleading skirt turned into an almost never-ending battle against a body that was never skinny enough. When I came to college, I knew I didn't have my mom monitoring my eating habits. I could get away with skipping meals or hiding in the bathroom after I did eat. It was a strange form of freedom. I learned fast that I wasn't alone here. Eating disorders are almost a secret language easily recognizable by young women fighting the same demons. Tricks for ignoring hunger and tips on what foods to avoid are shared in college as much as class notes and gossip. At least 6 percent of college women suffer from an eating disorder. The number seems so low because it represents only women who have been clinically diagnosed. Some experts estimate that as many as 15 percent of college-aged women have bulimia. Many women are considered to have "subclinical eating disorders," meaning they suffer from the same type of behavior control problems, but it's not serious enough for a formal diagnosis. Thin models that grace the pages of glossy magazines and Hollywood's thin actors and actresses aren't to blame. Eating disorders stem from issues we have with control. Controlling how one looks on the outside makes one feel in control on the inside. There's nothing wrong with admitting a loss of control. The real damage occurs when we try to cover it up with destructive behavior. If college is a time to start figuring out yourself, then look at your entire self. Identify what you are really trying to control. Confession is the key. If you can't share it with someone else, at least acknowledge it for yourself.
Aimée Courtice is a graduating senior news-editorial major from San Diego, Calif. She can be reached at (aecourtice@delta.is.tcu.edu). Graduating doesn't mean forgetting those golden years In just two short weeks, I will no longer be a student. I've been a student for 16 years. That's almost as long as I've been alive. Now suddenly I will be thrown out of the warm embrace of the university and into the cold, hard world. I can't wait! Don't get me wrong - I love TCU as well as the rest of you, and I'll contribute generously to the alumni fund from the $5 an hour I'm going to make flipping fries while correcting customers' grammar. (Thank you, English degree.) I'll miss a lot of things about this university. I'll miss walking back to my dorm at night and seeing Christmas lights twinkling in windows here and there. I'll miss the professors who actually made class fun. Now there's a pleasant change from high school. I'll miss living in the dorms, surrounded by complete strangers who get the dubious pleasure of watching me walk down the hall in my bath towel. I'll miss living in the Tom Brown/Pete Wright Residential Community, where my four roommates and I somehow managed to live together and share a kitchen, living area and two bathrooms for four months without killing each other. We had our moments where we drove each other nuts, but we also had some fun female-bonding moments. You know, the ones where you tell people who are still pretty much strangers your most intimate thoughts and hopes. Good stuff. I'll miss sleeping in until noon or so because I don't have class until 3:30 in the afternoon. I'm proud to say that in my entire college career, I've only taken one 8 a.m. class. And I passed it. I'll miss the Skiff, believe it or not. I complained a lot this semester, but I really do love the newspaper and the other journalists. Thanks for putting up with my numerous I'm-going-to-quit threats. While I do have some sentimental connections to this university, there are definitely some things I will not miss at all and in fact can hardly wait to get away from. I won't miss the dorms that much, no matter what I said earlier. Living in an apartment has got to be better than putting up with curfews and stupid alcohol policies. Even though I'm 21 and my fiancé is 21, if any of my under-aged roommates are locked up in their rooms asleep, we're not allowed to have a wine cooler with our tacos. It doesn't matter if we go in my room and close the door. It's "community property." Last I checked, my roommates weren't helping me pay for my room. I won't miss the irritating knowledge that the football coach makes an obscene amount of money. If his team has a good year, he gets more money. If a professor has a good year, so what? Who has the higher level of worth here, really? The person who shapes the mind of future leaders? Of course not. And it's not even sports in general. You can bet the basketball, tennis and soccer coaches don't get the same amount as the football coach. I won't miss the parking. Or lack thereof. Someone once told me that the reason TCU won't build a parking garage is because the people in the community don't think it would look attractive. I don't know whether this is true or not, but if so, it's nice to know that the TCU community places aesthetics over practicality. If I break my leg, and they think the crutches are ugly, am I going to have to crawl? I can't wait to actually have the time to exercise. Damn, there goes that excuse. Eating dinner before 10:30 p.m. will be a nice change, as will having a schedule that doesn't require me to be up until 3 a.m. on a nightly basis. Probably the weirdest thing will be the lack of homework and papers and projects. My mother tells me that it will take a while to adjust, that I'll keep thinking that I have something to do, that it will be strange not to have assignments to work on. Yeah, right.
Pam Woodhead is a graduating senior English major from Arlington. She can be reached at (pawoodhead@delta.is.tcu.edu). |
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