College = Fake Life

I often say that college is not real life. It’s “fake life.” The reason I say that is because, although college is definitely a whirlwind of life experiences that you may remember the rest of your life, many college students live in a bubble. They see the “real world” outside of their personal lives, but they don’t live in it. For example, I’m friends with students that go out to eat every night (sometimes multiple times a day). They don’t understand the value of (their parents’) money. I’ve also encountered students that get drunk all the time and sometimes even show up to class intoxicated. I’m not saying that there aren’t people in the real world that spend money frivolously and go to work buzzed because I know these people exist. But outside of the protective school environment, there are a lot more real repercussions.

What bothers me even more than the overindulgent lifestyles of college students is their sheer lack of awareness of what is going on in the world. The other day I was talking politics with a friend and mentioned Judge Sonia Sotomayor and my friend had no idea who she was. Okay, so maybe it’s a little soon for everyone to recognize her name. But I’ve also talked to college students who have no idea what countries the United States are at war with! That is unacceptable.

The solution? Colleges should not be keeping their students sealed in a bubble that all they need to do is pass tests for four years (some of which don’t even need to do that!). College should teach more vocational training and less highbrow academia. Students need to be educated about what is happening outside of the four walls of the institution. College graduates should be better equipped to succeed in the marketplace than people who didn’t go to college. Otherwise, what’s the point of higher-level education at all? So many students these days are graduating with a degree in B.S. (And I mean that literally.)



- extraordinarIAN

Mouse Trap

For the past couple of weeks, I have had a furry, little critter living in my apartment. This is problematic for many reasons (the major one being that I live in a small, studio apartment). The first time I saw the rodent in question, I thought it was a hallucination. I was not expecting to see gray blur scuttle across my kitchen floor, so I was able to push the thought out of my head and assume I was seeing things (which has been known to happen on occasion).

Last week, I was doing work on my computer when I heard a rustling sound coming from my kitchen area. I slowly crept around the corner and lo and behold saw a tiny mouse trying to escape from my back door. I tried to just open the door and let it free but, of course, that was too easy. For the next week, it tormented every waking moment I spent in my apartment. I would hear it moving around and see it scurrying out of the corner of my eye.

I tried to take the advice of Adventurous Kate and live in harmony with the mouse, but such liberal friendships have never been my forte. After I discovered it eating my Ramen noodles, I launched full-scale warfare. I set several mouse traps: from cheese traps to glue traps to poison pellets. Nothing seemed to trap this demon of the darkness. Its appetite for my food only fueled my appetite for revenge. I disrupted my entire lifestyle at home by keeping all my food locked in a cabinet, eating off of paper plates so I didn’t leave crumbs behind, and putting plastic bags all over my floor so I could hear any unwanted movement.

Even with all my defenses in place, this mouse would not be caught. I felt like I was had replaced Nathan Lane in Mouse Hunt. Then just last night as I was getting ready for bed, I saw something peculiar in the space between my kitchen and living area: the mouse latched onto one of the glue traps. Only its hind legs were stuck into the glue and it twitched about frantically trying to pry itself free. Upon seeing the sight, I felt a sense of relief in having finally caught it, but also a wave of unexpected sympathy towards the helpless creature.

He was a small mouse, really he was. He hadn’t done anything to harm me physically (although he was a mental disturbance). Once trapped, I even had the notion of trying to cut him free, but the glue was too strong and I would have damaged his legs. As I carefully carried him to his garbage grave, I made a silent prayer that he would somehow die painlessly. Because he continued to struggle even inside the can, I decided to put his head near the pellets that would be his last meal.

I figure that I did what I had to do. Although I certainly do not want another mouse infestation, I wish there was a better way of setting him free. From the beginning I decided not to name the mouse for a couple reasons, one being that I didn’t want to make the arrangement personal; but through my encounters with him, I have come to a greater understanding of the relationship between all God’s creatures. Now that’s quite a tale.



QOD: “Never you mind. A guy got to sometimes.” – John Steinback,
Of Mice and Men