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Tuesday, April 12, 2005

On Stasis 

There was an article in the local paper this weekend. I'm not going to link to them because I'm just plain sick of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. Sick of 'em. It's been enough. I've read enough of their drudge, I've written enough letter to their editors, I've had it. I'm not linking to them.

All right, all right: I know it's a bit rude. This is, of course, the piece giving me my content for today, so I suppose the least I could do is link to it for the readers' benefit. And the writer -- I'm sure he worked hard on it. And at least it doesn't have a political bent like everything else in that rag.

All right, fine, then. I'll link to it. It's just that I feel I have to express my exasperation with the major source of "news" in this city. The Journal Sentinel is like an Alanis Morissette song: sounds OK at first, the words don't make a whole lot of sense, you get the idea the they're trying really hard to make a strong point, and they think very highly of themselves. Oh well.

Ha! In searching for the article, I've found the JS just copped it from the Wisconsin State Journal. I suddenly feel better about things. So in summary: Johnny Lechner (good name for a character, I might add) is 28, still in college in his 11th year of school. He's going for a 12th. Some key quotations:

"'I wanted to go to a school where I knew no one. I wanted to discover who I was.' Turns out he's someone who likes to sleep in, play basketball, write songs and party two or three nights a week."

"'We have no more courses to offer you. You've taken everything you can take.' "

"He's actually taken some classes over again, even though he got a 'B'. Lechner, standing nearby during this interview, smiles and shrugs. 'I didn't realize I'd taken them before.'"

"I've fallen into some sort of a comfort zone here," he said. "I think deep down inside I have a fear of getting into the next phase of my life."

I know how this guy feels. A lot of people do. But when I imagine myself in college, living in a house with posters and shoes nailed to the walls, drinking beer right out of a tap in the dining room, sleeping eight or nine hours a night, playing the drums and running every day, watching a movie every night after homework, spending every weekend plus Tuesday nights in a bar drinking dark beer and complaining about the music . . . . I think I'd throw myself off a dorm. To this day, when I go back to my college town, I prefer drinking in the "townie" bars rather than the college meat markets.

I'm constantly defending my philosophy major to people who don't understand philosophy, or only think of college from a perspective of how much money one will eventually glean from it; I certainly believe in "the learning experience", not only from an educational perspective, but a social one. But I think 12 years is overkill. Obviously.

I'm sure at some point it was really funny. But when the local hate radio station got to discussing him, a lot of people expressed pity for him. Lechner mentions how he started college "before the internet" in 1994. Given all the joyful abandon and excess he's experienced . . . imagine all he's missed out on. If he were to go to his 10-year high school reunion (I guess he actually passed it), what would he have to say for himself? And I hate to use that as an example, because that's really the problem with reunions, that they become this great competition to see who's most important or who's made the most money. And while that's all bollocks . . . I can't believe Mr. Lechner has not missed out on a lot.

The pat reasons people will normally mention will be: getting married, buying a house, starting a career, and growing up. But I can't place unlimited value in marriage or equity. And everyone ought to know that any sap under 30 in the American workplace is "just a kid" to everyone else. I think the real thing Lechner's missed is his opportunity to make his mark on anything. He's just sat back, like a king before his jesters, to be entertained. Makes you wonder if he now mistakes the laughter of his court, thinking they are laughing with him . . . .

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