Columns, Opinion

FORSTER, GLANDER AND SAUER: Schlepping your qualms

Dear Nancies,

My parents came up this weekend and did nothing but remind me how much I don’t miss them. They are so restrictive! How can I be a rebel all the way out here in Boston and make sure they feel it all the way from San Diego?


Rebel With A Cause

Dear Sir Rebel,

Ah, we’ve finally reached that era in which the defiant septum piercing goes unnoticed and underappreciated. The family crest shoulder tattoo is scoffed at because it is pass’eacute;, not because it suggests membership to a biker gang, and the self-dyed neon hairdo is now expected of wholesome American pre-teen role models (‘agrave; la Baby Spice). Even if your parents expect you to continue with your traditional Puritan ways, the only way to show them any exterior insurgence would be through some sort of Kodak-sponsored postcard service. Then again, who wants to pay postage?

We live in a society where less is more, more is extravagant, bite-size is unsatisfying, medium is sufficient and the middle is a feel-good pop-rock hit, more or less. Yet living vicariously through James Dean on Hulu will only leave you swooning in your dorm room. The approach to your rebellion must be subdued if you want to hit all those miles home. Try enrolling in a socially frowned-upon course to really tattoo your transcript, like MU456: Beethoven’s Sex Life, or PH323: Philosophy of Gastrointestinal Humor. Or, take the epicurean route by wasting your parent’s hard-earned meal points on feasts of George Sherman Union sushi and Campus Convenience chardonnay. If neither of these suggestions stirs up a rise from your parents, start your own band. That’s the historically successful incarnation of rebellion-just ask the Jonas Brothers.


The Nancies

Dear Nancies,

I live in Warren Towers, and everyone on my floor is getting sick. Any tips on staying healthy while I have to share a living space with two-dozen people?

Sincerely,’ ‘ ‘

Germ Class Hero

Dear Germ Class Hero,

With the outbreaks of swine flu and hockey fever, Boston University is finally starting to gain a deserved reputation as an institution worthy of America’s finest and most tweetable diseases. Germs are everywhere, that’s certain, but what they are and how they spread remains a mystery to BU’s crack team of scientists ‘- if you visit Student Health Services, you’ll get nothing more than a prescription for Vicodin and a shameful handful of condoms (you thought no one was looking? Of course people were looking).

Sure, you could protect yourself from disease by donning a surgical mask and gloves (they come in leopard and zebra prints now), but be careful what you wish for. Do you really want to be the only healthy one on your floor, going on constant chicken noodle soup runs for your floor mates and making everyone jealous of your fully functional respiratory system? Germ Class Hero, share a water bottle with an infected floor mate and let your puny young immune system take care of this one.


The Nancies

Dear Nancies,

My academic advisor has blown me off thrice already and I’m losing my patience. Should I just take it upon myself to make life-changing decisions or continue to seek out official aid?


Guiding Lite

Dear Lite,

We commend you for schlepping your qualms Nancyward rather than toward an intellectually and morally-developed BU staff member, but allow us to play devil’s advocate; Advising is a bit more lax than your average nine-to-five. As a startling example, Panda Express brings out countless fortune cookies that are sometimes followed, and sometimes not. There is a chance your advisor, like us, is crushed by the futility of providing oft-not applicable advice that people just don’t take.

Now, you’re young, virile and robust and you’ve got plans that, if shaped, could launch you into NASA’s cubicles. Your future is no variable and success by preparation is your mantra; you’re the passionate rosy-cheeked lovechild of a kindergarten teacher and Captain Planet, and such a pedigree deserves counsel. Yet we’re confident you’ve been preparing yourself for this your entire life: paper or plastic, red or blue, take a chance or play it safe, tell the owner or dump the poor thing in the river. Suddenly Greek History or Marine Archaeology just became a lot simpler, didn’t it? In the meantime, we’ll give the poor advisor a break; in the sense that people ask things of him and expect results, things are hard and this is probably not what he signed on for.


The Nancies

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