Volume CXXXI, Number 24 May 3, 2002 f

You can't escape, so don't even try!
SARAH RAMEY
COLUMNIST

A girl sits in the library, wiping her cold-ridden nose with her last Kleenex, and tosses it in the garbage. Then, with a rising feeling of dread, she senses a huge one coming on…she gauges the distance between her and the bathroom…it's too far, even if she sprints. She eyes the heap of Kleenex in the trash can…no, she can't re-use, that's too disgusting…oh, but here it comes…her eyes start to close, her eyebrows go up-it's going to be a huge one-and…ACHOOOOO!!!!!

A few heads turn in the library and see her cradling her face, presumably still recovering from the impact…but behind her hands the girl sits, stunned, at a complete loss for what to do with the enormous snot bubble that has escaped and is not attached to the outside of her nose. Oh, the shame.

In the weight room, a man kneels next to the mirror, intent on his rippling biceps, exhaling dramatically through pursed lips, instructing himself intermittently to "Do it, Chad…do it."

Somewhere on campus, one girl bites it big time, tripping over her own feet, letting out an inhuman howl, hitting the ground so hard that she actually rips her jeans, drawing blood from her own knee. She looks quickly around to see if anyone has seen.

Emerging from the game room, a student checks to make sure no one has seen him play pinball for two straight hours. However, despite his guilt, he is the new high scorer for Mars Attacks, and in his step is new found bounce.
Early in the morning, a girl is motivated to get out of bed solely to check her email, only to find a lonely Student Digest staring her in the face.

A boy is cruising down College Street in his Jeep when a familiar pop song comes on. He starts to sing along, when suddenly he realizes that it is no Britney Spears, or even N'Sync…rather…Ace of Base. He looks left, looks right, reaches for the dial…and cranks it. "All that she wants, is another baby! She's gone tomorrow boy!" he sings with conviction as he takes off down Maine Street.

A boy stands in front of his mirror retracting his chin to see just how many chins he can create. Too many, he concludes, and turns sadly away.

"Here he comes," she thinks nervously as the The Boy walks towards her. She racks her brain for something, anything, to say, distracted by her fluttering heart and clammy hands. Finally they meet, and thankfully He initiates the hello with "Hey, how are you?" to which she replies immediately "Oh, nothing." Pause. Blink. Appalled with herself, she looks down and walks away.

/ | \

Lameness. It's everywhere, it's in everyone, and you can't escape. Try…oh, you can try, but I'm sorry, I'm sticking to my guns on this one…no one can outrun the embarrassing clutches of Uncoolness.

The problem is that this deceptive concept of Being Cool has created deep divides within the student body. The Too Cool kids strut unwarranted around the dining hall. The Not Cool kids in response develop an equally repulsive complex, acting aloof and drawing attention to their intellect at every given chance. Then there are the In Betweeners, who are not cool, but seem to know and even embrace it.

In my room, we know we're not cool. Sometimes we IM each other despite being four feet away, and basically we sit around and quote Zoolander whenever appropriate (nay…whenever). The number of people I have informed quite earnestly that "I can Derelick my own balls, thank you," is frankly embarrassing.

Also, to use myself as another example (as if all of the above examples were not taken directly from my own life)…I have sat, quite seriously in front of my television, reach-reach-reaching to the sky, nodding reverently as my Pilates instructor informs me that my spine is my center, and that I should "keep it supple, keep it safe, keep it strong." Cool? No, I don't think so.
But here is my point…am I the only dork on campus? (To those who find themselves to be oh so witty and reply 'yes' here…that's very very hilariously side-splittingly funny.)

Anyways, the answer is no. For example: the captain of the women's lacrosse team wears a mouthguard. And when she takes it out, thick, slimy ropes of drool stretch from her mouth and fall with a sticky slap against her chin. Cool? No.

Take any social house event…haggard girls stumbling, husky voiced, mascara streaked…percent coolness? No percent.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum, there are a few music nerds who I am certain have never, ever left the music library. Day in, day out, they peer skeptically at me from in between enormous headphones, perceiving correctly with their hyperintelligent brains that I can't read music, implying always through narrowed eyes that I am and will always be inferior. I won't even pose the coolness question here.

So, the point is, everyone is more or less lamer than you think, and perhaps a little more honesty about this subject could mend the gaps that have gone unbridged thus far.

And what I really want to say is…unite, Bowdoin! I urge you, comrades…Let us pick our wedgies, wear our headgear, and let out the occasional snort together, not in the lonely confines of our dorm rooms! Do not succumb to the illusion of false boundaries when the truth is we have all seen more episodes of Full House than we would care to admit. And don't tell me you didn't look forward to Steve Urkel's sexy transformation into…Stefan.

And now I've said too much.