Year in Review: The Meghan Edition

In light of The Daily Tar Heel's last daily issue for this school year, which reviewed the occurrences of fall semester 2007 and spring semester 2008, I've decided to write a review of my own. What makes mine better though is that I won't be focusing on anything boring, like my own medical school expansion article that didn't even make it to print. "Online exclusive" sounds good in theory; it's actually incredibly misleading. "Exclusive" implies that the article must be for VIPs only. But no, it's for anyone. Anyone who has nothing better to do than read about yet another campus construction project.

But I digress. As always.

I'm not even sure what I'm going to do this summer without UNC, to be quite honest. I'll miss everything, excluding several factors that were out of my control. (Oh south campus and no air-conditioning, how you caused me such pain.) Even as I sit here procrastinating on studying for finals, I find myself just radiating happiness. I love this place in a way I'm not sure I can really articulate.

In high school, I considered myself a misanthrope. (That's essentially a people-hater, for those of you less familiar with your Latin and Greek roots.) I wanted my column name to be "Misanthrope Meghan" but the majority of the student body wasn't familiar with the term, according to my teacher. I wouldn't want them to misinterpret the meaning as a positive one, after all. I went with "Cynical at 17" instead. Regardless, I wasn't particularly optimistic about the human race in general. As far as I knew, the entire world was a combination of the poverty-stricken and self-absorbed.

I still know this to be true. But what's changed is my perception of the situation. I am not, in fact, the only person in the world who would like to better these issues. Even more shocking is that my personal contributions absolutely pale in comparison to some people's. I've met more civic-minded people during this year than in all my other years combined. And they're students! Much to my surprise, not all young adults are squandering their lives by drinking excessively and having premature sex. I'm just in awe of the dedication and compassion that exudes from every corner of this campus. And I'm relieved to realize that I don't have to save the world alone.

Being a misanthrope wasn't all it seems cracked up to be anyway. After all, hating your own species can prove exhausting. I mean, people are everywhere! They're practically unavoidable! Plus, having friends was hard. I mean, let's be honest. There was a good chance that I didn't like a person simply because evolution did his or her ancestors a really big favor of which we eventually took advantage. I'm not even sure how I managed to maintain relationships. Much like the south's opinion of blacks during slavery, I liked some individuals but not the whole. Several good personalities weren't going to make up for millions of bad ones.

What I understand now is that humans are born inherently good. Of that I am convinced. As I said in my Eve entry, our environment determines so much of what we are and what we will be. Lucky, that's what I am. I had the opportunity to grow up in a supportive home in a great country (during the Clinton years). Most of those that surround me had similar opportunities. We can do amazing things with the gifts we've been given, and we do. How can I doubt humanity when everyone around me is feeding the hungry and building homes and promoting peace and demanding truth? I can't.

For that I am eternally grateful.

I'd much rather live with hope than with doubt. Life is easier, and lord knows that between finals and deadlines, easy doesn't come... easy. I want to soak up every bit of hope and love that emanates from this school. It manifests itself in the smiles I can't hide as I walk through the quad, in the laughter I can't repress as I recall a particular moment. And why should I? Maybe Disney is the happiest place on earth for some people, but mine is right here, with Roy Williams as our Mickey Mouse.

And now, a more sarcastic analysis of various aspects of my year. You had to have known that I couldn't be entirely sentimental and sappy. New students, take note:

Hinton James
Hmm, I wonder why they don't advertise this monstrosity on the campus tour? Just a little too reflective of the projects, perhaps? Despite my fabulous roommate and lovely suitemates, I can't wait to say good riddance! Since the school couldn't afford an A/C unit for my room, couldn't they at least invest in some new, intact letters for the entrance sign? That would at least fool future residents momentarily. The two a.m. fire alarm wake-up calls and 20 minute walks to class will suffice in jading them anyway.

Carolina Dining Services
"Dine" rhymes with "fine," which is ironic in this case. The only fine things I found were hairs in my food. Yummy. I admit that I am a highly selective eater, but does anyone think that these meals should be valued at $8 a pop? Just because someone came up with creative, gourmet names for the most questionable food items doesn't mean I would choose them over the always-classy Spanky's guacamole burger.

Advising
I recently filled out a survey for this University service. One question asked me if I had prepared for my appointment. Well gee, if I didn't, who would? Certainly not the advisers that receive a salary! I've gone to three different ones this year. Now, let's remember that I've been here for one year. They've been here for who knows how long. My future is their job and I can't imagine leaving it in less capable hands. Heck, we ought to be advising them.

Being a White Girl
Try to avoid this condition if at all possible. I'm just not diverse enough to be accepted into much of anything, and my life experiences reflect that. My biggest personal tragedy has been attending a school with an unfavorable male-female ratio. My family is intact. My ethnicity is European, specifically Aryan, and I'm pretty sure none of us were ever persecuted. Basically, this majority group's domination of the school causes reverse discrimination until we get into the workplace, where we can once again experience the regular kind of discrimination in the form of inferior salaries and sexual harassment.

Economics 101
Don't do it!

A Lesson from Barbie World

When I was born, my mom vowed to never let me play with Barbie dolls. She didn't want me to grow up with a distorted image of female beauty. Of course, not all girls' moms were ex-Catholics like mine, who felt the need to instill a confidence in me that she and her mother lacked, the latter having given birth to 10 children (contraception=sin) and the former growing up in a household where boys did the "real" work.

And so, these other mothers thwarted my mom's plan. Barbies are hard to avoid at friends' houses, and they're the go-to gift for girls under the age of 10. Fortunately, I never found their orange-tinted skin and unnatural hair color particularly appealing. (Some girls clearly idolize her look though, judging by the large population of fake-baked bottle blondes.) Plus, I cut Barbie's hair instead of my own, which had to be a relief to my mom. (As a side note, she did allow me to get a bowl cut one year, at an actual hair cuttery. The pictures, needless to say, are painful.)

Today when I was babysitting, I watched as these two girls played with their own dolls, one Barbie doll and one Bratz doll, commenting on how pretty they were. And man, I thought Barbie was bad, but Bratz take it a step further. The next generation of girls is going to be demanding eye and head enlargement surgeries in addition to breast enhancement and liposuction. Actually, I'm fairly certain that doll manufacturers and plastic surgeons have made some sort of arrangement.

But as I was sitting there, fearing for the future, the two dolls suddenly became interested in seeking boyfriends. In this case, the prospective boy toys were actually lotion and body wash bottles. (More practical than the real thing.) And surprisingly enough, these dolls were incredibly selective. NONE of the options were decent kissers or proper gentlemen. Thus, they were thrown over my legs and into "the ocean."

Despite my concerns, I think these girls know how to handle a guy. And I thought I had learned the same lesson during my Barbie years and beyond. But I held onto a boy even less tangible than theirs for far longer. I realized that my choice to throw him into the ocean was better late than never. After all, there are plenty of other fish, lotions and body washes in the sea.