Staff Editorial

Letters to the Editor

Editorial Cartoon

Amanda Mahmoudi

Finally, finally, finally!

Yelping and dancing around the living room may seem immature at this point in life, yet that is exactly what I do every day when I get home.

Why must one yelp and dance in one's living room, you may ask? (I understand that some of you have been buried in school books and unable to recognize the obvious.)

Well, I am more than happy to tell you: This is the last week of school!

This semester, in particular, seems to have taken approximately 50 eons to finish. I feel as though I have been waiting my whole life for this week.

(I suppose if it has indeed taken 50 eons, I would have waited more than just my whole life ... but let's not get technical.)

It is actually quite strange because I find myself on campus more now than ever, at the very end of the semester -- how embarrassing!

I don't feel too bad about it, though. I know that I am not the only one to do this.

All you other closet slackers may find comfort in the lazy assumption that you are protected with an incognito shield, but let me tell you this now: It takes one to know one.

Not only that, but some of you are really loud about it: "Oh my Gawd! How the hell was I supposed to know there was a test today? I haven't been here all semester!" cried one slacker today. I could be more descriptive, but I don't think it would be right to give away a slacker's identity.

See, Lisa? I told you I wouldn't tell anyone.

All right, I suppose that was an insufficient example of a closet slacker. The thing is, though, that these are the only type of slackers I seem to encounter anymore.

Doesn't anyone feel embarrassed or sheepish in his or her slacker skin?

I remember how it used to be (yes, waaay back in the day). You couldn't let anyone know how you really were -- not even your close friends.

The thought of prancing around and flaunting one's slackerness like a peacock with its wings fanned boggled the mind. It was too much of a risk.

You had to scheme. You had to plan for all possible mishaps such as accidental meetings with authority figures or ready excuses for people who you didn't even know required them.

I know, I know. All the effort put into smarmily covering one's vagaries and mistakes could have been put toward doing actual work.

If only it were that simple. You have to remember that this is a way of life that would be in danger of extinction if people were to lose their resolve.

After all, no one tells the Amish to change their ways.

Lest I forget, I would like to share an ironic little anecdote with you before I must take leave (the Cougar editors are vicious with their cropping scalpels).

On a sunny afternoon last week, I was walking down my street -- just minding my own business, I might add -- when I was suddenly stopped by an Alief Independent School District police officer.

"Hey, you!" he yelled through his window. "Are you a student?"

"I'm a college student," I replied haughtily. It was just too easy.

"Oh," he simpered sheepishly. "I thought you were in high school. I was gonna ask what you were doing skipping. Sorry!"

After he sped off while still in a school zone (typical), I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then I was suddenly haunted by the idea that with all the understanding the UH administration has for its students, it may attempt to implement a similar plan to deter truancy.

The panic attack soon subsided when I reminded myself that the semester was almost over. Then I went home to yelp and dance around my living room.