These AreThe Good Old Days

Hermonia LeBlanc, OP Contributor
“Hatred—the anger of the weak.”
— Alphonse Daudet, writer (1840-1897)

“Some days, you just feel so good. It feels like a big ole’ sunflower gonna come
poppin’ straight outcha ass.”
— Thom Jones, Purple Fields Forever

What a glorious day! The first week of the new semester always
reminds me of the possibilities inherent in any given day. I look
and how small I am—and

 

up at the sky, realize how big it is
think about the curious nature of living. Today, I could wrestle a
black bear. I could hog-tie time and make it say, “uncle.” I could
turn on a dime and give ya nine cents change. I just feel that
good.

My student loan just came in. I’m
not behind in any of my classes. I slept
like a log last night, unfettered by the
worries and bad dreams that December
will likely bring. I woke up feeling like a
million, dollars in small, unmarked bills.
Hot damn, that big old glowing orb in
the sky is shining on me today.

I’ve missed you all, each and every
one of you. I miss your internal beauty.
I miss your unique ideas and fascinat-
ing minds. I miss the late night talks we
used to share. I have longed all summer
long for this day. Finally, we can meet
in this most glorious temple of higher
learning, drink strong coffees, and espouse the knowledge we
have been blessed to acquire during the summer. I’ve missed all
the instructors. I’ve missed sweet Kelly, the angel that makes my
Americanos just like I like them. Pve missed the challenge of
bettering myself each and every day. I’ve missed the striving that
college can bring.

Mostly, though, I’ve missed all of you. I’m really looking for-
ward to sharing with you this year. I sincerely hope you just
might want to say something yourself. I’d love it if you did. I just
want to thank you all for being you. You deserve it.

I love you all more than all the waves in all the oceans,
Hermonia LeBlanc

PS—Have a great day!

Bde) nbs Tp (0)

  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
 

Franz Hawkins, OP Contributor
‘T hate you all, you smell like... borrowed ideas. Cheap sanctified stolen ideals...”
— Martin Martin Tielli, “Beauty On”

°
RTL CLL LLL) LL Lg

you all, especially you Kenny. I hate you, Kenny. I hate you so very, very much.”

— Eric Cartman, South Park

So, welcome to your inaugural Other Press for the fall semester of

2004. By the way, in case you haven't figured it out, I hate you. Yes,

you. I hate you all. From the nursing students in their stupid green get-

ups, to the wiry-haired, confused-looking people in lab smocks, I hate

you. From the computer geeks in the first floor bowels to the rent-a-

cop security guards, I hate you. To all the instrucgors, employees, and
students alike: I hate you, I hate you,
[ hate you.

[ hate everything about you. I hate
the way you hold the door open for
each other. I hate your politeness. |
hate the way you go, “After you,”
before replying, “No, after you,”
which precedes, “Oh hoho, I could-
n't.” Would you hurry the hell up and
go already, you’re pissing me off.

| hate how you park too close to
my car in the underground parking
lot. I hate how it takes you 45 sec-
onds to park your freaking car. I hate
the way everybody around here uses
benign “politically correct” language

that lacks any semblance of meaning half the time. I hate how low the
level of debate seems to be on this campus. What? Are you people all
deaf, dumb, and blind, or just stupid?

That only covers the returning students. If you’re new, don’t worry;
I hate you too. If anyone makes mention of the rhyme in that last sen-
tence, I will fucking kill you. New people, with your “I’m so excited
just to be here” looks on your faces, you're already on my nerves.
Don’t ask me where Room 3810 is, or | may just go postal on you.
Nobody helped me, bastards. You’re lucky I’m not allowed to arrange
a “frosh week.” I would make you little bitches cry, because I hate you.
In closing, I’m sure you’re just waiting to read the “Ah ha ha, just kid-
ding. I actually like you” line. Sorry. This is my opinion, and ?’m
sticking to it. You got something to say about that? Say something, I

dare you.

Seething with a pustulous vengeance,

Franz Hawkins

PS—I hate you.

OunePPPess | II