The semester is coming to a close. Well, at least that’s what almost everyone except me says. Personally, I see five more weeks as being anything but “coming to a close,” but I guess I’m in the minority here, along with the female college students who don’t consider fat-free cottage cheese as an acceptable substitute for an entire dinner. So to convince myself that this semester from Hell is almost over as well as to come to the aid of the fact that I ran out of writing topics somewhere around Wal-Mart bashing, I’d like to make formal shout-outs to everything and everyone that has kept me insane for the entire semester.
To the individual or group of individuals who made it necessary to put signs in some of the public bathrooms on campus, cautioning patrons not to stand on the toilet seat because “the bowl may break and you may hurt yourself,” I thank you. Your Darwin-award-winning actions have reminded me that college admissions workers still have a sense of humor.
To the majority of people who wear T-shirts and shorts when it’s below freezing, I thank you. Your inability to match weather to appropriate clothing choices has given everyone the false impression that homeless people don’t have it so rough.
To the one guy in every quiet situation whose cellphone goes off on a regular basis, I thank you. Your complete disregard for professionalism combined with your late-’90s rap ringtone reminds me that I will never be the worst candidate for a job, ever.
To the other guy who publicly tweets that he is “so shuh-wasted” at the age of 17, you also deserve a pat on the back. Your misconception about the degree of privacy the entire Internet is actually capable of reminds me that I will never be the second-worst candidate for a job, either.
To the half of the student population that responds to the question, “What kind of cheese would you like?” with “Uhhh, I don’t know cheeses. Whatever the regular kind is,” you have brought me back to earth every time I started to think that the American youth was improving in the culture and general knowledge departments.
To the people on the sidewalk who run into me because they’re texting, you’re just great. You’re the reason anger management classes exist.
To the people who drive 20 miles under the speed limit in the left lane when it rains, you keep being you. Combined with the text-walkers, you keep therapists and mental institutions thriving.
To the gobs of people who accuse my profession of being just a bunch of biased, liberal idiots, stick to your guns … literally and figuratively. Your hostility contributes to the timeless suggestion of “let’s see if you can do it better.” Judging by the guess that you’d probably never try our profession at the risk of being poor, you only make me want to do my job even more.
I apologize, but I don’t pretend to love the human race. I mean, we’re responsible for making customized yogurt and Justin Bieber. Someone needed to hold us accountable.
Jackie Runion is a junior studying journalism at Ohio University and a columnist for The Post. Who makes your life difficult? Email Jackie at jr178409@ohiou.edu.
