"Farewell, fair cruelty." - William ShakespeareYeah, I'm with Willy on that one. It was only days ago, that I was asked if I had any good-byes that I would wish to make - and I do. There is no better place to do it than here for the rest of the classes below me to read.
This December, I part from the university - please don't cry for me -- I know I'm a tough loss to handle.
That's right, I am a super senior. But you know what they say, "Graduating in four years is like leaving the party at 10 p.m.; sure, it may be responsible, but it's not near as much fun."
Last week, I took a break from writing a column to clear my head and hope for something worthy to write about.I can't think of anything to talk about because I have a million thoughts running through my head. So without further ado, let's get to it.
I just turned 23 years old on Sept. 9. What else do I have left?
I guess all I have left to look forward to is turning 25, having my insurance lower and then awaiting my impending death.
I think I have movies all too figured out. Creativity is lacking, and even if there are awesome special effects, insane gun fights, eye-popping plots and naked mud wrestling, the movies have become incredibly predictable.Think about it. You are in a gunfight and run out of ammo, what do you do? Heck, just throw the gun away; another one that is bigger, better and fully automatic with a full clip is bound to come along. Not only that, but that particular magazine is so full that it doesn't run out of ammo.
If you think about it, being a Horned Frog is like a disease.No one was catching Horned Frog fever until our football team embarrassed Oklahoma this past weekend. The bandwagon is just waiting for thousands to pile on.
I've been on this wagon for so many years now that I no longer see any color but purple. Some may call it cataracts, but to me it's purple- tinted glasses.
Like a cold, it may not catch immediately, but before you know it, everyone has it. I even spread the virus to my cats!
Each day, something happens that reminds me that I suck at life.Along with Friday's Skiff, you were given a glorious 2005 Football Preview that I believe not only looked great, but had amazing content about the TCU football team. None of the content of the articles was under my control, only the appearance.
The problem arises at who received credit.
Now I write to you all to highlight a name that was not credited: our very own Sports Editor Mike Dwyer.
I was not born in Caucasia. I'm not a Caucasian.I am a white American and that is all I am. Political correctness has run amuck.
Granted, to get rid of all PC terms would be absolutely disastrous; we still must get rid of words that are racially offensive and words that are used in a derogatory manner.
There are so many places I could start this, but I think I will start with the recent ordeal with Indian, oops, Native American, mascots in college athletics.
Pet names. I hate them.As the reporters and editors of the Skiff found out this past Friday, I absolutely hate "pet names." Now, I don't expect everyone to call me by my name, and I don't mind much when people do call me by what many would consider a "pet name," but there are a few that just irk me to death.
I want everyone to take what I say here and personalize it to his or her own life. I think, and hope, you may find some truth in it.