Page 2/The Battalion/Thursday, April 7, 1988
Opinion
Living the confused life of an unbalanced studen
It’s Saturday
night, and I’m at
my usual hangout.
Reclining in my
chair, I have a
drink within reach
and a bowl of'
munchies next to
it. The lights in
the room are dim.
As my eyes scan
the paraphernalia
on the walls, my
Tracy
Staton
mind wanders, delving into the deepest
reaches of a subject I’m trying to put
into words. The means of expression
evades me, so I continue to bask in the
neon glow of... a computer terminal.
My Saturday night rendezvous isn’t
with a date — it’s with a computer file.
I’m attempting to distill the information
I’ve gleaned about a campus event into
an intelligent and coherent analysis of
the situation. I’m a reporter. I work for
the school newspaper. And I once was a
normal college student.
Once upon a time, I had a social life
and a wide circle of friends that ex
tended beyond the newsroom. Having a
party? I’d be there. Going out to eat? I’d
tag along. Road trip? I’d say, “Let’s go!”
Now my sorority sisters are shocked
to see me at a mixer. They’re even sur
prised when I’m in my room at the so
rority house during daylight hours. The
housemother almost faints every time I
appear at dinner. When I see f riends on
campus or (gasp!) at a party, the inevi
table question always surfaces: “Where
have you BEEN?”
Working, studying, whatever — al
though I’m faced with this question
many times, I always stammer when an
swering. My absence from society is le
gitimate and involves no illegal activ
ities, but my replies are apologetic. I feel
guilty, even irresponsible for neglecting
my social life for such a trivial reason.
Inner conflict ensues. A voice in one
ear coos suavely, calling me to deviltry
when I should be studying, but that irk
some voice of responsibility squeaks just
as insistently. Peace of mind is ever-elu-
sive. If temptation prevails, Miss Re
sponsibility throws a tantrum; having a
good time is virtually impossible. But if I
continue to study or work, the next day
I inevitably receive a phone call from
someone who feels duty-bound to de
scribe the enormous amount of fun I
missed.
This may be an extreme case, but
many students experience an inner war
of the worlds. The social world and the
career world do battle for top billing on
the priority list. What should win that
war? Taken logically, the victor should
be career. Most college students aren’t
independently wealthy, and a means of
support is necessary after university life
is exhausted.
No one can say that humans think lo
gically all of the time, and college stu
dents sometimes feel like they’re
exempt from rules that govern the real
world. So a choice between studying for
a statistics test and going out with
friends isn’t clear-cut. Procrastination is
a more enjoyable tactic than keeping up
in class, especially when procrastination
leads to socialization.
Until the night before a test. All the
nights of choosing partying instead of
studying are cursed as students rum
mage through the cupboard for coffee
and No-Doz. In the early hours of the
morning, usually about 3:38 a.m., stress
overwhelms them with a wave of hair
pulling, wall-kicking and paper-shred
ding. And after the test is over and the
caffeine wears off, the standard resolu
tion is made: Keep up in class or suffer
the consequences.
Which lasts for about two hours.
Then Bubba or Buffy calls and forces a
night of merriment on the unsuspecting
student. Once broken, resolutions are
difficult to uphold. The cycle continues.
Procrastination and regret, procrastina
tion and regret.
So a social life is the root of all evil,
right? Nothing good can result from
meeting people and making small talk
and drinking a little. Certainly no career
skills can be learned at parties.
But, as John Donne wrote, no man is
an island, and making good in the “real
world” requires interaction with other
people. To meet career goals, people
need social skills as well as intelligence
and know-how. An “egghead” or “book
worm” who can’t converse with people
who don’t undersand Newton’s Laws of
Motion faces career frustration, too.
Since social skills can only be learned
through socializing, 1 have vowed many
times to make myself go out more. And
once I get started, stopping is a definite
problem. Certain periods of my life
have revolved around date parties and
long lunches and fraternity mixers and
other enjoyable pursuits. The social
whirlwind has sucked me in. Miss Re
sponsibility has deserted me and I’ve
fought for air. Then an interesting pro
ject comes along at work, or a prof rec
ommends more studying for a test than
I had planned. Miss Responsibility reap
pears and nags until I seclude myself
from society once again.
When I reassume the role of hermit,
my job engrosses me completely. Time
goes on, boredom sets in, and I become
dissatisfied with the limited sphere of
work. My heart longs to rejoin the ranks
of the social butterflies, but I resist —for
a while. Then I’ll see a friend with
whom I haven’t talked since my last
foray into the social world. He’ll ask,
“Why haven’t you been around lately?"
and I’ll gulp and stammer and promise
to go out that weekend.
The whole ugly pattern startsa|
Balance is the catch word here.Son
how there is a way to study successful
and have a satisfying social life.Mod
ate studying, moderate sleeping, m
erate eating and moderate
sounds easy, doesn’t it?
Ha! Finding the techniqueforacfe
ing balance in life is a treasurehunui
no map. The prize is somewhere!
there, but reaching it is a realtrid
probably written in hieroglyphicst
cave buried long ago by a sandsto:
Or stashed in a safe on a shipthatsu
off t he coast of Africa.
I certainly haven’t found thesoluii
and I staunchly admire anyone who
achieved that balance. From thedj
icated newspaper reporter to
tered studier to the girl-who-can’l-n
a-party, my life is a study in extree
Moderation is not one of my mottos.
So I continue to stare at the comp®
screen on Saturday nights, absorbd
my latest attempt to write a newsstor
And I’ll wonder what I missed.So®
day my focus will change, and mys
life will become paramount again
maybe next time. I’ll be able top®
moderately and sustain a balanced
life. Maybe.
Tracy Staton is a senior journalism
jor, a staff writer and a columnist
The Battalion.
Mail Call
What’s Aggie Joe up to today?
EDITOR:
I think it would interest many students at TAMU to know what their local
congressman is up to these days.
A senate bill, specifically S.858 — The Abandoned Shipwreck Act, was
voted down in the senate recently but is coming up again next week. This bill
seeks to protect and preserve underwater sites that hold priceless informa
tion about our past. Without this legislation these sites are doomed, and the
past is lost to us forever.
Texas A&M University spends hundreds of thousands of dollars each
year supporting archaeological projects above and below sea level. Your con
gressman (I didn’t vote for him), “Aggie Joe Barton,” cast his “No” along with
the rest of the Republicans, in essence casting a vote against TAMU research.
Somehow, I don’t think Mr. Barton had A&M’s best interests at heart when
he committed this error. His only possible excuse is ignorance — that he
doesn’t know where A&M’s interests lie. Therefore, it is partially our own
fault and we must try to correct the situation.
If Barton votes down A&M research in one particular area, what is to pre
vent him from doing it again when partisan lines decide the matter? This is a
question any “good Ag” should ask her/himself, and while you’re at it, give
Congressman Barton a call at 846-1985 and tell him you’d like to see the
Abandoned Shipwreck Act (or any other legislation that promotes A&M re
search) passed.
Christopher M. Monroe
Graduate Student
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorial staff reserves the right to edit letters
for style a?id length, but will make every effort to maintain the author's intent. Each letter must be signed and
must include the classification, address and telephone number of the writer.
We should treat Swaggart just like we treat everyone els
Jimmy Swag
gart, the TV evan
gelist with a roving
eye for lewd
women, says he’s
going to return to
preaching despite
what his church
elders say.
And I don’t
blame him. Why
should he be sin
gled out for ster-
Mike
Royko
ner punishment than is meted out to
others in his line of work?
We’ve read of dozens of show-busi
ness people — rock stars, actors, ac
tresses, comedians, movie producers
and others — who have been busted for
sniffing and smoking illegal herbs and
spices. As quickly as they make bond,
they are back on stage or screen earning
their big bucks.
We’ve lost count of the number of
star athletes who have done the same.
They snort white powder, miss a game
or two, spend a few weeks in a rehab re
sort, and return to their teams as soon as
their eyes become uncrossed.
The fans aren’t offended. They
sometimes welcome the wayward jocks
with standing ovations.
So why shouldn’t Swaggart be al
lowed to go back to work?
What’s that you say? He’s not a rock
star or an athlete? He is a preacher, a
man of the cloth, so he should be held to
different standards?
Nonsense. Rock stars are in show biz.
Professional athletes are in show biz.
And Jimmy Swaggart, preacher though
he be, is in show biz.
The rock stars are peddling music,
the comedians peddle laughs, the ath
letes peddle violence and vicarious
thrills.
Swaggart is peddling salvation, with a
little bit of religious bigotry and intol
erance thrown in.
Like the others, he’s out there on the
air waves hustling a buck. Millions of
bucks, since he’s been the biggest of the
show-biz preachers.
And he knows that being benched for
a year of two, while some shrink asks
him when he first developed a craving
for dirty pictures, is going to cost him
millions.
Why, even before he made his deci
sion to return in May, he was hustling
his faithful followers.
He sent out a mass niailing that in
cluded these poignant lines:
“For some time Frances and I have
worked until the point of total exhaus
tions, and in the midst of this Satan was
trying to destroy me with a terrible
problem.”
He didn’t elaborate on what Satan
made him do, but I assume it was his
habit of putting on a jogging suit and
taking hookers to a motel. That Satan,
he gets such kinky ideas.
He went on: “Oh, the days and nights
spent in prayer, the tears shed, the days
of fasting.”
Not to mention the dread that the
motel keeper might not be fooled by the
sunglasses and recognize him.
“However, I think most you know
that from the very moment this tragedy
began, even though I had suffered hu
miliation and shame as possibly no hu
man being on the face of the earth has
ever suffered, I have done the right
thing — and that is what I want to em
phasize.”
The right thing? Did he give the
hooker a generous tip?
“When I stood before the whole
world and repented, that was the right
thing to do.”
It was also the smartest thing to do. It
made for great show biz. He blubbered.
His kid blubbered. The audience blub
bered. I haven’t seen that much effec
tive sobbing since actress Jane Wyman
was in her weepy prime.
After blaming the devil for what he
did, rather than his own horny tenden
cies, he said:
“I have sought direction from God as
I have never sought it before and He
has told me in the very depths of my be
ing, ‘Feed My Sheep.’”
Does that mean that Swaggartj
going to do penance by working (
sheep farm?
No, he explains: “Now 1 need)t 1 -
help. I need your hand. I need)*
heart. I need your prayers.”
And besides that, he needs ft
greenbacks. And at the end oftheleiij
is the pitch. It’s the part the faithful
out, stuff in an envelope, and it says:
“Yes, Brother Swaggart, you c
count on my supports. Endosedisf
gift of $ .”
So I say that Swaggart shouldn't?
treated differently than any oft
other show-biz fugu res who have tit'
little flings. Let him make his buck
you Lord didn’t believe in freee
prise, he wouldn’t have given uscoi
terized mailing lists.
And, as Swaggart said, he hasa
gent mission from God. He mustf®
those sheep.
Or did he say fleece?
Copyright 1987, Tribune Media Services^
The Battalion
(USPS 045 360)
Member of
Texas Press Association
Southwest Journalism Conference
The Battalion Editorial Board
Sue Krenek, Editor
Daniel A. LaBry, Managing Editor
Mark Nair, Opinion Page Editor
Amy Couvillon, City Editor
Robbyn L. Lister and
Becky Weisenfels,
News Editors
Loyd Brumfield, Sports Editor
Jay Janner, Photo Editor
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BLOOM COUNTY
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