#isthisreallife
Apparently the South Bend City Council passed an ordinance that requires residents to clear the sidewalks in front of their homes within 24 hours of a major snowstorm. Being an off-campus resident, this brought a few things to mind:
Apparently the South Bend City Council passed an ordinance that requires residents to clear the sidewalks in front of their homes within 24 hours of a major snowstorm. Being an off-campus resident, this brought a few things to mind:
After living in McCandless Hall for both my first and second years at Saint Mary's, I never thought I would appreciate living in another residence hall as much as I do.
Just as Ben Hansbrough's final layup in the waning seconds of Notre Dame's win over No. 2 Pittsburgh Monday dropped through the net, I felt something I haven't felt in a while. Anybody who's ever played a sport at a competitive level knows the feeling. The feeling of relief coming directly after a big triumph. The feeling of kicking unbelief (as Rocket might call it) out the door and throwing away the key. Heck, it felt as though I had taken the shot myself — which is funny, since if I recall correctly I had accounting homework in front of me and a bag of chips in my lap. Not exactly Big East basketball material.
In the battle to end the horror of abortion, the march of Notre Dame students and faculty this year felt much like the coming of the elves to Helm's Deep in Peter Jackson's rendition of the Two Towers. In a crowd of weary and rugged pro-lifers, many of whom have been showing up for the past 20+ years, it was good for them to see a crop of young, smart and elite students willing to fight on their side of the battle.
Did you know that junk mail eats up 100 million trees a year? That the average North American consumes 35,000 cookies in a lifetime? Some statistics impress us, others make us cringe. The ones we ought to think hardest about challenge us to acknowledge that each one of us makes choices that add up to become quite significant. While what we use, or eat, or buy, or do with our free time may seem like a drop in the bucket — or even the tiniest fraction of a drop in the ocean — we matter. Especially if we join our little drops with others, we can and will have an impact. How about this: This year in Chicago, the local chapter of Catholic Charities will provide 2.2 million free meals to the hungry. That's just over 6,000 meals every day.
Over the past several months, our country has seen a notable deterioration in the level of civility and rationality in public discourse. Reasonable voices advocating practical solutions to our nation's problems have been silenced; drowned out by bitter partisans on both sides of the political spectrum who zealously cling to their own view of the world and reject all others without a second thought. These slaves to ideology would have Americans believe that every single issue is another front in a contentious, ongoing war between good and evil. Nowhere is this divide more evident than in the controversy surrounding this past weekend's 38th anniversary of the U.S. Supreme Court decision in Roe v. Wade that established a woman's constitutional right to have an abortion.
Forget Roger Maris, Mark McGwire or Barry Bonds. I am the true single-season home run king. Maris swatted a paltry 61 long balls in 1961, McGwire hit an insignificant 70 in 1998 and Bonds tallied a lackluster 73 in 2001. In the summer of 1998, at the age of seven years old, I belted an inspiring 140 big flies.
This past weekend I attended the Notre Dame Film Festival. It proceeded pretty much as you'd expect — couple great ones (big ups to the Westboro Baptist Church documentary), lotta decent ones, a clunker or two. There was one movie about garbage in America that followed a group called "Pick Up America," a bunch of people whose idea of a good time is picking up trash by the side of the road and measuring it. They marshaled some impressively apocalyptic statistics about how there are a trillion kabillion pieces of plastic in the ocean that will be around for hundreds of thousands of years and 100 pounds of trash on the side of any ordinary road.
I'm assuming you must know this by now, but South Bend winters are harsh. The chilling winds can bite through any article of clothing and the countless inches of snow slow us down no matter where we are headed. Not only do these low temperatures pose a threat to our immune system, but the idea of ice hidden on any path poses a physical threat — a broken bone or a twisted ankle is on no one's agenda this winter.
I used to have extraordinary concentration. The summer after second grade, I sat on my bed and read an entire set of American Girl books in one go, from "Meet Felicity" all the way to "Changes for Felicity." Then I would carry on the story with my Felicity doll for hours afterwards.
Let me begin by stating clearly, I am a heterosexual male who loves Notre Dame as much as anyone on campus and believes ardently in the purpose of the school to promote Catholic values and educate at the highest level. It is precisely due to my love of this University that I am so disturbed that while we pride ourselves in topping lists across academia and athletics, we continue to be public champions for homophobia. The Princeton Review consistently ranks Notre Dame among the worst in accepting the homosexual community. In 2010 we were fourth on their list of "Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Unfriendly" campuses. Easy and painless reforms can be made this year to move in a more tolerant direction that do not challenge the Catholic DNA of Our Lady's University.
Which race is best at math? Which race would you want on your basketball team? Finish this sentence: _______ men can't jump. If you had to think about these responses you are probably in the minority. The bottom line is we all operate under certain assumptions that often don't reflect the whole story. But a one-sided story is an incomplete story, which leads to false pretenses. On the other hand a one-sided story is safe because there is no opposing side to challenge our perceptions. Even still a complete story remains invaluable simply by presenting the opportunity to understand the differences and similarities between the opposing sides. A wise friend of mine and Notre Dame alumnus told me, "The more we express our misunderstandings of each other, the better we come to understand each other in time."
I found Friday's front page article on the continuing Lizzy Seeberg saga particularly compelling ("Jenkins: Seeberg investigation had ‘integrity,'" Jan. 21) The accused student's attorney Mr. Power suggests the existence of cell phone records which significantly contradict Seeberg's written account of the events. In light of these claims, there is certainly room to view Lizzy Seeberg negatively for the first time. If Mr. Power is correct (and for the sake of fairness this "if" must be stressed) Seeberg's honesty is called into question and our picture of the events changes drastically. It is distasteful and unproductive to attack the character of a young lady so unfortunately deceased, and I hope no one stoops to that. But I do hope we take this opportunity to realize that not too long ago many of us accused a fellow student of committing a crime so horrible it caused Lizzy Seeberg to kill herself out of shame. We accused Notre Dame of protecting its football program at the expense of Lizzy's life. We didn't know a thing about what happened, did we? Really, we still don't, other than that the reported crime was far more minor than we were initially led to believe. Guys, let's learn to be gentlemen. And all of us, let's not be so quick to condemn.
There is a popular saying that goes "Secrets, secrets are no fun if you don't tell everyone." I usually bring this phrase up when my friends are trying to withhold information from me, but I feel it is time that I reveal a secret of my own. No, it isn't that I am a superhero. My secret is I am a kleptomaniac.
By now, it should be clear that I love to complain and make fun of a lot of Notre Dame quirks and student behaviors. Heck, if it were not for these numerous things, I would resort to boring you with political columns. This column, though, is dedicated to something that actually makes me quite upset, angry if you will, about Notre Dame — the process of picking a Commencement speaker.