Keep on breathing
as year keeps turning
Sept
UCI
n Unforgetable
Intn. Fil
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Bra
iams (a.k.a Greg
om the Brady Bunch
rake - history of 70s^
& Roil (multimedia
—-ure) / i
Intn. Film^eforethe Rain
(Macedonia) f
Steven Petronio Dance
Company (exhibition)
AND...Wacky
Wednesdays are
BACK!
October
The Spencers Magic (One
” - /.of the bjest acts touring
the cpffege curcuit)
^ M
Germinal
w
14-15
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Fli Flicks!- Make
oili music video!
lan...
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_bp Music is a.
Menace to Society
Curtis Sliwa, founder of
Guadian Angels-Pro
Prof. Gift, founder of Public
Enemy-Con.
3
December
inti. Film To Live (China)
Looking back at the school year — as it
through a dense low lying fog — there are
very few things that stand out in my mind.
What classes Dlt) I take last semester?
What classes am I taking now? Where did I
park my car today? Did I remember to brush
my teeth this morning?
At least I have my old columns to freshen
my tired intellect, to remind myself that I
have weekly performed a task of great, ahem,
social value.
So I’d like, at this time — what time is it
anyway? — to bring you up to snuff on the
important issues I pondered as a pundit this
last year.
My teeth. Remember that root canal I had
in September? Things'are fine now, dentally
speaking, thank you. Although I am consider
ing changing my major to dentistry with a
minor in endontistry (those are the people
who actually DO the root canals, poking little
toothpicks up in your hollowed out tooth for
an hour while listening to classical music in
order to drown out your groans, and then
charging you $415 for the favor.)
It never worked out between Billy Joel and
I despite the dream I had — or was it a
dream? — in which he was crooming sweet
nothings in my ear.
My youngest son, who will remain
nameless, is still potty impaired. There is yet
frequent evidence of racing stripe syndrome
in his underwear, but I’m giving him until
third grade to get it figured out after which
I’m no longer buying him new skivvies.
I’m still working on reading “Women Who
Run With The Wolves,” although it makes a
better doorstop than a bedtime story. (As soon
as they come out with a Cliffs Notes version
give me a call.)
My inner self is fighting lethargy, my
higher self is on an ego-trip and my inner
child wants an entire pan of Rice Krispie bars
all to herself, (getting off the self-help book
bandwagon is an arduous process, so cut me
some slack.)
I’m proud to say that I have not spent a
single minute of this splendid spring inside
the weight room at Cook Pavilion. Therefore
all my flab and cellulite remain tenuously in
place, prompting my daughter, thoughtful
child that she is, to tell me that fee fat on my
legs moves when I walk. Thank you Anna.
And yes, I did enter fee realm of razors.
r
Cindy Lange-Kubick
My legs are now as hairless, and might I say
as attractive, as those of a newborn baby field
mouse.
The tub has been scrubbed, Higgins is still
my baby and my prolonged case of inertia yet
lingers.
I occasionally have lust in my heart, my
husband and I remain heavily into masochism
— now we have TWO son’s taking piano
lessons — and my eldest, Justing has yet to
develop a single environmental bone in his
body.
Anna well on her way to becoming Real,
has gotten over the death of Peaches and
donated his cage to her brother. (To put HIS
guinea pig in.)
Actually looking back on the year I have a
lot of gratitude. My prolonged college career
is soon to end. (The highlight coming a few
years back when a classmate in Spanish lOl
asked me which sorority I belonged to.)
I’ve come to accept die tact that as I age
the wrinkles multiple exponentially while the
zits I had in high school re-occur with
regularity.
Life is not about pithy slogans. There is no
soundtrack, no evenhandedness, and as my
children so frequendy and annoyingly remind
me in life: “Nothing is fair.”
This past year, on my 34th birthday,
Harold Lamont Otey was electrocuted by the
state of Nebraska.
Twelve-year-old Skye Spence, a young
man my oldest son’s age, was killed by a
train.
And last week, far too many babies in
Oklahoma have gone to heaven.
And we can’t turn back the clock. We
can’t re-wind the last 12 months, re-play the
good parts and edit out the rest.
So. We go on.
We just keep breathing.
Lange-Kubick is a senior news-editorial and
sociology major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist.
1
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