Rest in peace
Don’t waste your one trip through this world
STEVE CULLEN i* a
junior advertising major
and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist, V
•
Everybody you know will be
dead one day.
There will come a time when you
will sit in a chair, too weak to stand,
mind wandering, as your gaze
stretches out through the window. A
kaleidoscope of images will whirl
through the mind’s eye. Like a skip
ping record, your total sum of life
will be played again.
Voices of days long past will
come echoing through your ears:
You hear the voice of a spouse on the
day you first met him or her. You
hear children cry for the first time
again. The phone will ring, filled
with laughter, telling you of the time
that kid got caught playing hooky.
And you’ll hear that awful day all
over again - that day when the same
kid died in a car accident.
While your aged skin pulls
tighter around your bones, certain
sounds will play again: The school
bell rings for the end of recess: The
ice cream truck, the crowd at a high
school football game, and your name
the first tune your daughter spoke it
The way that woman on TV wailed,
when she learned that the plane car
rying her only son had crashed. :
Though the body will be still, the
mind will be in motion. Your long
dead parents will smile at you again.
Your best friend from high school
will tell that joke you loved. You will
know what your parents felt the day
you went into the hospital and saw
them, knowing it would be the last
time you would speak with them.
And, sitting by your window, you
will realize they are all gone.
Before death, all these things
will be thought, because a body
deprived of action must turn to the
mind for its existence. Thinking will
occur because that’s the only capaci
ty remaining. So, I can’t help but
ask: What will your last thoughts be?
For a moment, look down at your
hands while holding this paper. See
what they say to you. Right now they
are strong, fleshy, filled with blood
and energy. Can you see them in 50,
60 years? What will they look like?
What will they have done? Will they
still be spry, nimble and ready? Are
they now? ;
: Recalling the moments yoi^ make
is inevitable, but crafting them is up
to you. Think of what yopr life feels
like. What should; it feel like? Think
about ft. Put in your memory. There
will be a time when that’s all that is
left. These will be the certain collec
tion of stuff that finish the sentence:
“When I was young I used to ...”
We all know when it’s over, we’re
done. We know we don’t get a sec
ond shot. There’s no next time to try
harder, be nicer, want it more, or
send that thank-you letter we should
have. So, why is it so many act as if
there is?
I had a roommate once who
would watch television four hours a
day, eating Ding Dongs and com
plaining how busy he was with
classes. What will he see out of his
window, the Stay-Puffed
Marshmallow Man?
Sad but true, there are other stu
dents like him here at the university
- people who don’t care. Maybe they
*, \ \m • ■" 11—*—
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don’t think they’ll ever die, or think
tomorrow will magically get better.
Maybe for them the clock doesn’t
tick.
Hey. At least I can look back and
say, “I had a good time.” But can
you? Can you say: that, knowing your
greatest chance at tasting the world
was spent licking the floor after
another wasted night of partying?
Was it really fun shutting your brain
off and drooling on yourself for yet
another bad hour of TV?
The day will come when you will
sit in a chair, too weak to stand.
Everybody you know will be dead,
and die only thing left will be memo
ries of your life. You will sit and
wring your now-withered hands, and
try to put some meaning to it, ask
ing: What does it all mean?
“I should have told her I loved;
her.”
“He could’ve really used my help
then.”
Maybe a few more hours of
study, a few more miles on the road,
a few more phone calls home.
Will your record play the sounds
of adventure, happiness, effort? Will
your window open to ah exotic sun
rise, a family hearth, or someone’Is
bulbous backside? * 0
Freud called it the death instinct
- it’s the fear of running out of time.
Time for what? Well, that’s up to all
of you, I guess. I know I’m afraid to
run out of time, to leave a life half
lived.
So, I figure that’s why I’m writ
ing to all of you today, because I
really hope this stuff scares you, as it
does me. .. { ;
, If I can ge%u^0«e^l|OB^of^a
rot away in front of the Ty I’lt b^,
able to look o<n mj: window ~ suid
smile. . k --
66
The day will come when you will sit in a
chair, too weak to stand. Everybody you
know will be dead.. ’* 5
36-24-36
Society demands too much of female form
ALEXIA SCOTT is a senior
biological sciences major
and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist.
“I must, I must, I must increase
my bust!”
This chant became the slogan for
our mothers’ generation as they blos
somed into womanhood. The story
has not changed much in die past 25
years, as women still face daily com
bat with their physiques.
These confrontations often start
with the purchasing of the first
brassiere.
For most women the first bra, a
pastel cotton number with a petal
pink rosebud in the center, was worn
out of obedience to an order from
Mom. There was little ambition to
suddenly “become women” in late
elementary school. The novelty of
having people notice that you had
straps under your shirt wears off after
the fifth little boy decides to snap one
just to hear the sound.
Young women are oblivious to the
days that lie ahead. Little do they
know that these few moments of tor
ment will, sooner or later (much later
for some of us), escalate into a life
time struggle with straps, hooks,
padding and underwires.
From the initial purchase of that
shapeless training bra, women begin
a journey down the road of figure
control via the tortuous devices of the
fashion gurus. What started out as an
uncomplicated, almost comfortable
piece of cotton inevitably morphs into
a highly technical satin extravaganza
with more available options than
most new cars.
The world of beauty and fashion
has now invaded every possible
space, including the bra cups of most
American women. Recent advertise
ments for products such as Curves,
removable bust pads that claim to
“change your life,” and videos that
promise bountiful breasts with the
power of positive thinking are an eter
nal source of amusement for me.
Being a biologist, I have a hard
time believing in the power of posi
tive thinking over genetics. Besides
that, if thought was all it took, don’t
you think it would have worked
already?
upon two assumptions. The first is
that any woman’s body is not good
enough the way it was created. The
other assumption is that women will
succumb to the unrealistic ideals that
surround us.
Unfortunately, many women do
fall prey to the images they see plas
tered on billboards, magazine covers
and television. Eventually, after
women are told repeatedly that their
bodies are inadequate, the options of
bust pads, Miracle bras, body shapers
or more drastic plastic surgery start to
look appealing and even worthwhile.
The fashion and plastic surgery
industries make billions of dollars a
year off the insecurities of women
and the biases of society against those
who are not runway-ready.
The guidelines are set out for all
women eariy in life: You will do best
if you have long hair, large breasts, a
small waist, firm thighs and like
sports. Having known the rules since
my mom explained that I had to wear
a shirt in the summer even though
Ben didn’t, I have always harbored
distaste for them. It seemed to me
that hair and breasts only got in the
way when playing basketball.
And as for a small waist and firm
thighs, well, my genes were not so
accommodating.
I am frustrated by the images that
are glorified. I am offended by the
popular notion that the bodies of
women are things to be tucked, tight
ened, padded, lifted, augmented and
gashed in order to be made pre
sentable.
Women are constantly reassured
that it is better to face having to
explain the natural-looking and -feel
ing pads in their bras, if discovered,
than to be seen in public without
cleavage. We are trained that it is bet
ter to starve ourselves than to have to
go up a clothing size.
The trends are now touching
younger and younger women. Junior
high girls, barely old enough to be oui
of that cotton inconvenience, now
strive for waifish allure accompanied
by a dramatic bosom. They are both
learning and absorbing the rules
faster than
ever before,
i r This
pattern
means
that
another
gener
ation of
women,
women pro
vided with
more opportu
nities than ever
before, will be
constrained by
the measure
ments of their
bodies, not their
minds and dreams
As you walk
into
your
closet
next,
think
about for
whom
you are
dressing?
do you
select
clothes
that you
are
com
fortable
in, or
are they
donned to
make an
impact on
those who see
you?
When
you flip
through a
magazine
advertising
breast enhancers -
either pads or videos
- laugh, but save your
checkbook for a better
: buy. ;
And if anyone gets
results from die power of
positive thinking, get back
tome.
Matt Haney/DN
