Changing minds
Tolerance, humanity must be found in one s own way
ADAM KLINKER is a
sophomore English, history
and philosophy major
and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist.
It seems that it will be difficult for
me to write columns any longer.
For the most part, my opinion has
disappeared, and I have no idea where
it went.
In truth, it’s always been a struggle
for me to get down on paper some
idea about something of which I can
see both sides. I like to live life in the
gray area between good and bad, right
and wrong, acceptance and indiffer
ence.
Not always did I live my life as
such. Six months ago, I relished living
life to the lees in concrete definitions
of what was perfect and what was ter
rible. ■ •
Needless to say, I was not a very
tolerant person.
But since that time I’ve learned a
little something about life. Not every
thing by any means, but a little thing;
and even with that thing, I have no
idea what it is. But it’s made me bet
ter.
I don’t know what I think, but I
think I know that America is a good
place that is corrupted by people who
could be good, but choose to be bad,
as programmed by man’s innate
wickedness.
I think I further know that this job
has taught me something that is not
I learned in books, or by celebrating
diversity or Martin Luther King Jr.’s
birthday.
I have learned tolerance.
If the University of Nebraska
Lincoln really wants to get people
together and increase the diversity
base and fulfill all of the other buzz
words of the day, then they should
offer a course in solid opinion writing.
The university is obviously not
going to do it with diversity councils
and guest speakers and days off from
classes.
It’s farcical to think that at a uni
versity such as UNL - where the stu
dent body is 89.72 percent white -
that reaching out in the name of racial
and ethnic harmony means a day off
on the third Monday in January.
It is further absurd to think that on
this third Monday in January, students
who do not have to go to class are
going to roll out of bed and go to a
diversity lecture at the Lied Center,
unless they have been assigned to do
so.
In keeping with my new-found
enlightenment, however, I think I
know that there are some students
who will go, will learn and will better
themselves with their choice to
attend.
But what are the other options at
UNL on the third Monday in January?
It is good to pay homage to a man
such as Dr. King. What he did for
America and what his legacy contin
ues to do is worthy of praise and
observance - but perhaps not as a date
on a calendar.
But again, what can you do?
The answer is somewhere between
nothing and everything. Are you
beginning to gather what bliss it is to
live in a world of entirely gray areas?
The issue is not Dr. King. The
issue is not tolerance. The issue is
people and attitudes, and the failure
inherent in the ability to change them.
Only certain things will sway cer
tain people, But to achieve the utmost
in the art of tolerance and diversity, a
person needs to become entirely with
out opinion.
However, as human nature
involves rational and reactionary
thought, there can, never be such a
person in our day. But we can always
try.
And it starts with being able to
learn, which means being able to
think. With that, one can gain a new
lease on the way they view life. Being
able to think about both sides of an
issue will eventually lead to a better
grasp on tolerance and diversity.
This being the case, having many
opinions is the optimum, for in that
way a person can truly gamer a deep
er respect for the other side of the
argument.
It really cleans a person out, writ
ing these pieces. One can argue any
thing and one can accept anything. A
person becomes more human. And
humanity is not something that comes
from a university or a university
sponsored program, or anything of
that sort
It must be lived.
As Dr. King said, “Make a career
of humanity... and you will make a
greater person of yourself, a greater
nation of your country and a finer
world to live in.”
It doesn’t make any difference
which day we single out for celebra
tion of diversity and tolerance. Be it
the third Monday in January or the
second Friday in May, or the fourth
Tuesday in October, people will not
change.
And unless they make a conscious
effort and devote themselves, inde
pendent of the influences of their uni
versity, church or family, people will
not change. But they could at any
given moment.
If a person has enough desire to
change, they can see that anyone can
do anything.
A person can become tolerant.
They can accept things or change
them, but they can remain balanced.
It’s all in that gray area.
And of course, everyone can find
that.
And oh yeah ... I guess I’ll stick
around for a while longer.
All smoked out
Getting past pot clears way for seeking out life s priorities
TODD MUNSON is a
senior broadcasting major
and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist.
Given up on that New Year’s reso
lution yet?
If you have, just strengthen your
resolve for the upcoming Chinese
New Year. If you’re still plugging away,
just keep plugging like the wind.
New Year’s resolutions are always
amusing. By the way, Campus Rec has
been looking extra meaty; 1999 looks
to be the year of washboard abs and
butts as firm as marble cutting boards.
But, is a butt that you could dice
carrots on really going to have life
changing effects?
I hope not, unless of course you
happen to be a Hooters girl.
This year, I didn’t make any reso
lutions, just one requirement. I thought
it’d be amusing to get all A’s just once
in 17 years.
And I know I wouldn’t be in a
position to think of getting a«4.0 if it
weren’t for a resolution I made three
years ago.
Kids, keep your arms and legs
inside the vehicle $ all times. We’re
taking a ride in a souped-up DeLorean
specially modified for time travel.
It was the fall of 1994, a most
interesting period in time. Grunge was
beginning to choke Tin its own
vomit and the Backstreet Boys had
yet to be potty-trained.
Somewhere in toe middle of all
this, I had just started college.
I have nothing but fond
memories of living in Abel |
Hell: chicken nugget night, dodg
ing broken glass in toe communal
bathroom and watching Monte Christo
grind a chick on toe very dryer I hap
pened to be using down in toe laundry
room.
Then, there’s all the new
friends I made.
It’s kinda fuzzy, but I
remember toe time I
met a fella who had
this really cool pen
cil holder. Dave just
laughed and handed me a lighter.
Approximately 2.2 seconds later, I
realized this pencil holder did a bit
more than keep all of Dave’s pencils in
one convenient place. Oh yeah, I also
had this uncontrollable urge to yell
“Ricola” at the top of my lungs.
Pot/weed/dope/grass, meet Todd.
Todd, meet pot/weed/dope/grass.
For the rest of freshman year I and
several others became permanent fix
tures in Dave’s room.
He had the art of smoking dope
without getting caught down to a sci
ence, and that’s what we did and did
and did and did. Every night, rain,
shine or test the next day, it
was a session in Dave’s
room, and we took enough
bong hits to ensure that Jr |
we weren’t just baked, we f \
werefried.
Because of this, my
memories of freshman
year vaguely consist
of single-hand
edly keeping
Q4Kwikin
business
with my
nightly pur
chase of a
microwave
burrito and
box of
Junior
Mints,
thinking
“Tank
Girl”
was
the
best movie ever and sitting in the same
chair for 36 hours without getting up.
(I was really comfortable, OK?) The
only productive thing we did was form
an intramural kickball team.
This trend continued when we
moved off campus as sophomores. By
the end of fust semester, things began
to change dll at once. Half of us real
ized getting loaded every night wasn’t
an activity conducive to scholarly suc
cess. The other half kept on keeping
on.
That was January 1996. Today,
those of us who stepped away from the
pipe could be considered productive
members of society. We’ve either
graduated, or will soon, or have moved
on to something else. I don’t exactly
know where all of the other half is.
They’ve either gotten menial jobs,
moved back home or are still on the
couch pulling tubes.
I didn’t really give much thought
to stopping pot«smoking. I wasn’t
addicted or anything. I just realized
that living with my eyes half open
wasn’t a good way to live my life.
Besides, I’m a naturally unmotivated
person and smoking heaps of dope
really didn’t help things out. I can safe
ly say that if it weren’t for our beloved
land grant university’s easygoing
curriculum, I
wouldn’t have
made it past
my fresh
man
zas for the rest of his life, he signed
up for the Navy. He failed his pee test
with flying colors, but they took him
anyway.
I got an e-mail from him the
other day. The Navy declared him
Sailor of the Quarter, and gave him
his own parking spot. He was even
nominated for Sailor of the Year, but
lost because he wasn’t “Surface
Warfare Qualified:” He’s out in the
Persian Gulf working on that one
right now. He’s calls Japan his home
and has literally been around the
globe - all because he stopped
smoking pot.
Justin is the perfect case to the
point I want to make.
If you want to accomplish your
goals, being perpetually stoned isn’t
going to help, unless of course you
want to sit in a chair for 36 hours.
Don’t worry, I won’t get all preachy on
the supposed dangers of pot. We’re
adults here and as adults, we are
free to choose our own paths.
We’re also free to change
| directions at any time.
* When made the leap back
^ into reality, I was shocked at all
^ the fun things a person could do
B when not baked to the gills. In
W fact, I could proudly say I had a
plethora of free time. Several
months went by before I took anoth
er hit.
Yep, I took another, but I did
it because I knew I had the abili
ty to say no and possessed
something that many of my
departed friends lacked - self
control.
Since that fateful day
back in 1996,1 know that, if
I had just a couple of extra
digits, I could count all the
times on my fingers and toes that
I’ve gotten loaded.
itil my new and eternally
wise roommate moved
in, I’d never been able to
put my finger on my
attitude toward smoking
pot When I told Patrick that for three
years I’d smoked pot on an every
now-and-again basis, he replied, “Oh
yeah, it’s a lot like masturbation. It’s a
lot of fun and feels great, but it’s
something you can’t do every day. I
mean, if you sit around stroking your
junk for eight hours a day, every day,
you’re gonna mess yourself up.”
I should have known something -.«•
was up when the only thing he had to
move in was a 1,000-page tome of his
deep thoughts.