Fall quarter will be in session in the midst of the college football season. Instead of beating a dead horse and asking why we don’t have a football team, I figured I could show HOW to make one in unrealistic fashion.
If I had a nickel for every time I heard someone complain about UC Irvine Athletics and how it’s difficult to become immersed because the teams here are not that good, then I would be graduating debt-free. But the reality is that UCI teams are good, you just have to invest a little time to see the payoff.
My time at UC Irvine began almost two years ago when I arrived as a slightly disinterested transfer student, and the plan at that point was pretty straightfo rward. I envisioned myself commuting to school every day, heading to class with maybe a quick stop for coffee beforehand, then driving back home to chill out with my cats, just like I did at community college. I had already been informed that everyone at UCI was “anti-social” anyway, so I figured it would be easy enough.
Coming to UC Irvine, I thought I knew exactly what I did and did not want. I wanted to be at UCLA. I didn’t want to be in Irvine. I wanted to have fun and party and, maybe on occasion, study. I wanted to be a fiction writer, not a journalist.
I purposely neglected to write this column because I honestly hate goodbyes. I’m not going to lie: I was really awkward during my freshman year and didn’t really enjoy dorm life or the food at Pippin that caused indigestion (I’d often see flies in my soup and birds eating someone’s scrambled eggs — no joke).
Older people around me seem to recall and demark eras of their lives by the presidential administration, and it always seems somehow delightfully old-fashioned and nostalgic to me when my parents refer to “the Carter administration” or “the Nixon years” rather than “the seventies."
Standing on the bridge leading away from the not-yet-opened Student Center, I snapped a picture on my phone of HIB and Humanities Hall. I was an incoming freshman, preparing to leave mini-SPOP, and I remember thinking to myself, “Well, this is my home for the next four years.”
If you were expecting a nice, juicy editorial section per usual, I’m sorry to disappoint you. This is the big boo-hoo section where every departing editor bares his or her soul for all to see. If I were you, I would certainly turn the page. I could not think of one institution that I would care less to read the behind the scenes of than the New University.
