5th Column: Hello, Kitty… Welcome to College

Thursday night is a sacred night in college.  People go out, people study, people hibernate in preparation for a crazy weekend – Thursday night is unspeakably important.
Last Thursday night, as I snuggled down under my blankets, feeling responsible for getting Friday’s homework done and excited to get a good night sleep, I said to myself, “Wow, how lucky am I to live in America, where my fellow kinsmen appreciate the hallowed events of Thursday night.” My roommate, who has just recently gotten over the fact that I always talk to myself before falling asleep, nodded and went back to cramming for her major history exam.

Just as all the week’s troubles began to disappear with that magic Thursday night slumber, the most horrible noise woke me up.  It was worse than the kids in the room above me when they sing Hannah Montana, it was worse than drunken shrieks, it was even more vile than my alarm clock.  It was the fire alarm, and it was definitely unwelcomed at 2:30 in the morning.

My roommate urged me to get up and get out of the building.  I calmly grabbed a jacket and started sliding on boots, looking around the room, wondering if there was anything else I should take – books? Too heavy.  Jewelry?  Too silly.  Pillows and blanket in case Flather burns down and I have to live on the streets?  Nah, too much trouble.

I realized how dazed I was as I tried to walk out of the room, tripping over my own feet and wondering aloud if my boots matched my sparkly Hello Kitty pajamas.  My roommate and I found a stampede erupting in the stairwell, but made it to the first floor un-trampled.

My fellow Flather residents spilled out into the chilly outdoors wearing robes, pj pants, or like some of the more unlucky ones, just boxers.  Some complained, some huddled together for warmth, some even tried to study.  One of my friends tried to dry his hair, as he had just jumped out of the shower.  Ironically, the group closest to me lit up cigarettes, and through the haze of smoke and naturally bad eyesight sans glasses or contacts, I saw that the magic of Thursday night had been ruined.

There are so many milestones that we were warned about before college: the sleepless nights, the tough professors, living on your own.  It could have been the hour of sleep, it might have been the cold, but, standing outside in my pajamas I wondered if this was a milestone.  Yes, some idiot pulled the fire alarm.

That probably happens all the time.  But people were standing in groups, looking out for friends – just three months ago, I didn’t even know any of these people existed.  Imagine who we will be in three years.  Hopefully we won’t be getting dragged out of our beds in the wee hours of the morning.  Maybe by senior year, none of us will even be in bed by 2:30.

Who will we be?  Do we have to grow up?  As I continue my “journey” at CUA, do I have to give up things like Hello Kitty pajamas?  Do I have to start doing adult things like folding my socks?  I’m BAD at folding clothes! Is there any hope for me? What if I decide to change my major to Political Computer Spanish History? What if I have to graduate late?  What if I don’t graduate at all?!  Then, I will have to roam the streets.  I cursed myself for not grabbing my pillow and blanket.  That would have made the transition to hobo life way easier.

My inner panic attack was cut short by my RA shuffling us back into the building.  I almost forgot my anxieties when one of the boys on the fifth floor laughed at my pj’s.  Back in my warm, cozy room, I realized that this fire alarm had been a sort of awakening, both literally and metaphorically.  Over-thinking the future is lame.  Milestones are for old people.  Just enjoy the moment, even if it means huddling close to your relatively new friends for warmth or laughing at the kid who didn’t get a chance to put clothes on before evacuating his dorm room.

Oh, and P.S. Whoever pulled that fire alarm: Don’t do it again.  Thanks.

Fifth Column: Stupes in the City: The TV Round-up

For some inexplicable reason, my domestic partner and I have been watching a lot of Felicity recently. After borrowing Season One from a friend (who informed us that the show was “about time travel”), we eagerly loaded the first disc, our excitement at seeing the early work of Lost guru J. J. Abrams barely contained.

Well, we’re now on the fourth episode and I feel safe in saying that this show is trippin’! Never before have I seen such a dreamlike, fallacious, and downright misleading portrayal of the college experience. Allow me to assuage any doubts that you may have about my college-experience credentials: I have been an undergraduate for seven (7) years at three different institutions – one large public school, an art school, and now CUA. I have not had all college experience, but I have had my fair share, and I’ve yet to encounter one like Felicity’s.

Let’s pause for a moment: why am I singling out innocent, wide-eyed little Felicity for an offense that is committed so often by television shows as to be the norm? Well – this a college newspaper; Felicity is all about college. For those of you who don’t know what the show is about (blessed are the few): it’s high-school graduation day, and the introspective, overachieving, deer-like Felicity asks the young man she’s been in love with for all of high school to sign her yearbook. After reading the weirdly probing message he writes, she decides to forgo her acceptance to Stanford University and enroll at the “University of New York” so she can be closer to her crush. The show follows Felicity as she makes bonehead move after bonehead move, backlit gently by the sunlight streaming in the bay window of her dorm room.

Wait. I know that sick dorms exist on campus (I just heard about the second-floor quad in Caldwell – whoa!) but in my experience, dorms are cinderblocked boxes with tiny windows that probably don’t even open.

Also crushingly unrealistic is the show’s portrayal of relationships: I have never in my life encountered members of male species so very willing to discuss feelings as the men of Felicity. Need I even bring up the perpetually yellow light that occurs in almost every shot and the romantic play of chiaroscuro shadows that highlight the actors’ faces? It’s always either sunrise or sunset in this New York. Absent is the harsh, industrial fluorescent lighting of almost every building on this campus, the pale, stark sunlight whitewashing the increasingly colder days here in DC.

The other weird show I have been watching is Stylista, which premiered Wednesday night on the CW. I don’t know how I feel about Elle’s integration into the Tyra Banks/Ken Mok paradigm. Fashion magazines and reality TV were different pleasures before – now they’ve merged and suddenly there’s a two-hour black hole in my Wednesday night. (Sometimes its three-hour if I watch Friends and Sex and the City! There’s a really amazing article in the New York Times magazine about how Banks is really sweet, traditional, and earnest, and figured out how to middle-manage modeling and successfully control an industry which is never manned by women, so I can’t help but be deeply curious about the television that she makes.

On Stylista, 11 contestants compete for a position as a junior editor at Elle, a prominent women’s fashion magazine. My favorite (and predicted winner) is Johanna. She’s going to annihilate everyone for a couple of reasons: a.) she has crazy hair; b.) she is 28; c.) prior to the show, she worked as a military analyst in DC, which means that she is a probably a crazed go-getter with balls of steel.

Both Felicity and Stylista depict the lives of young people who have traveled to an American epicenter to “follow their dreams,” whatever that means - and what starkly different depictions of this experience they offer. Where Felicity is forgiving, Stylista puts young women (and men) on the chopping block, and their errors cost them their time in the spotlight. I know – it’s like, how can I even compare these two shows? Well, I just did, so…

5th Column: A Tough Cookie

It happens almost every day.  It creeps up around 11:30, 11:45—a quiet moment between classes when my mind is allowed to wander. I find myself gravitating toward the Pryzblya Center for no apparent legitimate reason: I need to use the ATM or prowl the bookstore for Sharpies. Yeah, right—we all know why I’m there.

Eventually, I find myself on the first-floor dining hall, somewhere between the sushi and the bananas, faced with an inescapable conundrum: will there be a Big Cookie in my future today?

Who invented the Big Cookie? I am mad at this person. Cookies were entirely sufficient until some renegade baker came along and decided they weren’t. Now, every day is a struggle—I have to force myself to reach for a banana, that boring old standby that will not saturate my skin with its evil ingredients, nor cause a debilitating sugar crash in the middle of my senior seminar. Sometimes I hesitate—I could get Big Cookie and a banana, right? No, Emily. You’ll just eat Big Cookie first as the banana quietly cries in your backpack, knowing that its nutritional value will go to waste yet again. (Poor banana. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.) Like Orpheus walking ahead of Eurydice, I can’t help but turn around to take one last look at Big Cookie—but instead of descending back into Hades for all eternity, it sits there and laughs at me. “You’ll be back,” it says to me. It sounds like Oscar the Grouch, only it looks like a cookie! Wouldn’t you begin to doubt your sanity at this point?

Can you let me live, Big Cookie? Is it possible for you to not beckon from within your clear wrapper, your luscious chunks of chocolate? Could you be less pillowy; less perfectly chewy and infused with chocolate-y sweetness?

I do not think I’m alone in my unhealthy obsession with the Big Cookie. The famous 4th Street Cookie Co. in Philadelphia has capitalized on the power of the Big Cookie by selling braised tempeh served with a dollop of wasabi-garlic mayonnaise. (Haha, no. They sell Big Cookies!)  There is the almost unholy Salty Oat cookie, the recipe for which is kept under lock and key by its purveyor, local café Teaism. DoubleTree hotel, in their quest to make me do their evil bidding, provides - are you sitting down - COMPLIMENTARY Big Cookies to their guests at check-in! Why, I ask you, WHY has their marketing coordinator not been awarded a Nobel Prize? Do I even need to reference the episode of “Seinfeld” known colloquially as “the black and white cookie episode?” This particular Big Cookie provided enough for an entire plot arc. I will say no more lest I be accused of “spoiling” (although if you haven’t seen this episode, I confess I’m a little worried about you).

The best thing about the Big Cookie is that it provides an extra-large template for any sort of dessert-mutation that your sick little heart might desire. Oatmeal raisin? Be my guest. Cranberry walnut? Please.

Peanut-butter macadamia? Do it now! The potency of any pre-existing ingredient combination can be amped up ten fold by their inclusion in a Big Cookie. I personally would love to see Every cookie - a big cookie overflowing with every possible cookie fixin’. Even better would be a Big Cookie bar, where you could select your ingredients and have a Big Cookie custom-made for you on the spot. Amsterdam Falafel and Coldstone Creamery have already capitalized on this methodology and are experiencing raging success. Get on that bandwagon, Big Cookie! It’s time to man up.

I want us to reach an accord, Big Cookie. I want to be able to be in the same room with you and not want to cry. My body says yes but my heart says no. Why does what’s wrong feel so right?

5th Column with Emily Ruane

O, October! What a funny little month you are. You lack the frenzied, back-to-work energy of September and the cozy fatitude of November. The quiet middle child of fall, it’s a month where we wear hoodies during the day, and then zip them up and pull the drawstring really tight so that our faces are squished and moan about forgetting our jackets at night. October is a little unpredictable, a little crazy – will it cool down quickly or will summer-like temperatures prevail?

Whatever ends up happening this month, I can’t help but notice the number of ethnicities, associations, and vocations that are taking advantage of this sleepy little month to celebrate their awesomeness. If you spend any significant amount of time on campus (which, if you’re reading this, I assume you must) you’ve probably noticed that we are in the midst of both Filipino American History Month (thanks for the bubble tea, it was delicious!) and National Hispanic Heritage Month (the theme of which is “Honoring the Awesome Way of Life.” And how!) There’s beaucoup Pryzbyla signage instructing us on how to party in the style of either of these months.

However, some other nationalities are trying to get in on the action. New York (”the largest Italian city outside Italy”) celebrates Italian Heritage and Culture Month in October – a month of Italian-themed hang sessions that began as a mere week in 1976. The festivities of this month include the Third Annual “All U Can Eat” Family Spaghetti Fest (that’s their abbreviation, not mine) that is inexplicably taking place in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Does “you forgot Poland” ring any bells? Not this time, my friend! Compensate for John Kerry’s omission by remembering that October is Polish American Heritage Month, headquartered at the Polish American Cultural Center Museum in Philadelphia. One way to show your love for these pierogie-popping party animals is to participate in their annual Coloring Contest. Go to their website and download a PDF of a black-and-white drawing of Polish settlers in Jamestown. (Colonial outfits and Native Americans serve to authenticate this vignette.) Color it in (”using crayon or crayon pencils only”) and send it in to the museum – first prize is $100!

You should also boogie because National Physical Therapy Month is upon us. There does not appear to be stringent protocol for honoring this month. Last year, the Cape May County Health Department (of New Jersey) made a presentation to a local second-grade class, instructing them on stretching, posture, and “proper body mechanics while lifting and bending.” Judging from the thank-you notes that the department received from the second grade class, the presentation was a runaway success. Some excerpts: “Thank you for coming Mrs. Fish and Mrs. Recipi. Happy Halloween Mrs. Fish and Mrs. Recipi. Sean lifted the chair”; “Dear Mr.s Fish and Mrs. Recipi Thank you forcomming I learn abuot pikkinup chars”; “hank you for shoin my haw to do srgaches. I lyrod the srach.” I, for one, would lyrod to get in on whatever party these physical therapists are having. Shine on, you crazy diamonds!

Did you know that it’s National Dental Hygiene Month, too? Each week of this month has a theme – my favorite is week four, the theme of which is “Take a Potential Member to Lunch.” (This instruction is aimed at American Dental Hygienist Association members.) “ADHA is the community for all dental hygienists,” instructs the organization’s website. “Show them the value, but remember, it’s not a sales pitch – just a friendly gesture on behalf of yourself and the profession.” Alert: seriously posi vibes coming your way courtesy of the ADHA. This month gets the Tower seal of approval for supporting one love. Jah provides, you know?

In sum, I would posit that Months rule. While all of these cultural and vocational celebrations honor different, like, modes of self-identification or whatever, they all seem to agree that their Months should involve eating, partying, hanging out, and talking about how awesome their respective modes are.

5th Column with Emily Ruane

Damn, son. The economy is eating it this week. I feel bad! What do you with your friends when they’re having a really bad week? Bring them brownies? Booze? 27 Dresses? (The latter, for the record, will make anyone feel better, be they man, woman or child. I’m serious.) This isn’t exactly a situation that food and hugs will solve.

Unfortunately, since we’re dealing with a fat, faceless behemoth, I’m sort of at a loss for how to deal with this particular situation.

If this were a more typical scenario, I would sit the economy down and ask it if it felt like talking about how it was feeling. I would plan to listen really carefully, with an ever-so-slightly knitted brow to connote seriousness and contemplation. If the economy was like, “Oh, you don’t want to hear about my problems,” I would insist that the economy’s problems are my problems too. I would remind the economy that sometimes just talking about your problems can make them seem a little less scary.

If the economy got kind of quiet at that point, I would say, “Hey. Whatever you’re feeling is ok right now.” When the economy still didn’t say anything, I would say, “You know, this is a lot for one faceless behemoth to handle on its own.” When the economy remained silent, staring blankly into space at a point that only it could discern, I would say, “You did the best you could. Everyone knows that.”

Then the economy would stand up really suddenly, almost upsetting the cookies and milk that I’d laid out when it arrived. “No I didn’t!” it would shout, its voice thickening. “I’ve - ” It would stop for a moment in an effort to collect itself. (The economy doesn’t like to let anyone see it lose its composure.) “I’ve f-f-failed,” it would mumble, its voice beginning to crack. At that point, I would look the economy in the eye. “It’s not your fault, economy,” I would say. “We pushed you to a breaking point.”

Tears would well up in the economy’s eyes. “I’m not s-s-supposed to break,” it would say. “I’m supposed to be s-s-strong!” it would cry, finally letting go. “America needs me to function!” I would run into the kitchen for some tissues. The economy would sit down on the couch with its head in its hands. “All the other economies must think I’m so stupid. I’m the laughingstock of the world!” it would sob. “How can I ever show my face in the global market again?”

I would pat the economy on the back. “Eggs are f-f-four dollars for a dozen. How are we going to live?” I would hand the economy tissue and it would loudly blow its nose. “I don’t understand how this happened,” the economy would say, its voice shaky. “Everything was going so well. People were buying houses. Thanks to me, the American dream was becoming a reality. Now I’m an embarrassment. A has-been!” The economy would start sobbing again, and I would sit next to it, wishing that I could console it and knowing that I never could. The economy is its own harshest critic, and it’s hard to convince a perfectionist that their failures are not the end of the world. In that sense, the economy is a victim of its own hubris – but you can’t tell the economy that, not when it’s so upset.

I would wait for the economy to calm down. “Look at me,” it would say, blowing its nose again. “I’m such a mess. You must think I’m such a drama queen.” I would shake my head. “No! Of course you’re upset. We’re all a little upset.” The economy’s face would start to crumple again. “Don’t cry,” I would plead. “We’re not mad at you. This is just as much our fault as it is yours, economy.” The economy would sniffle a little. “It takes 300 million to tango, right?” I would say. “I guess, the economy would reply. “It’s just so humiliating.”

I would give the economy a hug. “The only thing we can do now is move on. What’s important is that we learn from our mistakes.” The economy would nod. “You’re right.” It would give me a small smile. “Thanks for making me feel better.” “Of course,” I would say. “We’re all in this together.”

But I since this isn’t a typical scenario, I’m not really sure how to approach it. Any idea? Thoughts? Suggestions?

Notes & Asides: September 26th, 2008

This is action packed weekend for Dining Services. Friday is National Pancake Day, Saturday is National Chocolate Milk Day, and Monday, the Student Restaurant hosts a celebration for September birthdays.

 

Is everyone registered to vote? You can do so in the registrar’s office! November will be upon us shortly, folks. As Scar said: “Be prepared.”

 

Father Bob has been a priest for 25 years. That’s longer than some of us have been alive. Other things that have been around for 25 years: Michael Jackson’s Thriller, the New Jersey Transit Police Department, Nintendo (then known at the Family Computer), Microsoft Word, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the Zapatista Army of National Liberation, and DARE (Drug Abuse Resistance Education).

 

Notes and Asides has a few weekend picks for you. Saturday is Bike DC, a noncompetitive bike ride across the city. From the amount of bikes we’ve seen around campus this semester, we’re guessing this is a popular way to travel. Starting on Pennsylvania Ave., the 17-mile route includes famed spots like Embassy Row, the Naval Observatory, National Cathedral, RFK Stadium, and the Anacostia River. Go to www.bikedc.net for more information. (Registration is required.)

 

We recommend that you head to Adams Morgan on Sunday to check out Crafty Bastards, a renowned craft fair now in its seventh year. Sponsored by the Washington City Paper, it’s one of the weirdest, coolest events that DC has to offer. It takes place at the Marie Reed Learning Center on 18th Street. Shocking news: Adams Morgan during the day is just as much fun as Adams Morgan at night!

 

Page Two is always looking for submissions! Do you want to write the 5th Column, recommend someone for Student Spotlight, or have a Burning Question that you want answered? Send it our way. Help us help you. Pagetwo@cua

5th Column with Patrick McCormick

I’m one of these skinny types who listen to bands called things like “The Fire Engines,” “Reptile House” and “Hoover.” Like many thin people who listen to obscure bands named after emergency vehicles, zoo exhibits and vacuum cleaner manufacturers, I play in a band myself, and weekly practices require Sunday commutes between Washington and Baltimore, my hometown and the Billy Carter to Washington’s Jimmy. Some of you may be familiar with Baltimore thanks to HBO’s The Wire, others via David DeBoy’s 1981 novelty song “Crabs for Christmas.”

Typically one is best advised to take the MARC train to and from Baltimore. Although light on amenities and a little slow, Maryland’s commuter rail service is nonetheless reliable and comfortable enough. However, the MARC currently does not run on Sundays, requiring an early Metro ride out to Greenbelt to catch a bus to BWI, Baltimore’s commercial airport shared with Washington, and a third trip on the Baltimore light rail. For those of you from places like suburban Milwaukee, a “light rail” is sort of this half-assed trolley. The Metro and WMATA-operated bus run smoothly enough, but the light rail ride and the 40-minute wait for said rapid transit (the term “rapid” is very loosely applied here, as anyone who has ever taken Baltimore’s light rail can tell you), is generally a very close and colorful look at Baltimore’s unique local culture, to say the least.

Case in point: One chilly Sunday last spring, a gentleman was sitting in the light rail waiting area in the airport, loudly experimenting with the sounds on his cell phone. He had settled on this particularly grating key sound which bore a resemblance to the sound magic wands make in old movies. He was a classic Baltimorean; exceedingly overweight and clad head to toe in Baltimore Ravens merchandise. He spoke with a Baltimore accent, and was exactly the type of person you’d expect to log on to CrabsForChristmas.com and shell out $15.95 for a “Crabs for Christmas” CD including the title track, along with 11 other “songs.” A nondescript male companion he was traveling with took note of a wheelchair out on the light rail tracks, resting right in the train’s path. “Don’t worry about it,” muttered the heavy-set man, not even deigning to look up from his cell phone, “someone will go and get it.” How the wheelchair got onto the tracks in the first is another matter all together, one that remains a mystery.

But no one did go to retrieve wheelchair. As the time grew near from the train to arrive, I ventured out and dragged the wheelchair onto the platform, motivated by a weird little hang-up I have about not wanting a train wreck weighing on my conscience. Unfortunately, this type of oversight is typical in the Baltimore metropolitan area. In fact, in 2000 there were not one, but two light rail accidents at the BWI stop less than seven months from one another. In one of these, illicit drug use on the part of the train operator was found to be a factor, while the operator in the second accident suffered from a sleeping disorder.

So the light rail is interesting, to put it plainly. It gets me back to my band mates on Sundays cheaply, and I’ve not had a problem with reliability that I can remember. The ride through Baltimore is fairly intriguing as one gets to see local landmarks like Oriole Park, Maryland Institute College of Art, and, of course, Discount Beeper Warehouse. It’s an option when traveling up to Charm City, but it certainly shouldn’t be one’s first. God help you if someone leaves orthopedic equipment on the tracks.

Page Two - 8/22 (Orientation 2008 Issue)

The 5th Column by Kyle O’Donnell

It’s 6:45 a.m. a month before the semester begins and you’re anxiously waiting for Cardinal Station to work so you can pick your classes. But there’s one problem- Cardinal Station is the worst website on the internet. I’d rather get a “this page cannot be displayed” than have to struggle with Cardinal Station.

After sprinting across campus because the internet has gone down in your residence hall, you join a mob of angry pajama clad students.

Finally at 7:00 a.m. when the cyberselection begins you pick all of your classes and click submit. Does it work? Of course not! The site completely overloads and displays an error message for 10 minutes until it starts working again. Some people are just frantically pressing refresh as if they are playing Tetris on crack. Others are just slamming the enter button as if pressing harder will get the site to work. The girls all start panicking, and then it’s REALLY a mess. When finished selecting classes you would think everyone would just get off the computer so others could use them. But not here- instead everyone checks there Yahoo mail, school mail, and then spends at least ten minutes on Facebook. Computer etiquette has never been a forte of a CUA student.

This scenario applies to many, but there are always those exciting mornings that you over sleep. Second semester of 2008 my roommate, Chris Pierno, and I wake up by the alarm clock at 9:00 a.m. and scramble to our computers only to find out that all of our classes we wanted are full.

Another unpleasant situation is when you look at your schedule on Cardinal Station in late summer and discover conflicting classes. When finding out from the architecture department that a class has been changed without notification on Cardinal Station, you realize just how user-unfriendly the site really is. Instead of working and getting paid a few hours a week, I can now read Aristotle and fail philosophy. Thank you Cardinal Station for making me broke.

We all appreciate the new Cardinal Station that miraculously appeared without warning a few weeks ago, but we are still waiting to find out if the site can handle the largest school population ever on the day of choosing second semester classes. During the 2007-2008 winter break, the Pryz put up flashy signs and added weird artwork throughout the room to try and make it seem new-and-improved, but we all know that the food is still just about as nutritious for you as eating raw sewage.

Cardinal Station has fun new features and a new color scheme, but can it handle this year’s students? For the sake of all of the CUA students, please work Cardinal Station!

REACH KYLE AT 26ODONNK@CUA.EDU

Notes & Asides

The University has decided to ditch the term “undecided major,” while instituting the term “exploratory student.” Administrators changed it because they were fed up with students who kept complaining about what they were referenced as. In today’s news, the same students are now complaining about the term being changed.

As part of the ongoing campaign to save energy at the University, The Tower would like to do its part by encouraging students to save water by showering together, conserve heat by cuddling up with a friend at night, lay off the AC and take off some clothing and go green by going with a keg instead of a 30 pack next time you’re at the liquor store.

Students now have more than eighty television stations to choose from. Among the new additions is Fox Business, BBC America and the Military Channel…but still no HBO. Apparently the University is not a fan of Real Sex or Cathouse.

Don’t you just love your Orientation Advisor? They’re the coolest kids at school. They have to be. Only cool kids come to school a week early to hang out with freshmen.

So how about all of those parents offering Orientation Advisors tips for helping their kids move into the dorms yesterday? It’s a shame they couldn’t accept them. If yours happened to though, you can be proud to know that there is a 90 perecent probability it went to support underage drinking. Thanks!

We’re launching a new website today at CUAtower.com. Make sure you check it out. If you don’t we’ll publish something bad about you. For a little motivation, we put some embarassing Youtube videos online for your enjoyment.

Student Spotlight: Dominic Decker

Perhaps a perfect representation of all the qualities that make Catholic University students unique, Dominic Decker takes pride in his accomplishments. A junior English major with a Pre Med concentration, Decker spends his time participating in various activities on and off campus. Hailing from St. Paul , Minnesota , Decker is truly unique.

He is a member of CUA’s Honors program, which he truly enjoys. As far as his on-campus activities, Decker is a Resident Assistant in South Neighborhood. Last year, he was a Resident Assistant in Centennial Village . Decker is also a Cardinal Ambassador, which he takes great pride in, and has been doing since his freshman year.

As far as his off-campus activities, Decker spends his free time as a patient care volunteer at Children’s National Medical Center , in preparation for his future aspirations to pursue a medical career. Decker himself declares “I really busy myself with things!”

His journey to Catholic began in his freshman year of high school, during a visit with his father. “It happened just by chance. We were clearly lost, and we didn’t know where we were going, and a group of students approached us and asked us where we needed to be. They gave us directions on campus. That was my first impression of Catholic. The students were so friendly and willing to help and I just knew that it felt right here.”

Page Two - 4/25

Jacob Gallay is Graduating

Well folks, it’s been a wild ride, but this is it: my final 5th Column. I’m doing this thing called “graduating,” where a college student wakes up one day and realizes that all their stuff, (including their bed, which they are still in) are sitting out on the curb in front of the house while their parents stand waving, saying “Bye Jacob!” Yes, it’s that magical time of a college student’s life where he must face the music and go into the world with nothing but a Bachelors degree and student debts to keep them warm at night.

For those of you who have been reading since my first article sophomore year, thank you for the compliments, comments, and death threats. Seriously, that letter-bomb I got junior year tugged at the heart-strings.

Senior year has been rough on me. It’s not the normal everyday things that have been getting me down, like senior comprehensives, work, and the ever-looming fear of “reality.” No, it’s the fact that I’ve had more things stolen from me this year than any other year past. Come on, my laundry hamper? Are you serious??? I mean, the plastic electric menorah someone stole from inside my window, that sucks, but COME ON! I actually USE that hamper!

The most pressing concern on my mind is; what am I doing after college? How many of you, years ago, were asked by random relatives “which college are you going to?” And now, four years later, I’m being asked by random people in the elevator, what am I doing after college? Look delivery man, I don’t know you and that’s none of your business.

It just sucks when people ask me what I’m doing after college. I mean, it was bad enough telling people four years ago that I was going to THE Catholic University of America.

Aw come on now, Catholic, I didn’t mean it like that. No, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m just saying, we should start seeing other people. That and you got kind of fat after the whole Opus and Pope thing.

I guess we’re not all as lucky as my brother, who was able to score an internship that turned into a job working for the WWE, which he likes to inform me is a rather large corporation and is always hiring. However, I don’t have the desire to watch large, sweaty men in spandex jumping on top of each other.

Before I bid adieu, I would like to leave these two important tips for CUA. The first is that, there needs to be more diversity on this campus. And by more diversity, I mean less people from Jersey. Please. For your sake.

Second, drop the whole “Catholic” thing. Seriously, guys, this just isn’t working. Four years I’ve been here and let me tell you, it’s not catching on. Maybe something else? I don’t know, ask your marketing department. Here’s to making fun of classics majors and avoiding conversion.

- Jacob Gallay

Student Spotlight on Lindsay Fisher

Lindsay Fisher is certainly a recognizable figure on campus.  Most know her as a member of Redline A Cappella, others by her job as a Resident Assistant.  Nonetheless, this senior Music Education major from Cranford, NJ is getting ready to graduate, and she is one face that CUA will definitely miss.

Originally, Fisher auditioned for the musical theater program, but she did not get in.    “I was like let me think of a practical option that I can do but still do music, because I love music and it has to be part of my life.”  So, Fisher auditioned for Musical Education and got in the program.

Bashfully, Fisher admits she came to CUA because it was one of the few schools that accepted her.  However, Fisher laughs it off declaring, “When I came to visit, the deciding factor was that everyone was so nice, and the campus had a really big family feel, so had to go with my gut and I went here.”

Fisher seems pretty happy with her choice, and love the atmosphere at Catholic. “I love everyone’s openness because everyone knows everybody, because it’s not a huge campus.everyone’s kind of familiar,” said Fisher.

Fisher is also involved in several campus activities.  She is resident assistant in Ryan Hall.  Fisher also had the honor of singing in the papal choir.  Finally, Fisher is the co-president of Homecoming Committing.  “Basically, we make the schedule for the week and try to get people’s spirits riled up.  We have fun with it.”

Most notably, Fisher is known as the co-president of Redline, CUA’s first a cappella group.  “We love doing the invitational, and we love performing for people.  It’s just a great thing to bring the campus together to listen to a cappella music, and it’s kind of cool because we are the starting point.”

As the school year comes to a close, Fisher finds that all her stresses have passed.  “Senioritis has kind of hit me and I’m kind of emotional.”  Although Fisher is sad to leave Catholic, she declared, “It’s important to move on and it’s a new door that’s opening, and that’s exciting.  But it’s going to be weird to not be able to walk to the Pryz and have somebody cook food for me.”

As for her plans after graduation, Fisher will be working at a Broadway Tour Company in New York City as an administrative assistant.  “It’s called the Road Company, it is pretty cool.”  It is quite strange for Fisher that her college experience is over.  She wanted to provide some advice for the younger members of campus, and a goodbye to the seniors.

“I know you feel stressed out right now and you hate work but enjoy it; because the more you hate it the less you’re going to enjoy the things that are going on outside of school.  I don’t care how tired you are, go out; I don’t care, just go see the city, hang out with your friends, because you’re never going to get this back, ever.  I love you Class of 2008, and I wish you all the best of luck!”

Notes & Asides

THE TOWER thanks Mother Nature, the Kane Fitness Center, and the Grounds- keeping staff for providing the essential elements that allow CUA’s fine females to sunbathe on the lawn. Keep up the good work, we salute you.

This Sunday, Students For Life is hosting a BBQ Baby Shower to celebrate life. However, we were unaware that barbequing babies qualified as celebrating life in any way, shape, or form.

As per usual, the annual Movies on the Mall is scheduled for this Sunday. We would like to gently remind anyone who is considering streaking across the lawn to note that there may be a few remaining snipers on top of the basilica. You’ve been warned. Not that we’re discouraging you in any way, because here at the Tower, we appreciate all expressions of image.

It has been rumored that Jon Voight may be this year’s commencement speaker. Now, based on precedent set by our last speaker, we expect to have Jon Voight prayer vigils, an immense Rock the Voight rally complete with Jumbo-Tron and of course the Voight mobile. He may not be the pope, but he did play one.

5th Column: Jacob Gallay is Graduating

Well folks, it's been a wild ride, but this is it: my final 5th Column. I'm doing this thing called "graduating," where a college student wakes up one day and realizes that all their stuff, (including their bed, which they are still in) are sitting out on the curb in front of the house while their parents stand waving, saying "Bye Jacob!" Yes, it's that magical time of a college student's life where he must face the music and go into the world with nothing but a Bachelors degree and student debts to keep them warm at night.

For those of you who have been reading since my first article sophomore year, thank you for the compliments, comments, and death threats. Seriously, that letter-bomb I got junior year tugged at the heart-strings.

Senior year has been rough on me. It's not the normal everyday things that have been getting me down, like senior comprehensives, work, and the ever-looming fear of "reality." No, it's the fact that I've had more things stolen from me this year than any other year past. Come on, my laundry hamper? Are you serious??? I mean, the plastic electric menorah someone stole from inside my window, that sucks, but COME ON! I actually USE that hamper!

The most pressing concern on my mind is; what am I doing after college? How many of you, years ago, were asked by random relatives "which college are you going to?" And now, four years later, I'm being asked by random people in the elevator, what am I doing after college? Look delivery man, I don't know you and that's none of your business.

It just sucks when people ask me what I'm doing after college. I mean, it was bad enough telling people four years ago that I was going to THE Catholic University of America.

Aw come on now, Catholic, I didn't mean it like that. No, it's not you, it's me. I'm just saying, we should start seeing other people. That and you got kind of fat after the whole Opus and Pope thing.

I guess we're not all as lucky as my brother, who was able to score an internship that turned into a job working for the WWE, which he likes to inform me is a rather large corporation and is always hiring. However, I don't have the desire to watch large, sweaty men in spandex jumping on top of each other.

Before I bid adieu, I would like to leave these two important tips for CUA. The first is that, there needs to be more diversity on this campus. And by more diversity, I mean less people from Jersey. Please. For your sake.

Second, drop the whole "Catholic" thing. Seriously, guys, this just isn't working. Four years I've been here and let me tell you, it's not catching on. Maybe something else? I don't know, ask your marketing department. Here's to making fun of classics majors and avoiding conversion.

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