COLLEGE...

So proclaims John Belushi's t-shirt in Animal House (filmed in part, coincidentally, on the University of Oregon campus), summing up with its capital letters an experience that only those who have been through it can relate to.

I think that image of Belushi, with his dazed yet purposeful expression, must feel so timeless because it really does convey the transforming effect of the experience. The letters on his sweatshirt are as large as the feeling of power one gains with each new gem of knowledge, each new connection with people who, for once, share your interests. It's a time of near-constant exhilaration - and not just because of the Animal-House caliber parties.

Like any good buzz, however, the COLLEGE high winds down to a low that varies in intensity from person to person. And for some, that low almost removes any good they might have seen in the experience.

Recently, I ran into a friend from my high school days who has spent the last year or so waiting tables at a Montana cafe. He did the college thing, and it wasn't for him, he said. I nodded my head in what I hoped would be a knowing manner, but not so knowing as to draw attention to the fact that despite my understanding of college as somewhat of a crock, I haven't yet gone as far as to drop out. But he's a thinking person (which is why college failed him, I'm sure), and the nod did not appease him. After all, he'd probably expected a disapproving frown or at least a shrug of the shoulders from the seemingly successful college junior before him. I sighed and elaborated, glancing down at his Green Day t-shirt as I spoke. "You mean, you feel like all you're getting is training that will allow you to become a well-oiled part of the machine?" He lit up; I continued. "And you'd rather spend your time educating yourself instead of receiving their brainwashing, then having to spend time sorting out fact from fiction, and then figuring out whether its even worth fighting the system in the first place?" I'd hit it. "Yeah, pretty much," he said. That, and his definition of success didn't involve either money or power, he added. I agreed, nodding again, but not making any sort of statement to the effect that I wished I were doing anything differently in my life.

It's not that I walk around in a Belushi-esque daze. I'm perfectly aware of what's happening, and that "they" (be it the corporate powers that rule our lives or the more vague threat of conventionality) might reach me in the end through this so-called education. And if I hadn't invested so much time already in doing what people expect of me (going to high school, getting good grades, setting my heart on a certain career), I might be also following the path of my waiter friend. The thing is this: I can wait tables when I graduate with my less than high-demand Journalism degree anyway. In the meantime, I think I am able to balance questioning everything I hear with taking what they feed me to get the slip of paper. And maybe that's what I should have told him, if it didn't sound so darn self-rightous.

Instead, I turned around and walked out the door, leaving him in his cafe. School starts again in two weeks, and there is precious little vacation time to lose. I've got a lot of un-brainwashing to catch up on.

More ranting on this subject to come, perhaps at a later date.