The Rice Thresher, Vol. 88, No. 1, Ed. 1 Friday, July 21, 2000 Page: 3 of 12
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THE RICE THRESHER OPINION FRIDAY, JULY 21, 2000
Are you laughing with me or at me?
\
Kitten provides parenting pop quiz
This summer was my first at-
tempt at self-sufficiency. I expected
to learn a lot about budgeting money,
shopping for groceries, paying bills
and managing my time. I
never thought I would be-
gin to learn what it was
like to be a parent.
No, I didn't knock
someone up — 1 got a cat.
Actually, my girlfriend got
a cat, so 1 guess I'm just a
stepparent.
I'll start this off by say-
ing that I have always been
a dog person. Cats seemed
too boring to be worth hav-
ing around.
But my girlfriend's kitten and I
bonded, and the next thing I knew,
Macie the cat was my little 4-pound
buddy.
Michael
Nalepa
No, I didn't knock
someone up —
a cat.
I got
She was incredibly easy to take
care of. Cats just seem to want food,
clean litter and someone to play with
every now and then.
Things were going great for a
few weeks. Money was holding out,
our apartment was clean and my job
was going well.
Then, one Saturday night, my
girlfriend and I went out. When we
came back, the cat was gone.
Our roommates had
accidentally dropped a
kerosene lamp they had
just purchased. Anyway,
we all know what happens
when you mix curiosity
and a cat.
The next thing I knew,
we were screaming down
610 to the emergency ani-
mal clinic our roommates
had taken Macie to, ago-
nizing over the possibili-
ties. When we got there,
the vet had us wait half an hour to
see her.
1 have never been that worried in
my entire life. When we saw her, she
was hooked up to an IV and looked
like someone had sucked every
ounce of energy out of her. I felt like
I was going to throw up.
The next few days brought many
trips back to the vet, and then trips
from one vet to another. There were
medications, X-rays, blood tests and
day-stays for observation. Needless
to say, this wasn't cheap.
I began to view my parents in an
entirely different light. I started to
see an inkling of those sacrifices
that they always talk about, the ones
that they say I won't understand
until I have kids of my own.
Don't get me wrong, Macie is a
cat. I couldn't imagine what it would
be like to be in this situation with a
child.
Still, it was pretty serious, and it
changed our entire summer. For
the two weeks Macie was on medi-
cation, lunch breaks were taken up
by trips home to coax the cat to take
a barrage of pills, fluids and drops.
Vet bills soared, finally topping out
at a figure over half of what I made
this summer. Grocery shopping on
a budget has taken on a whole new
meaning. Thank God for Fiesta.
Unexpected financial trouble also
destroyed any plans we had to go on
a weekend trip at the end of the
summer. When we do make visits
home before school starts, my girl-
friend and I are also going to need to
get a baby sitter for an animal we
thought would be able to take care
of itself for short periods of time.
All of this does suck, but I'm fine
with it because Macie is sitting in
front of me while I type this, trying
to steal what's left of my cereal.
She's acting normal again. Be-
sides two shaved legs where the I Vs
were, you can't even tell that any-
thing happened to her.
My best friend Todd is getting
married this November. He's 20, and
figures to have his first kid about a
year after the wedding.
I think he's out of his mind.
Michael Nalepa is opinion editor and
a Ijtvett College senior.
Pasty white musings
Concert becomes a near-deaf experience
"My ears hurt," my companion
shouted into my ear. "I^et's go."
Since neither of us was much
interested in the concert's
opening band, Kool Keith,
we left our seats for the
unfettered capitalism that
was the concourse around
the arena. "Do you think
that any of these people
are selling earplugs?" she
asked.
1 didn't know, but
searching for earplugs was
a pretty good way to pass
the time while Kool Keith
and his band of bass manu-
facturers filled the building with deaf-
ening noise.
She even went so far as to ask the
customer service attendant if ear-
plugs were available, much to my
embarrassment. Earplugs are for old
people, 1 thought. Sure, it was loud,
but I figured it couldn't possibly be
loud enough to be harmful. The
Compaq Center, Ticket master and
Kool Keith wouldn't be stupid
enough to make the concert hurt
customers who would then turn
around and sue them, right?
We walked around the entire
arena, occasionally noticing how the
bass was actually making some of
the freestanding glass booths rattle
against the floor. The busy conces-
sion booths were selling beer,
nachos, margaritas, pizza, hot dogs
and enough Red Hot Chili Peppers
and Foo Fighters apparel to clothe
most of the people in the arena —
but no earplugs.
We reflected on the irony of the
bored man sitting at a table offering
audio equipment for rent to those
with hearing disabilities. I couldn't
imagine what kind of hearing dis-
ability would prevent you from ex-
periencing Kool Keith. The music
didn't just come through your ears,
it traveled upward, through the vi-
brating concrete floor to your feet.
Finally, Kool Keith surrendered
the stage to the canned music of the
interlude between performers and
we returned to our seats, hoping the
Foo Fighters would be less loud.
And thankfully, they and the Chili
Peppers were, or at least seemed so
— they'd either turned down the
volume or our hearing had been
Brian
Stoler
dulled such that we thought so.
(However, we both thought our ear-
drums were going to pop during the
10-minute instrumental,
improvisational crap at
the end of the Chili Pep-
pers' set.)
After three hours of
such volume, I was not
shocked when my ears
were ringing as we
walked to the car. I fig-
ured it was pretty stan-
dard and thought noth-
ing of it. 1 began to freak
out a little when two hours
later, as I lay in bed try-
ing to fall asleep, the high-pitched
whine had not gone away.
But I didn't begin to panic until
the next morning, when I woke up to
discover that the ringing hadn't gone
away. And at work, I realized that
my normally astute hearing was de-
cidedly dulled.
fault for going to the loud concert,
and what kind of wimp needs to
bring earplugs?
My hearing finally went back to
normal two mornings later, a full 60
hours after I left the Compaq Cen-
ter.
After more careful exploration
on the Web, 1 found out what really
happened with my ears. When ex-
posed to loud noise, the little hairs
in your ears get irritated, causing
your ears to fill with fluid to protect
them. This fluid is what caused my
ringing and muffled hearing, and 1
could feel the symptoms fading when
the fluid began to drain.
Even though it went away, I'll
never take such a chance again.
From now on, I'm bringing earplugs
every time I go to a concert. I'd
rather look like a dork than risk
permanently damaging one of my
senses.
But I didn't begin
to panic until the
next morning, when
I woke up to discover
that the ringing
hadn V gone away.
So I did what any computer dork
would do when confronted with a
disturbing mystery: I spent two
hours researching "ringing in the
ears after a concert" on the Web.
I diagnosed myself with subjec-
tive tinnitus, which means hearing a
ringing sound despite the lack of
any sound source, caused by my
loud noise exposure. I was near tears
— from what I read, tinnitus was
incurable.
Great, I thought, I've perma-
nently damaged myself, all for one
silly concert. I pondered legal ac-
tion.
1 struggled through work, un-
able to focus on anything but my
ruined hearing. I wanted to talk to
people about my problem, but 1 was
ashamed — it was my own stupid
llrian Stoler is editor in chief and a
Hanszen College senior.
Try this column
Summer jobs illustrate the
benefits of a Rice education
Hi, my name is Gordon Wittick,
I've completed three years at I^ice
University, and this summer I'm
making $5.50 an hour picking up
garbage.
There's no reason
why I couldn't have a
better job. There's noth-
ing wrong with my edu-
cation. I just happened
to remain undecided
about my major for so
long that I ended up
with a math major my
junior year and no de-
sire to pursue a career
in math.
So, I decided to take
this summer off after any and all
interesting job prospects failed
to pan out. I spent a week looking
for any kind of job around my
parents' house, and finally found
one working at the local movie
theater as an "u sher," mostly pick-
ing up the trash that people
should have picked up them-
selves. My co-workers are all un-
der the age of 18, and my pay is
35 cents above minimum wage.
Gordon
Wittick
To receive my $2,500
tax-free stipend, / had
only to meet with my
professor for one
hour, three or four
times a week.
Or not, really.
1 wasn't always a failure,
though. Last summer I was ac-
cepted, along with 11 others, into
a prestigious math research pro-
gram at Tulane University. For
$2,500 plus free housing, I spent
eight weeks with students from
Harvard, Princeton, Duke and
Wisconsin studying topics in to-
pology, differential geometry and
the existence of God at the end of
the universe (I kid you not). To
receive my $2,500 tax-free sti-
pend, I had only to meet with my
professor for one hour, three or
four times a week. Or not, really.
This summer, to receive my
$5.50 an hour, I must pick up
cups of Coke, cheese and tobacco
spit and carry them around in
trash bags, which often break, to
the Dumpster out back. If I'm
unlucky, they'll place me at the
podium tearing tickets, where I'll
have to deal with any number of
assholes. In one hour
I had a hundred
people hating me for
not letting them sit in
their not-yet-cleaned
theater, a squat blond
ox of a woman de-
manding I bring her
some straws and a 9-
year-old girl call me
stupid.
This summer has
left me with no doubt
that education opens
financial doors. In one week,
working 60 hours at two jobs, I
barely managed to make the
same amount I made getting
drunk and sleepinginuntil2p.m.
at Tulane. After so many rich
pricks treated me like a third-
class citizen this summer, I defi-
nitely got the urge to go out,
make gobs of money and spend a
night treating a bunch of other
people like dirt.
But then I'll meet those few,
amazing people who treat every-
one they meet as fellow human
beings, and I'll remember that
math is just a bunch of play-pre-
tend games that we make up in
our heads, and I'll get a glimpse
of what it is I'm supposed to be
doing with my life.
For you incoming freshmen.
Rice offers an abundance of aca-
demic paths that lead to big
money down the road. All of you
are capable of following this path,
and some may be fortunate to
enjoy or even be passionate about
their money-making career.
But some of you, like me, may
find yourselves gravitating to-
wards a less profitable course of
study. And you may even be fool-
ish enough to pursue that course
in the real world instead of going
to graduate school.
It's a difficult road; there aren't
recruiters beating down your
door and there aren't summer
jobs that pay you thousands of
dollars to do nothing. It's a road
I've barely started down, so I can't
say much else about it. Just re-
member that every one of you is
extremely privileged, and what
you choose to do with that privi-
lege is up to you.
Gordon Wittick is opinion editor
and a Hanszen College senior.
the Rice Thresher
Hrian Stoler
Editor in Chief
Jose Luis Cubria, Mariel Tarn
Managing Editors
NEWS
Elizabeth Jardina, Editor
Olivia Allison, Ass/. Editor
l.iora Danan, Asst Editor
OPINION
Michael Nalepa, Editor
Gordon Wittick, Editor
SPORTS
Brian Stoler, Acting Editor
Jason (icrshman, Asst Editor
COPY
Ix'slie I.iu. Editor
Mary Mcssick, Ass/. Editor
CALENDAR
Josh Taylor, Editor
Rani Yadav, Editor
LIFESTYLES
Corey E. Dcvinc, Editor
Ajeet Pai
Business Manager
ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT
Mariel Tarn. Acting Editor
Robert Reichle, Editor
Michelle Tham, Page Designer
BACKPAGE
Mark l-ewis, Editor
Sarah I'itre. Editor
Hen Johnson. Editor
PHOTOGRAPHY
Rob Gaddi, Editor
Lizzie Taishoff, Editor
Nora Aehrati, Asst. Editor
l.ynlee Tanner, Ads Manager
Shannon Scott, Asst Business Manager
Robert l,ee, Ass/. Ads Manager
David Chien. Illustrator
Carly Halvorson, Office Manager
Dallon Tonilin, Computer Manager
Sol Villarreal, Distribution Manager
Adam l-a/owska, Online Editor
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ACP Ail-American newspaper. If you're down
with P, well then you're down with me.
COPYRIGHT 2000.
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Stoler, Brian. The Rice Thresher, Vol. 88, No. 1, Ed. 1 Friday, July 21, 2000, newspaper, July 21, 2000; Houston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth442986/m1/3/: accessed June 10, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Rice University Woodson Research Center.