Editor,
With two degrees under my belt, I’ve been a full-time student at UNM since our country was foolish enough to believe that the XFL and a daddy’s boy from Texas as president were bulletproof ideas. Now that the sun has set on my days at UNM, and the bar exam is a memory similar to calculus and organic chemistry, I have several weeks to kill before beginning a new job.
Today was the first day of the fall semester. I awoke this morning like one of Pavlov’s dogs, conditioned to begin a blooming fall semester. Wiping the crust from my eyes, I realized that by graduating and taking the bar, I had exchanged classes and homework for several weeks filled with a degree of free time rivaling the fish and ducks at the pond.
As the first day of the semester progressed, my initial outlook changed from unrivaled happiness to relentless boredom. Around noon, with daytime TV beginning to take its toll on my mind, I decided that the gym was a decent idea to kill time.
Stepping into the gym I felt as though I had inadvertently traveled 50 years forward in time. I’ve heard about the flux capacitor of the Delorean, so I know that anything is possible. “Holy shit,” I thought to myself, looking at my contemporaries at the gym, “I’m old!”
I began running through my mental Rolodex for any evidence of my youth: I like the Rat Pack — not a good sign. Ernest Hemingway — the Magic 8-Ball of life says “outlook not good.” How about Moon Pies? An alarm went off and my eyes fell to the floor. I’m also wearing Velcro shoes.
Coming to the conclusion that I somehow managed to transport in time, I found myself with an unbearable desire to clip coupons, discuss General Patton’s military genius, and consume large quantities of prune juice. Notwithstanding these sudden urges, I was frozen by the unbearable chill running through the gym. The loud and grossly inappropriate music blaring from the speakers also prevented me from forming any coherent thoughts. I walked to the front desk, brimming with a desire to complain about the chill and inappropriate music to the whippersnappers on staff. Passing my cohorts, I fought the urge to reach into my trusty fanny pack to display pictures of my seven cats named Buttons and pictures of my grandchildren.
I suddenly caught a glimpse of the mirror. The mirror confirmed that “Futurama” and Doc from “Back to the Future” had corrupted my mind. I was still young. Strolling back to the row machine, I suddenly realized that having too much free time, similar to the guy that dances poorly to noise pollution outside of the SUB, has its drawbacks.
So enjoy your fall semester at UNM. As for me, I’ll be at home watching re-runs of “The Price is Right.”
Matt Sanchez
UNM alumnus
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