(November 21, 2006) — Clark Magnet High School is the name of the school we go to. Magnet is the key word on that one—an indicative word basically binding us all to a college future. So in that sense, from day one as freshmen, we’re expected to already be thinking four years ahead to that fateful day when we embark on the journey of higher education. I recently had the opportunity to go to such an institute of higher learning located in California. Though I will name no names, let’s just say it’s a very prestigious school that many would dream of going to. I was given a first-hand tour by my friend, who goes by the moniker of fish. I was ready to see a great level of intelligent grace through the actions of all the students around me, unlike my high school peers; however, I was shocked and appalled to find that college students boil down to three stereotypes. I encountered the first very often. I was ushered into a room by fish, and hit with the scent of some sort of super special college herb that no one would identify for me. SNAP! A towel whipped the back of another male student. The nakedness, the horror, the obnoxious yelling echoed in my head. Tears welled up in my eyes as I came to the realization that I was Dorothy and I was definitely not in Kansas anymore. “He’s drunk,” fish said with a smile. DRUNK?! Surely he wasn’t a senior in a dorm, so he must’ve been underage. Right then, I could see it: college, my Venus de Milo, had just lost its arm thanks to some drunk frat guy. “No more! No more horror,” my mind frantically repeated. Just then, I was forced to meet the second stereotype. I was being lead to a cafeteria, walking through a beautiful grass area where students frolicked. I reassured myself that the horror of nakedness was just a fluke in my perfect image of college life. It was all over, however, when I fell—yes, I literally fell. I got up and realized I had tripped over a human being. I apologized vehemently hoping I wouldn’t get robbed, stabbed, hurt, yelled at, or anything like that. His eyes were so empty, so pathetic looking, “It’s fine, no one knows I’m here anyway…No one knows me at all…I’m not here…” His voice, so quiet, had a crazy inner torment. Needless to say, I was scared as hell so I got out of there immediately. While eating at the cafeteria with fish, however, the food on my fork, began to melt away—who loved me? Who cared about me? If I was gone would someone notice? I was sucked in. All because of the emotional lethargic kid. Then she came, with an immense amount of beauty—a book in her hand. I could hear the siren singing, I was completely enchanted and entranced. Her long hair, her skirt, her tall seamless, curvy figure; yet I looked closer and it was all gone in an instant. The book’s title ended it all, Perfection: A Life With No Men . NO Men?! She bumped into some poor guy, who received the greatest lecture I have ever heard regarding feminism and women’s rights. There she was. A liberal ambiguous beautiful woman. I looked back at her while leaving the cafeteria with one question in my head, “So…do you like girls?” It was done, I left the campus feeling so bad. I mean, I’m sure there are plenty of good people in college; but my experience taught me one thing: don’t expect an educational maturity in college students—its just as bad as high school. Poppycock—seriously.