In his book Escapism, Yi-Fu Tuan explores the relationships between humans and nature. He argues that humans invite nature into their lives by planting gardens and growing grass, but try to escape that nature by trimming it back, forcing it into patterns and designated places, and arranging it according to our standards of beautiful.

I’ve thought about that a lot since I arrived in Colorado for the summer. My stereotype for Coloradans (particularly people who live in the Denver Metro area) is that everyone is very environmentally conscious, runs up and down mountains in the summer, skis all the time in winter, bikes to work or takes the bus, and is generally aware of their actions towards nature. Because of my stereotype, I thought that more people would prefer natural-looking flora over manipulated, pristine rows of common suburban plant-life. I was wrong, and I found that yuppie troops march in full force, leaving in their wake highly-structured and tightly-scheduled gardens.

I went looking for an ungroomed plot of nature that was within walking distance. I promised myself that I would look without touching, appreciate without prying, and seek to find beauty in even the ugliest of creatures.

School starts again tomorrow. I can’t believe that I’m starting on my second semester of college. I don’t feel like I’m a college student. I guess I had always imagined that it would be different somehow. I think that the media portrays college as something that is akin to Disneyland for big kids–fun all the time. And not only fun all the time, but the ONLY place on earth that you can have fun. I’m so disillusioned that sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to have fun once you grow up and get a real job.

At any rate, college is fun, but it’s not fun all the time. Just sometimes. It’s fun to look at all the different classes that are available, and imagine all the possibilities of the future. But it’s also been the most stressful time of my life. Now I understand why psychological problems start appearing once people hit the college age.

I’m hopeful and optimistic. This will be a good semester.

All of my final grades have been released. The following graph shows my final grade, what grade I think my professor deserves, and how I grade the class as a whole. I gave my professors grades based on how I felt I was treated, how much interest they put into the class, and how well they taught. I graded the class on how people interacted together and how interesting the material was.

For all of my classes, the material was pretty interesting, but not necessarily something that I would use outside of college. In the case of my Books and Dialog class, the material will be useful for my whole life (I didn’t sell back any of that class’s books), but the people in my discussion group did not want to participate.

As for the professor ratings, the two professors who got an A knew how to teach well, had a tight lecture schedule that they stuck to, and knew my name. My professor in my Latin American class knew my name by the second week, and I was one of 200 students (give or take a few) in her lecture hall. My English teacher, though very nice, did not teach me anything. I’m not sure if she taught anyone in that class anything. And my Human Geography professor seemed to enjoy teaching, but he didn’t enjoy anyone who was not an honors student.

I got a B in English. Eighty percent of the grade was based on 4 essays, and the remaining percentage was based on other little writing projects that we did. My essay grades were really all over the place in that class. I don’t feel like I’m that inconsistent in my writing, but maybe the inconsistency comes a little from my professor and a little from me.

It is such a relief to have this semester over with.

With only four weeks left in the semester (OMG!), I have realized that I may not have learned a whole lot of things that are completely necessary to my future well-being (Von Thunen Model, anyone?), but I have learned one thing: English classes are the devil.

I’m not saying that because I’m bitter (even though I am a little bit). I’m saying that because, oh yeah, I’m going to be writing essays for a living after I graduate. Because people spend four years of their life learning to craft the perfect essay in order to find a deeper meaning in the first couple stanzas of Ginsberg’s Howl. No people, let’s be realistic here. The man was high, and in order to enjoy a poem of his you must be high, and in order for someone to even being to want to read literary criticism on a poem of his, that someone must be high. The point here is this: I read it and I like it, or I read it and I don’t like it, but I’m not all that compelled to read an essay that someone wrote about it.

Okay, instance number two. Picture me, giving a presentation about my company to a group of investors.

“And thus concludes why Company X can be related to the short story ‘The School’.”

“Are you on crack?”

See what I mean?

So, after next semester is over, I vow to never write another essay. I’m not sure what I’ll do, but know this: I’ll be damned if I take another English class.

The other day I was watching a couple of guys on the volley ball court acting totally gay with each other.  They were talking with a lisp, fawning on each other, and throwing around the phrase “FABulous honey!”  The thing is, they weren’t gay.

This isn’t anything new.  I see guys from about middle school age on up through recent college graduate age acting gay without being gay.  They’re the same old straight guys who don’t like clothes shopping, have a questionable sense of style, and would be offended if a stranger in a bar teased them about their sexuality leaning.  So what gives?

I decided to ask my straight friend Alex.

“Alex, why do you think it is that straight guys sometimes act gay together?”

“To be funny.”

Okay, yeah, I guess, but that didn’t satisfy me.  Girls don’t act lesbian together unless they really are lesbian, or drunk.

So then I consulted my Brazilian friend, Silas (straight, but speaks a love language).

“Silas, do guys in Brazil act gay together?”

“Yes, humor is one of Brazil’s greatest strengths.”

“But do they do this because it’s funny, or because of something else?”

“They only do it because of humor.  Guys can express their emotions here and not worry about it, so what other reasons would there be?  I mean, here guys kiss each other and aren’t called gay.  It’s common to see two old guys kissing on the cheek.”

I thought Silas’s answer was pretty telling.  I told my friend Meagan about what Silas said, and she ran with it.

“I think that two straight guys acting gay together is one way that they can show just friendly emotions for each other, not be called gay, and be funny all in one.  It’s a win-win situation.”

I think that’s true.  Is American culture turning the boys of Generation Y into fake fags?