'Pay no attention to the Monday behind the curtain'

I almost hit a group of P-Frosh with my car today. It wasn’t on purpose, but I think I would have swerved harder for a group of some cute animal, like a bunch of ducklings or something. At least ducks wouldn’t be wearing a lanyard around their necks to remind me that they’re interested in Math—please don’t talk to me, nerd.

The incident made me reminisce, as is the case when you’re nearly charged with a felony. Coming to the end of my time here at Duke, I’m reminded of when I once could’ve been that very P-Frosh, stepping into crosswalks when the orange hand had clearly stopped flashing.

There’s an incredible excitement around going to college, and deservedly so. Your college years are formative, a veritable treasure trove of experiences: a first sighting of a Marketplace employee in Durham (they have lives, I think!), a first hookup with a professor (have fun investigating this one, Student Conduct!), a first mental breakdown after you realize your textbook has no solutions manual (and investigating this one too!). Ahh, to be young again.

Too often, though, Duke students conflate these feelings of independence, opportunity, and learning with the place where they occur. Duke is the worst—no matter how high the cranes may rise they still can’t poke through the layers of bulls*** covering the globe. There are racists, homophobes, bad girlfriends, bad boyfriends (jk, men are perfect), future serial killers, rapists, professors who don’t accept late homework and professors who do accept late homework but look at you condescendingly when you turn it in—we’ve got bad people of all kinds. As someone whose job it’s been to be critical, I haven’t scratched the surface of the problems here at Duke, let alone those in our world as a whole.

The place, the administrators or the professors aren’t the important part though—the people are. Duke gives us each the opportunity to confront these issues, to give voice to them in a way that simply isn’t possible in the echo chamber of society. So make the most of your time here—don’t burn it all in the basement of Perkins, convincing yourself skittles are a healthy choice because they have that weird green ring in the vending machine. Walk through the gardens. Go to another country on DukeEngage. Write a column for The Chronicle because if you’re an engineer who only takes Writing 101, you’ll end up hacking together sentences that will make people wonder if you’ve been over-vaccinated. My point is that every time one of us is successful, it makes that Duke degree the tiniest bit more worth the $240,000 you dropped on it—well, for me, that my financial aid donor dropped on it, but you get the point.

Duke can be its own echo chamber, though, where certain perspectives can become outright forbidden to say on campus. People who disagree with you aren’t the enemy, they’re an opportunity—an opportunity to have your views challenged, and to hopefully change their opinion. Even if you’re arguing against a person you consider the most bigoted, vile racist in the world, seizing moral high ground alienates people. It’s similar to grabbing a random girl’s hips at Shooters and pulling her towards your crotch—sure, she gets your point, but delivery matters.

Writing Monday, Monday, is a funny task—despite what the two Monday’s in the title might imply, I was surprised to learn that I actually had to write one of these things every week. It’s also the article most often associated with columnists trying to distance themselves from what they’ve written for fear of backlash. As someone who shares their name with a prolific gay porn star, the feeling of dread when I Google myself is a common one (porn star Greg, if you’re reading this right now, you owe me at least one beer next time I’m in SF—also, nice abs). I’m hoping my grandkids won’t read this one day and remind me of the time I wrote about dildos in the school newspaper—I’ve already told my grandma I don’t think The Chronicle posts articles from me online (if you’re reading this, sorry for the whore line in the last article!).

I hope this thing I made made you laugh, or at least made it to “Thing I’ll look at when I’ve exhausted my entire Facebook news feed in lecture” on your list. If not, I’ll take a page from former Monday Monday Bron Maher and remind you that, while reading this, the speeding train that is death has moved five minutes closer to you. If that isn’t comedy, what is?