Daily Staff Writer

Editor’s note: The following is a continuing journal of a fictional college student. It is intended to be a humorous and enjoyable feature about an average joe. It will run weekly, on Fridays. Though written by Iowa State’s own Scott Jacobson, a Daily staff writer, people, places and events detailed below are not analogous to a real student, least of all Jake.

August 30, 1996

Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to write in this thing, but Tina told me that it would be cool to have a journal of my college years and since she bought it for me, I guess this is the least I can do.

We’ve been going out for about five months and she said that this could be a good way to keep track of what we do together.

Yep, it sounds corny, but I’ll give it a go. If nothing else it’ll help me remember the nights I may otherwise forget due to selective memory loss. Enough said.

How do you start something like this out?

You want to write something really profound so that when you look back you can say: “Man, I was deep back then.”

But at the same time, if I write something too cheesy, it’ll start to sound like a Hallmark card.

Screw that. OK, here goes . . .

It’s the week after my birthday. No. 20. Three hundred and fifty-some more days. This could possibly be the longest year of my life. Oh well, I’ll get by.

Now what else can I write that I won’t know anyways when I look back in 30 years?

Let’s see, I’m starting my junior year and I don’t dig my classes, but in 30 years, I’ll probably lie to my kids, if I ever have any, and tell them that they were great. The classes, not the kids.

I’ll probably graduate in five years (total, not from now), and then I have no clue what I’ll do. But that’s why I’m here—to figure things out.

Why is it that in the movies, these always have such deep meanings and unveil the secret to life itself?

“Did you check her diary, detective?”

“Why no. What did she happen to write in it the night before she was murdered so mysteriously? Could it be a clue??”

“Well, it says here that she was planning to meet Mr. Suchandsuch at the park the next night.”

And so on and so on, blah blah buckshot, pick a bail of cotton. And if I ever do write any deep seeded messages or philosophical nonsense in this, just shoot me anyway and let them check this thing out.

And I hate the word diary. It makes me think of Little House on the Prairie or Anne Frank or something. I don’t know what I’ll call this, but it sure isn’t a diary.

Of course, no one else can read this. Not even Tina. Sure, she gave it to me, but I can’t break down and let her peek in here.

After all, did any of the Brady kids ever let the other ones read their diaries? Not a chance.

Greg would never go for that. I wonder if he did keep a diary. I’m thinking Peter probably did and I’m not quite sure about Bobby.

The girls had to. It was the law back then. Even Marcia Marcia Marcia. Saw her on the “Rosie O’Donnell Show” the other day. She’s still hot. Or maybe it was Jan. Either way, the years have been kind.

I wonder if Tina will look that good down the road. I think we’ll probably be together for a while, even though we’ve had our problems.

That night I passed out in her lawn (mug night of finals week wearing very little). The Friday night I never showed up (rough f.a.c.).

The times she kissed those two other guys (both ex-boyfriends, so she said it was all right) and on and on and on.

We’ve only broken up for a few days at a time and last week, I thought it may be for good. After all, who kisses another guy on her boyfriend’s birthday?

But she apologized. I held out. She started crying.

I gave in.

Maybe it’s because I felt bad when I saw the tears.

Maybe it’s because deep down I really wanted to believe she was sorry.

Or maybe it’s because I was drunk and wanted some lovin’ regardless of who it was. Yep. That’s the reason. The first two sound better though.

Oh well, I don’t know if this is any kind of intro, but I’m tired of writing. After all, who am I trying to impress?

Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow night.