(The following is an excerpt from the journal of Christian Thomas, a sophomore at Utopia University.)

September 31—

I awoke this morning still suffering from last night’s television viewing.

I watched one of the new court-type programs, this one in the form of a sitcom. I heard that the ratings aren’t as high as they were predicted to be. Of course not. Who would want to watch a fictional court setting when we, the American public, have been able to watch the real thing all day long on CNN? And the real thing is a lot funnier, too.

I had nothing much to do today, so I decided to take a walk around campus, and see how others were wasting their day. I put on my shoes, and quickly left my apartment.

As I walked, I thought about how everything had changed in the last few years. How everything pretty much sucked now. How nothing was mine anymore that everybody else had caught on to what was cool and tarnished it beyond repair.

As if on cue, I walked past a house with people sitting on the front porch. The guys sitting around a keg of beer, whistling at all the girls that walked by. The girls sitting around them were all too busy piercing their belly buttons to notice. They had Nirvana blaring in the background, which added a sick irony to the whole thing.

Nirvana hated these people, the ones that caught on only after MTV did. They are the ones that I hold responsible for Kurt Cobain’s death. These “mall-ternative” teens that buy their way into acceptance. Where else can you buy into acceptance by pretending to be so rebellious?

I tried to ignore these people as I walked past, but one of the beer-guzzling guys yelled, “Hey, dude! Nirvana rules!” I looked at him with a faint smile, which hid my feelings of animosity. Shouldn’t you be in class? I thought. Shouldn’t I?

I kept walking. After a while, I was walking through what was known as Campustown. Something I noticed was that everybody seemed to stick to their own. You rarely saw any members of a different race walking or conversing together.

It made me think of the picture on the cover of our university phone book. It showed three different ethnic group members smiling and apparently talking somewhere on campus. It is a terrible misrepresentation of life on this campus. Which is too bad, this place could use a little harmony.

But although I am wishful, I am also realistic. There is hate taught everywhere, and it’s not about to stop. Until the ignorance that exists in this country is terminated, people will continue to have racial slurs in their regular vocabulary.

An oriental man walked by and offered me a smile. I felt like a hypocrite when I couldn’t return the favor. I blame it on my mood at the time.

I decided I would go to my one class that I hadn’t missed today. I found the correct building and went inside to my classroom. Actually, the class was held in more of an auditorium rather than a room. I took a seat in the rear and glanced around the room.

Class was about to start, so the room was almost full. There were approximately 300 people in there, and I didn’t know a single one. The professor walked in; I can’t remember his name right now, and he began a rather monotonous lecture about something I care nothing about.

I’m almost sure the professor couldn’t care less if we cared or not. He knew most of the people in here were only here due to requirements. The underlying theme to this whole class is that nobody cares.

After class was over, I went back home. The mail was there. Among the stack of bills, I saw my hometown newspaper. I opened it up and saw the typical things: The magistrate court listings, the obituaries and the wedding announcements. I noticed that another member of my high school class was getting married.

As a single person, I was finding myself in the minority as far as my graduating class goes. I am a sophomore in college, putting my age and the age of my old classmates between 19 and 20. How could these people be ready for such a commitment when society doesn’t view them as responsible enough to drink?

I decided to break awayÿfrom reality with a stimulating game of Tecmo Bowl on Super Nintendo.

When I turned to channel 3 (C-SPAN, in this case), I heard some congressman saying that this (I didn’t catch what this stood for) was one of the main reasons that the United States is the best country in the world. This was met with applause.

I turned on the Nintendo, scowling as I did. After my observations today, how could I believe that?

The best country in the world. Faith in that statement and 37 cents will get you a first-class stamp. And no, you won’t get a nickel back.

(Note: All characters, places and events in this column are completely fictional. Any coincidences, however, are to be expected.)

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Christopher Clair is a senior in journalism mass communication from Waukon.