I live for big weekends. Homecoming, Green Key, Tubestock and, yes, even Winter Carnival. Everyone always talks about how great they are. And, in a sense, they are great. But as fun, carefree and alcohol-soaked as they are, they aren't everything. When I was a sophomore, Winter Carnival was fantastic. The keg jump will forever be etched in my memory (well, at least the sound of that one guy's skull cracking open on the ice). But when I was a freshman, it was completely different. That was when the bomb was dropped on the Greek system, when the Student Life Initiative was introduced and the vow was made to end the Greek system "as we know it." All Greek parties were canceled and the weekend was dead. Things ground to a halt. People walked around, jaws agape, and struggled to find ways to entertain themselves in the vacuum of the post-apocalyptic campus.
And in a sense, that weekend never ended. Life on this campus was forever changed. Frat parties aren't the same. The fabled "Dartmouth experience" isn't the same for anyone anymore, Greek or non-Greek, for better and for worse. Go out on a Wednesday night. Go out on a Monday night. You'll see what I mean. Nobody rages anymore. And to be honest, that's fine.
You could say the change took place because of the Trustees' stance on the Greeks, you could say the change took place because of social engineering, because of committees and subcommittees and petitions. You could say the change was inevitable -- human nature running its course. Greek life is exclusive, misogynistic, antiquated and, in many ways, truly antithetical to the educational mission of the College. You could say any of that. But the truth is, none of that means anything. Because if anything changed, it changed inside of you.
I'm no philosophy major. In fact, I've taken only one philosophy course and I probably pulled a gentleman's B-minus in it. But I do know a thing or two about free will. And whatever my experience has been -- as a fraternity brother, as a Dartmouth student and as a human being -- it only means something, it only has significance in my life because of how I choose to interpret it.
There are times when I love being a brother of my house and times when I'm deeply ashamed and embarrassed to be part of a fraternity. But there has never been a time in my life when I felt as though I wasn't in control of my experience. The Greek letters on the door of my house are just that -- letters on a door. They don't define me. And whatever benefits they give me or limits they impose on me are things I could walk away from in a second and never look back.
I talk to a lot of people about how they feel at this school because how I feel here is tough for me to pin down and I want to know where other people stand, how they feel, to give myself some base of knowledge with which to orient myself. I'd love to talk to more of you about what this school means to you; what you want it to mean for you. But at the same time, I take what I hear with an adequately sized grain of salt. Because that's your experience, not mine. College is a weird time of life. It's a transition, it's an open door, it's a defining moment, it's a window that looks out on the rest of your life; it's all that cliched crap. But most importantly, it's what you make of it.
Do I wonder what my life would be like if I joined a different house? Do I wonder what my life would be like if I never joined a house? Sure, all the time. But do I worry about it? No, never. Because it's the bed I've made, and I'm perfectly content to lie in it. And even if I weren't, it wouldn't matter, because I'd still have to lie in it, like it or not.
The campus is changing. This is indisputable. Nothing's the same anymore, and I've finally come to the realization that, in and of itself, that is a good thing. Nobody rages anymore. The Greek system is on the ropes. I'm no environmental studies major, but I know that when a big tree falls down in the forest, all the little shrubs and plants that lived in the shadow of the tree finally get their chance in the sun. Hopefully, that's what'll happen here. Hopefully, new and better alternatives will rise up and thrive. (Poison Ivy, of course, is a plant nobody wants to see thrive.) Things will get better. But even if that doesn't happen (and it doesn't look like it'll happen in my time here), the responsibility to make the most of this place still falls ultimately on each of us as individuals.
Sure, there's stuff I wish was different. Sure, I've got tons of regrets. I look back on columns I wrote a few years ago and don't recognize the person that I was back then. But I've made a commitment to myself not to be bitter and to take full advantage of the things I can control. As for everything else, everything outside of my jurisdiction, I try to forget about it. Life is what you make of it. Only I can bring myself down.
Do your own thing, whatever that may be. Do whatever it takes for you to make the most of your time here, because when you're gone, you can never come back. Have a great weekend.
