THURSDAY, AUGUST 22, 2013
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
PAGE 21A
opinion
I just saw a little old lady with a cane walking up 14th. If she can do it, I think we can all suck it, we are obviously a lot more able bodied.
Being an engineer major is like being a vegetarian, you can choose to do it, but you don't need to let the whole world know you do.
White girls wish they were my shade of natural tan.
Dude...I think my butt just beat boxed because it wasn't a fart.
Picked up a penny for good luck and my Jewish boyfriend stole it out of my hand...Oh stereotypes.
My KU campus calves are the reason I can't fit in my skinny jeans.
Someone told me today that the Germans are leading philosophers. Isn't everyone a pretty good philosopher after a few beers?
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If Batman was in a frat Superman was in a Sorority.
I'm a ginger and I went outside with- out sunscreen. I should not have done that. I SHOULD NOT HAVE DONE THAT!
I always thought the statue in front of the religion building was a praying Dumbiedore. Was that just me?
There's no ladylike way to spit out a bug that flies in your mouth
Just walked in on a girl eating frost- ing while pooping. I'm so relieved to know that I'm not the only one who does that.
I can always tell when somebody is from Kansas because the clothes they wear to church are clothes I would wear out.
MUSIC
I wonder how many vulgar submissions the FFA editor gets every day
I want to use the Chancellor's restroom before I graduate. Just to see how the other half lives.
That awkward moment when you think you're alone in the bathroom and then you hear someone's phone go off.
You know you live in a scholarship hall when you find yourself yelling about Game of Thrones and feminism over lunch.
Just once, I would love to see a video of me over the weekend where I sound like I can sing decently.
Say hello to a bus driver today!
If I had a long beard, I would braid and bead it like Jack Sparrow. Or maybe tie it like Dumbledire. Or throw it over my shoulder like a continental soldier.
I'm wearing only one headphone pod, not for the chance to look hip and trendy, but because we can't have nice things, and because my cat is a monster.
Shout-out to all the maintenance workers here at KU! You all are so good at your jobs and are always so friendly to us. Thanks for being great!
Differing musical tastes build roommate relationships
How many days of school left?
opposites attract. We've all heard it before. We often use the phrase to justify and cope with the annoying antics of our counterparts, whether they are our best friends, boyfriends/girlfriends, or in this case, our roommates. When it comes to sharing a space with someone, being complete opposites may be problematic – messy vs. organized, morning vs. night person, studious vs. slacker
- however, when it comes to music, having different taste than your roommate can actually be a good thing.
Listening to different music than your roommate can introduce you to new artists and bands that you may have never heard or considered before – but that's obvious. Although broadening your musical knowledge is a good thing, a secondary benefit to having opposing tastes is that being
exposed to different sounds and genres can help improve your mood.
According to a study done by Emporia State, music has a strong influence on mood, and will often enhance a positive or negative emotion. I certainly can't be the only one who puts on The National's soothing songs when it's raining out and my bed is the only place I want to be. In this particular situation, I listen to this music for a reason – I'm not looking for a song to try and brighten my day but rather make me want to eat ice cream out of the carton even though I'm lactose intolerant.
To be honest, I listen to The National even on the sunniest of days. I just happen to love melancholy music and indie melodies that would put most people to sleep. Not to say I don't love upbeat music as well, I just
have a preference. My roommate has a preference too, though hers happens to be country and pop music - two genres that share the trait of being (for the most part) cheerful and optimistic.
By Lyndsey Havens ihavens@kansan.com
Perhaps I find country songs hard to relate to considering I grew up in the northern suburbs of Chicago, or perhaps I simply never got over the fact that I was thrown off a horse at age 7. Either way, I'm not a fan. My dislike for country music aside, the songs generally have decent lyrics with a catchy guitar twang in the background. Pop music is much the same, with somewhat less decent lyrics, but boasts a strong backbeat, usually incorporating an electronic bass that makes me feel like I'm stuck inside of a pinball machine.
While I wouldn't be likely to choose a country or pop song on my own, I will say that I have never complained when my roommate puts one on. Rather than inducing my (occasional) mope mood with music that drones on, the change of pace is often appreciated. Going from The National to icona Pop is surely a 180, but it serves as a nice reminder that I am in fact a 90s chick and have not yet retired to a rocking chair. At times it's okay to simply say, "I don't care, I love it."
Recently while in the car with a friend, I realized that he too had encountered this music mayhem. I noticed that we were listening to the crooning voices of artists like Dave Matthews and Matt Nathanson for a while and so I asked what had caused him to replace his hip-hop and rap. He simply replied, "Blame my roommate."
He told me how after living with someone who only played the type of music that Starbucks sells at the registers – as if people flock to Starbucks for their CD selection – it started to grow on him. He admitted that while he still loves the type of music that The Cave plays on a loop, listening to more mellow music has helped him to feel just that, more mellow. He proved my theory to be true.
Some roommates share clothes, some share food, so why not share music? Even if your roommate's taste in music – whatever it may be – falls on the other end of the spectrum from your own, don't dismiss it just yet. Music, like most things, should be consumed with an open mind... or in this case, an open ear.
HUMOR
Hardships of parenthood revealed to students who nanny in summer
It's not a pill, meticulously-devised calendar manipulation or semi-medieval-probably-illegal-in-a lot-of-countries device. It's all-natural, gluten-free, and FDA-approved—not to mention completely free of charge and capable of warding off unwanted pregnancy for nearly decades. It sounds too good to be true because, like your mama warned you, it is. This mystery 'drug' is modernly referred to as "nannying," a birth-control practice that makes even the most potent pharmaceutical concoctions look like sugar pills.
Like many a college student returning home from my first year away at school, I sought a job that would provide me with, to put it delicately, the biggest wad of cash. I attacked the premise of full-time nanning with common beginner phrases such as, 'How hard could this possibly be?'; 'Hey, this sure beats working at the mall!'; and the time-honored classic: 'I'm good with kids!' I was delusional, high off of viral Internet videos of impossibly adorable toddlers playing ukuleles and earnestly mispronouncing the word 'truck' as their parents chortled off camera. Nights of popping a bag of popcorn, flipping to Cars 2, and reading a few bedtime stories before returning to open domination over the fridge and remote (see "babyvitting") conned me.
Children, in reality, are not harmless bundles of refreshing innocence and unbridled curiosity - they are pint-sized mutants
By Erin Calhoun
ecalhoun@kansan.com
who (to my complete bewilderment) don't enjoy sleeping, eating, relaxing or minding their own business for a span greater than 45 seconds. Before I knew it I was a machine that rolled out of bed at 7 am, black sludge (see "coffee") in one hand, the wheel of a 2005 Honda Odyssey in the other, drag-racing through 25 mile-an-hour suburban cul-de-sacs to make it to whichever country club was hosting the day's tennis or ballet lessons. Makeup was a thing of the past, and clothes I preferred to not be tie-dyed by spilled Kool-Aid and chicken nugget grease hung in my closet untouched. Disney Channel theme songs haunted my dreams, and I became a stone-cold sibling fight referee (forearm claw mark scars as an added bonus).
So when was it exactly that nannying convinced me that a near future of parenthood surpassed Stephen King on the scale of terror? Was it while attempting to use logic with a four year old who NEEDED a piggy-back ride and NEEDED it now as I was elbow deep in the vomit of an overweight yellow lab who had consumed an entire gallon of Flavor Blasted Goldfish and three sleeves of double-stuffed Oreos? Or was it somewhere between being drenched in radioactive, orange 7-11 Sturpee and chasing a pair of dagger-taloned black cats
through an understaffed PetCo to the soundtrack of a wailing pre-teen who had been scratched by the runaway felines she had just mauled (imagine that?)
The precise moment is of little importance. What matters is that despite my complaining, my summer job provided me with exactly what a summer job should: a humbling and appropriately degrading perspective of the real world. It withdrew me from the wonderful land of academia, dining halls, and themed parties and shoved me into reality: a place where children constantly need freeze pops and where two loving parents work hard all day to provide them with a freezer full of them and a nanny to reluctantly dole them out. Whether your summer job consisted of wearing a suit and memorizing your boss's complicated Starbucks order, re-folding the denim wall four times in an hour, or scooping ice cream until your right arm grew to twice the size of your left, I hope that like me, you received an earnest glimpse into the everyday. I hope that you attack this school year with not only a refreshed cash flow, but a refreshed outlook on how far you've come, how far you still want to go and how lucky you are to have the opportunity to make it there. With that, I dust off my non-elastic shorts, begin my Disney-detox and bid you a happy first semester—and may your summer job exist as but a stepping-stone.
CAMPUS CHIRPS BACK
CAREERS
Unpaid internships not always worth sacrifice
like many students, I spent my summer as an unpaid intern earning college credit. I am grateful for the opportunity and experience I gained. However, I am not an advocate of unpaid internships.
Interning at my local newspaper was convenient. My parents' home was a five-minute drive from the office. I kept my part time job that I've had since high school. I didn't pay rent. There were no extra travel costs. Working for free didn't cost me anything but my time, and the gains were much greater.
For many others that is not the case. One fellow student, for example, worked 50 hours a week at an unpaid internship in Washington, D.C. Another student turned down an internship in D.C. because, unlike the former, she didn't know anyone who could give her a free place to stay.
Cities like D.C. and Chicago – two places I applied – are highly competitive and expensive to live in for anyone, let alone a college student who isn't getting paid.
According to Department of Labor guidelines, unpaid internships must be for the benefit of the intern exclusively, which means if companies strictly followed these guidelines most should provide at least minimum wage to interns.
It's unreasonable to say that employers should receive no benefits from interns because the interns should be receiving experience beyond what they would find in the classroom. Most of the time that means producing a product that benefits the employer - always true with journalism, where the largest benefit to students is published work for their portfolios.
Every day I benefited my employer by producing content that was published in one of four publications.
I learned far more from the experience than I would have just shadowing other journalists and fetching their coffees.
I was immediately given story assignments and asked to work independently. I was over-whelmed at first, but I know now that I learned much more than I would have had I been made to sit beside another reporter and take notes on their work.
I made mistakes that were published and affected other people,
By Kaitlyn Klein
kklein@kansan.com
Frankly, I desperately wanted to work for any organization that would help me get published and build my portfolio. I hope that this unpaid internship will be my launching pad for a paid internship in a bigger city, something I could never get if I spent my summer reporting independently on my website that only my family and friends read.
The catch-22, at least for journalism students, is that internships are vital to securing full time jobs in the future. Some internships even require previous internship experience in order to apply (What then makes it an internship 1 ask?).
In this economy it's difficult to demand that unpaid internships be abolished, but I imagine that there are many students disadvantaged—or even taken advantage of—by the current situation.
Clearer laws should be set on unpaid internships. Internships that help students receive career experience and opportunities should be welcomed, but students who relocate for an internship should earn a stipend so that they are not paying to work.
My byline was accompanied by "staff writer," not intern. I worked like any other reporter in the newsroom - and that's a good thing.
Unfortunately, especially in the case of print journalism, companies cannot afford to take on paid interns.
Companies shouldn't be forced to ask interns receive college credit for their work because that costs the students and puts a barrier up for students who pay their own way through college and can't afford to spend money on credit hours while working for free.
and then I learned from them.
Grants should be established for companies who can't afford to pay interns, but would like to help students learn more about their desired career field.
Something should be done that can benefit both parties without burdening students for their willingness to relocate. Companies shouldn't be forced to choose between either paying interns or dismantling their internship program.
@jhonjhonman
@UDK_ Opinion my transportation of choice is the blood of my enemies. Or a sedan.
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@TwerkIsland
@UKD, Opinion twerking my way downtown, walking fast, faces past and I'm homebound
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