It's that time of year again. If the school year has a "taint," this is it, cause it taint spring break and it taint summer, but nobody wants to go to class. And, with good reason. Around this time, New England offers a rare treat: Natives who don't sound like idiots when they talk. No, ha ha, just kidding, Bostonians! When you dispose of my body, feel free to bury it in Hah-vahd Yahd!
But New England really does offer one unique treat this time of year: Warm weather. Sometimes, it's even outright hot. When New England gets hot, it's not Arizona: This is a wet, stinky, humid, sweaty heat. It gets so hot in New England that when he visited here, the rapper Ice Cube changed his name to Lil' Puddle. It gets so hot that people cram into Pomerantz singles to cool off in the tight, airless space of no air conditioning. It gets so hot that ... Well, it gets hot. End of story.
And when it's hot, and when the administration has teased us with the coy suggestion of spring break, and seductively places its finger on the inner thigh of summer, slowly and sexily dangling the tantalizing release of post-finals bliss ... Whew! I said it was hot, right?
But seriously, when we're at this strange and difficult time of the school year, who can focus on schoolwork? Not me! (Note to professors and parents: Previous exclamatory should read,"Me!")
So, instead of focusing on my studies, these days I've been focusing my attention on other things, such as how our administration has never been more in touch with us, if by "us," you mean the citizens of planet Gazoomba.
This time, I'm annoyed by the logistical decisions that have turned Usdan into that children's game Labyrinth, where you twist the two dials around to get a ball to run a needlessly-convoluted, hole-ridden maze. Yes, Usdan is just like that now, except for the dials, ball, and hole-ridden-ness. It's the Brandeis labyrinth.
See, what happened essentially was, the University decided (correctly) that since we got that much-needed $25-million dollar student center (which we all begged for so much) nearly out of the way, it's about time to build us a new dorm. The problem being, of course, that there's not so much room on our campus ? it's more crowded than the bathrooms at Incontinence Anonymous. So, to make room for the new residence hall, we have to tear down some office buildings near Ridgewood Quad. But, those offices still have to keep operating.
Are you still with me? I know no one's in the mood to think this much ? as was demonstrated by the way the administration elected to handle the situation. So, since the offices were torn down, the University decided to relocate them to some office space in Usdan.
But, there was just this tiny pickle of a problem: There was no available office space in Usdan. So, to make room for the relocated offices, the University decided to relocate some other offices.
Specifically, the Waltham Group and Student Events were asked to move out of their spaces. This is where it gets really brilliant:
The two student groups were asked to move into the two hallways that connect Usdan's east and west sides. This, in turn, left room for the relocated Ridgewood offices, which are being torn down for the new dorm. But again, I stress, the two student groups were asked to occupy hallways!
These are hallways that connect Usdan ? hallways that link the separate sides of Usdan together. And, now we can't walk through them. If you walk through the hallway, you're now walking through an office, and they don't want you doing that! And, when the offices are unoccupied, their doors are locked. So instead of walking down the short straight path between, say, the Christian Lounge or Hillel and the Chaplaincy ? a pretty common journey ? you get to walk around to the stairs, down one level, around the building from below, and then back up to the other side of the hallway.
It is, dear friends, pure Brandeis.
And so now, it's too damn hot to go to class, and it's too damn difficult to hang out in the twisted knot of Usdan instead. So, if you won't do the one and can't handle doing the other, what's left to do?
Here at Brandeis, there's one standard fall-back option: Complain. Either that or spend your time trying to write romantic-novel-like prose about Brandeisian administrators. I, of course, have now accomplished both.
? Lex Friedman '02 submits a column to the Justice.