Opinion

I left my heart in San Francisco. Then it went to Texas. Now, it’s in Chicago, dodging rats the size of German Shepherds and eluding the mob.

I’m standing by a Whole Earth Festival booth filled with interesting, exotic-looking jewelry. I’m debating whether or not to buy an overpriced necklace. There are approximately 15 girls surrounding the tiny tent, eager to get a glimpse at the various items on display.

I’ve written before about how differences of opinion between my father and I can sometimes make our political discussions … tumultuous.

The U.S. Supreme Court signaled last month that there may be a future for California’s overturned law banning the sale of violent video games to minors.

The Student Farmworker Alliance protested last week to put pressure on Sodexo, the campus dining service, to support farmworkers’ rights. The alliance is urging Sodexo to work with the Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW) in order to agree on a payment increase.

A mere three months ago, several UC Davis students lost a close friend in a drunk driving accident. Avi Schaefer was a 21-year-old freshman at Brown University, his life filled with such rare passion that his story has been filtered through various forms of media.

A particularly odd thing happened to me this weekend at Whole Earth. I was strolling along Sunday afternoon, headed toward Voorhies Hall to see if my bike was where I had left it the night prior. As I strolled, I heard the rustling of newspaper and looked down to see page two of last Thursday’s Aggie blow right past me in the pre-storm breeze. It was kind of eerie, watching myself drift in effigy off campus and into A Street.

To hear some girls talk, you’d think that every guy on the face of the planet is a conniving, black-hearted, candy-stealing blaggard who doesn’t brake for furry woodland creatures. I’d point out that they’re probably barking up the wrong trees, but people tend to not like hearing that they indirectly screw themselves over.

Boys and girls, we need to talk. After scrounging my brain for something to write about this week, I had an ah-ha moment. Why are we so afraid of talking about sex?

Well, I guess I’ll start off by reassuring you that this column will not be about my hemorrhoids (thanks, Dave Karimi). This is primarily because I don’t have them. I can feel the guy’s pain, though. Okay, I can’t literally feel it. But I can imagine and sympathize.

Last week, the UC Davis Cross Cultural Center invited anti-racism author Tim Wise to speak about how to recognize and minimize racism in America.

To the UC Davis community: Over the past several weeks, we have had many productive discussions across our campus about how we should respond to the recent incidents of hate and intolerance at UC Davis.