Kendrick Lamar once said, “Life is a traffic jam.”

Pedaling through the Davis Quad, as just one of over 32,000 students on this campus, I see traffic. But raised from the concrete of Los Angeles, whose cracks swallow life every day, I know a jam bigger than a busy intersection.

Here’s how.

In a country deeply troubled by borders, Los Angeles is the pinnacle of turf warfare. Dubbed “Gang capital” of the nation, the streets of my city are claimed by over 45,000 “homies” in over 450 “hoods.”

The hood’s history goes back a long way, but a good starting point would be the “Zoot Suit Riots” of 1943, where LAPD sanctioned the beating of Latino and other youths by white sailors in a classic case of U.S. government-backed violence against “others.”

Almost 70 years later, war against “others” continues, but it’s not merely mindless “beef” between descendants of those beaten youths. In 2012, the descendants of those white sailors are still attacking black and brown skin, but in badges; sanctioned.

Because in L.A. the police are also a gang — the most brutal one, as they shed the most blood on L.A.’s concrete but with immunity. On July 22 for example, 35-year-old Alesia Thomas, a mother of two, was beaten to death despite already being handcuffed by police in South Los Angeles. In October, 3.2 million taxpayer dollars were awarded to Valerie Allen, a patient of bipolar disorder, for being shot three times in the chest, stomach and arm by police in East Hollywood.

In the former case, police reports initially omitted information about Thomas’ stomping. In the latter case, the shooter, officer Houlihan, is also responsible for fatally gunning down another L.A. citizen 30 years prior.

To this day, none of these cases have seen convictions. They are few of many.

But Los Angeles is more than just gangland. In 2012, with over 51,000 people without shelter, L.A. is also the homeless capital of the nation.

The cracks continue when the Vera Institute of Justice reveals “… the Los Angeles County jail is the largest jail in the United States, with approximately 171,000 people booked annually….”

Rest assured, those homies and homeless know it.

This shows that the Zoot Suit beatings never ended, they just changed forms.

And yet despite that, here I am.

After growing up in one of those same hoods, having gone to school with those same homies; after facing that same vicious LAPD with them, time and again, still I’m here with you.

I now share the Davis Quad with you, after a lifetime of sharing L.A.’s subways with only a few of its 51,000 homeless, even despite the cracks of my city continuing in an L.A. Unified school district that saw only 48 percent of its 2008 class graduate on time.

Like 2Pac’s poetry in “The Rose That Grew From Concrete,” even “when no one else ever cared,” I still walked out of my high school with a diploma in hand.

To tell you that even after all of this, you and I are still not so different; none of us are. That like the millions of others I’ve bustled alongside in L.A.’s traffic, and the billions of metropolitans around the globe also hustling past oppression, we all struggle.

I see it every time I walk through the CoHo looking around; it’s everywhere.

It’s not easy for anyone. It’s a traffic jam.

But I have fought traffic all of my life to get here, as my mother fought the jam for over 20 years to raise me and my brother to the task despite L.A.’s madness.

I am bigger than my time; we all are.

What’s done today is all about tomorrow.

And going to school is about more than just school, it’s about history; about the future you start here now.

Consider this, as 2012 comes to a close, before any obstacle standing between your peace after a tough day, week, year.

Consider my story as only one other reason of over 32,000 at Davis to give it all that you’ve got.

For your family and your friends, but also for only one “stranger” you walk past.

For the future you both share.

Do it because you can; you have done so all your life.

JIMMY RECINOS thanks you for your time; he can be reached at jrecinos@ucdavis.edu.

During Summer Session II, I took ENL 178 with Professor Stephen Magagnini. The class description was dry, but it ended up being the most enjoyable, enlightening class I’ve taken at Davis. This speaks volumes, because I generally do not like things.

On the last day, our class met at the professor’s house, where we took the final and had a potluck. Over dinner, we realized just how much we would presumably miss one another, and someone commented that we should create a Facebook group to stay in touch. I volunteered to make the group, which is ridiculously out of character for me. For some reason I was feeling the good vibrations and the usual cynicism just wasn’t there.

But within a week or two, I acknowledged that the group was fucking dead, and that none of our “Kumbaya” dreams were going to come true. We don’t pretend that we’re all great friends, and it’s generally understood that we’ve come and gone from each other’s lives.

Seaweed friendships are different, however. They happen in life’s littoral zone, in shallow waters where it’s easier to leech sunlight. Seaweed friendships are those “friendships” you develop with the people you’ve reluctantly touched base with over the course of your college career.

Seaweed friendships are not particularly good or bad. They’re just there, limp green wrappers on your shitty sushi. You live in the same building as some random guy, and he insists on saying “hi” even though you don’t give a fuck about him, and he doesn’t give a fuck about you. He might break the monotony by suggesting “hanging out sometime.” And you’ll say, “Yeah, sounds good,” with absolutely no intention of following through, because what sounds even better is silence and solitude, away from seaweed friends.

That’s courtesy, I guess.

When you’re just walking around campus, it’s nice to see a friendly face. But when you’re studying in the library and a seaweed friend goes out of their way to say “hi,” it’s pretty annoying. You miss out on epiphany moments and you’re forcibly reminded of how pointless and shallow most college friendships actually are. Then you reflect on your existence as a misanthropic butthole.

Seaweed friendships become especially palpable during ASUCD Senate elections. Competition can get fierce, and your vote truly does matter. With that in mind, candidates stretch themselves thin to appeal to potential voters. They’ll add you on Facebook. They’ll spout platitudes like “It was great meeting you today!” Whatever.

I get that candidates can’t realistically befriend every potential voter. The most efficient way is to subscribe to a “standard” of friendship, where you meet the minimum requirements and move on.

I’m not saying this to criticize any candidates. It’s good politics, and I wouldn’t act any differently if I were running for Senate. Campaigning is just emblematic of the shallow friendships that abound in college, and it’s a reminder that life is bureaucracy.

In the end, you can’t expect to be much more than a unit in a political numbers game. That’s just the way it is.

Which makes it all the more important that you figure out your real friends and appreciate them for everything they are. It’s a sermon straight out of Elwood City, but it’s one of the most important factors in your college experience. You don’t want to spend four years surrounded by only fake bitches and people who don’t give a shit about you.

If you’re still a freshman, start building from the ground up. It’s not going to get any easier than it already is, when you live in a dorm, have DC swipes and don’t have as many personal and academic responsibilities.

If you’re not a freshman, figure something else out. Join some clubs. Rush a fraternity. Talk to the people you like and forget about the people you don’t. Don’t let your existence become steeped in cynicism, where you wake up and think, “Fuck the world. Nothing I do actually matters. I hate everyone. Suck a dick, reflection.”

That’s my life, gray nihilism interspersed with the occasional ray of sunlight. Writing for The Aggie has been one of those rays, and I sincerely thank everyone who’s made this experience a memorable and thought-provoking one. I’m not good at this sentimental crap, so I’ll wrap it up. Fuck your fake friends, find your real ones and don’t be like me. That’s it.

There’s no longer any point in contacting BEN CHANG at bcchang@ucdavis.edu.

In a matter of days, young adults everywhere will be free from torturous finals and projects only to be released into the open arms of overbearing family members.
Although winter break is only three weeks, it definitely feels like a lifetime. We all leave school wanting to be home and realize within a few hours of returning to our hometowns that we need to be back at Davis.

Here at The Aggie, we specialize in avoiding the real world and have tips for weeks of being surrounded by people who make you want to choke on your own food.
We’ve compiled a list of fool-proof tips to help you return to school without swearing off going home for the holidays ever again.

1. The first step in surviving the holidays with your family is oversleeping. Claim that you’re still exhausted from finals; show your parents that their money went to a hard-earned education.

2. Your new best friend is in liquid form. More than ever before will you crave to exist in a constant state of drunken bliss.

3. Make sure to catch up on all of your appointments: doctor checkups, haircuts, dentist visits, etc.

4. Take advantage of being home and having private, fast internet and television with a TiVo or DVR. Spend your hours “acquiring” music and catching up on television shows that you weren’t able to watch on your laptop due to the crappy internet connection at your apartment complex.

5. Save time and avoid the frustration of interacting with relatives by handing out note cards that summarize your year as well as your recent accomplishments.

6. Plan for the future. Apply for summer internships and jobs to guarantee that you have a reason to leave the house when spring quarter is over. If your holiday has already gone to shit within the first day or two of being reunited with high school friends and relatives, book those plane tickets or vacations for next year’s break now. You’ll thank yourself later.

This holiday season, stay sane and realize that you are done. With. Finals.