Recently, I had a chance meeting with a friend on campus, and the brief conversation led her to comment on my budding growth of facial hair. When I mentioned that I was partaking in the (in)famous occasion of No-Shave November, she immediately gave a huff of dismissal — something I understand. Up until this year, I had never given it much thought, considering it to be a superficial display of masculine body chemistry: “Look what I can do!”

But on the morning of Nov. 1, I took a look at my two-day remnants and thought – hey, that’s not too shabby. Admittedly, I’ve always wanted to try a beard — full, but cleanly cropped. I suppose that’s my love of folk culture talking. My current experiment with a circle beard (encompassing the mouth and chin — think Kurt Cobain) was very-well received. Had the time finally come when more would be better? I put down my razor.

The episode with my friend was the first time someone had actually commented on sparse pencil lead dotting my cheek, and it got me to wonder how I could defend such a lackluster attempt.

The ability to grow facial hair is a rite of passage for men. To speak to biology, teenage boys glance into the mirror for years wondering when they’ll be able to sport the visual symbol of testosterone. Linguistically, we only have to look to the word itself — beard “growth” — to understand its desired effects.

In the social arena, the ever-prevalent media commonly correlates beards with manhood — think of all the masculine symbols in film (Aragorn, Tony Stark, the majority of male characters in “Game of Thrones” and “The Walking Dead”). Products aimed at exactly this idea — Just for Men beard dye comes to mind — also reinforce the idea while we watch targeted ads airing during football games. To be sure, not all symbols of masculinity carry facial hair, but the connection is undoubtedly there.

It is through this line of thinking (speaking nothing of the morality of them) that many college-age males seek to grow facial hair. The danger in everything, of course, is to risk and fail. The existence of No-Shave November trivializes the inherent uncertainty of testing out physical development. In any other month of the year, a guy might be put into the (admittedly rare) position to say “Oh, I’m trying to grow a beard out” — read: “I’m measuring my physical development.”

In November, we are allowed to put forth the simple excuse of arbitrarily not shaving. Our insecurities are protected by a veneer of masculinity. Silly? Yes. But effective. I’d rather my friend have dismissed me as temporarily machismo than in doubt. That’s what masculinity is, right?

SKYLAR COLLINS
UC Davis third-year
Dramatic art

How ashamed I am now for ever feeling that way.

All mothers and fathers have special relationships with their kids, but I think there is a unique bond that forms between immigrant parents and their first-generation children. Many come from less fortunate backgrounds, often having to struggle with language barriers, social prejudice and financial hardships in order to give their kids a good future.

Immigrant parents want their children to advance socially and economically in America, but many also want them to hold on to their cultural roots.

This identity struggle to preserve one’s heritage — while also striving to succeed in a new country — is a narrative that most immigrant families share.

With that being said, I think appreciating our parents’ quirky language habits gives us a way to maintain that connection with our history and cultural identity.

Now, appreciating our mother tongue more may not seem like a big deal compared to the adversity our parents faced to get us to America, but I think it’s a crucial step that needs to be taken in order to fully recognize the sacrifices they made for us.

I specify language because it holds a different cultural value than any other aspect of one’s heritage — even more so than traditions, artistic styles or foods. It allows us to maintain ties with our cultural roots no matter what part of the world we go to because humans employ language every day. We are shaped by it, and so are our thoughts and innermost aspirations.

There’s a quality about language that’s personal and private, yet public and shared. For example, using curse words was not common in my parents’ province in the Philippines. I’d never heard my family curse in English, so when I started going to school in the United States, it was so off-putting to hear other people use curse words.

Exclamations in Tagalog are usually humorous rather than vulgar. The “cursing” I did hear — if we can even call it that — when translated into English, only meant, “Oh my vegetable!” or “Oh, pregnant horse!”

I really appreciate this about my parents, especially now that I’m older. Cursing is not a regular part of my vocabulary because of them. As a result, I have such a larger variety of colorful terms at my disposal.

It’s important to maintain this language quirkiness, specifically with the people who raised us. I read an essay about immigrant parents who “struggle along with a new language and at low-paying jobs in order for their sons and daughters to climb the economic ladder, each generation advancing a rung.”

Since first-generation youth often identify with that struggle, they are more likely to be obedient to their parents out of respect and gratitude, rather than simple obligation.

At home, my parents usually speak “Taglish,” a hybrid of Tagalog and English. Whenever I hear Taglish from Filipino-Americans outside of my family, I’m naturally drawn to them. For me, Taglish is different from standard English not just because of how it sounds, but also because it immediately calls to mind every childhood experience —  every scraped knee my parents comforted, every good grade they praised, every difficult moment they carried me through.

Once the unique language quirkiness we share with our parents is stifled — whether out of Joy Luck Club-like embarrassment or too long a separation from our roots — there are few things that can replace it.

No matter how much we may love the food, the dances or the clothes of our culture, there’s a key element that is lost to us if we don’t understand or value that unique language our parents speak.

Having that language allows us to unlock a whole family history. It gives us both a means to understand as well as a means to act. It gives us the ability to transmit our thoughts in a personal way that only our loved ones can truly understand. Without it, our entire family dynamic would be lost.

JHUNEHL “why is spam musubi so good?” FORTALEZA can be contacted at jtfortaleza@ucdavis.edu.

When people think of highly professional careers, often they’re thinking of ultra-desirable professions like doctors, or dentists, or lawyers. These are the careers that mom and dad love to brag about. They’re the super-sexy careers that people talk about with shiny eyes.

Let’s face it. A big reason why these professions are so popular is because they’re high-paid and way up there in terms of social status. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of these careers are glamorous for a reason. They serve very important functions in our society. But so do many other careers.

Like, for instance, teachers.

The education system is in dire need of highly qualified, highly skilled teachers, but there aren’t nearly enough people trying to fill those positions.

Why is that, exactly? Why are there so many people studying for years trying to become doctors and lawyers, but not nearly as many people trying to become teachers?

People don’t respect teachers.

While everybody seems to agree that teachers are important, they don’t consider them the best and brightest of their generation. It’s almost as if the attitude towards the profession is that anybody can teach, and people who become teachers are the people who can’t get a better job.

Is that right, though? I’d say that teaching is an incredibly difficult job with as much responsibility as a doctor.

Teachers have to deal with 20 to 40 hyperactive and loud students at once. These students need to be successfully instructed in a wide range of subjects while having their differing learning styles and approaches accommodated. Teachers must do this in spite of the many students who have no desire to be sitting quietly in a classroom having knowledge forced into their heads.

Teachers have to do this every weekday for three-fourths of every year. And that’s not all; teachers need to maintain a safe, welcoming classroom learning environment at all times, and they must have the details of their lesson planned out beforehand on a schedule that often starts at 6:30 a.m. and ends around 5 p.m. This is in addition to grading papers and receiving phone calls from concerned parents after hours.

Teaching takes a remarkable amount of skill and talent. The profession as a whole needs as many qualified, passionate individuals as can be found, but these people aren’t becoming teachers, frequently because of the stigma and low pay.

So what can be done about the situation?

The simplest way, of course, is to pay teachers more. Higher-paying jobs will naturally attract more people with better qualifications.

But many people will think this pay raise undeserved. Teachers’ salaries will be the first things cut in a crisis. That’s why a pay raise is only part of the solution.

I believe that the requirements for becoming a teacher need to be more rigorous. There needs to be a teaching school, the way in which doctors go to medical school, and a very difficult state or licensing examination.

If you set the standards for becoming a teacher high, people will rise to the occasion; and as those people rise, so too will public perception of the occupation. You can’t think of teachers as incompetent when their qualifications are on par with a doctor’s.

And yes, teachers do have to obtain credentials. They jump through hoops, but not to the extent of other disciplines. The U.S. needs skilled professionals in order to have the best teachers giving children the best education.

No doubt, people will ask: What is the justification for putting prospective teachers through such rigorous programs? Does an elementary school student really need somebody that specialized?

The way I see it, teachers won’t spend all that extra time and money learning about education specifically, but rather about all the other fields necessary to truly optimize the learning capacity of their students.

For instance, a teacher could benefit from training in human development — childhood to adulthood. They could also use training in leadership, communication and psychology, especially in the different modes of learning and the best ways to incorporate them.

Teachers are gateways into the future. They can make or break a student’s chances at a better life in the future. They are so important to our society, but adults don’t look up to them. In fact, frequently, they’re looked down on. They have so much responsibility, yet they aren’t recognized for it.

A higher standard for entry into the teaching profession means that teachers will be recognized for the difficulty and responsibility of their work. The disappearance of a social stigma will attract more talented, skilled individuals, ultimately improving the education experience of the students.

Tell DERRICK LEU what you think about improving teacher requirements at derleu@ucdavis.edu.

Next time you’re rushing to class, take a deep breath and observe the colors around you. Davis is just as alive as we are — plants are growing, buildings are under construction and artwork seems to spontaneously materialize in unexpected corners.

The artwork tends to be a bit bizarre, surreal and disjointed in the we’re-not-exactly-sure-what’s-happening-but-it’s-awesome kind of way. It challenges the norms that life throws in our path and forces us to exercise our imagination. Perusing pieces is a great way to relieve stress and invoke your own creative energy.

Davis itself is a vast museum. Its gardens, fountains, sculptures, paintings and strange bike apparatuses say a lot about its history and culture.

So, if you often find yourself obliviously jogging across campus just a few seconds before class begins, we highly recommend you set your alarm clock back a few minutes. Take the time to truly appreciate our city — and those who made it look so gorgeous.

The ASUCD Senate election starts today and runs through Thursday. It matters.

ASUCD has a huge presence on campus with an operational budget of over $11 million. It directly affects students through its units; Unitrans gets students to and from campus, the ASUCD Coffee House provides sustainable, nutritious food for students, the Association gives out $10,000 in scholarships yearly and ASUCD directly employs over 1,500 students. ASUCD senators directly influence all these things.

Historically, the turnout for ASUCD Senate elections has been abysmal. Out of 25,000 undergraduate students, only three to four thousand students actually vote. That is a turnout rate of 16 percent. We can do better.

This year is especially important. ASUCD faces what could be a perfect storm in the coming years. The ASUCD budget for the next fiscal year faces a huge hit from the Shared Services Center (SSC) tax and the University of California Office of the President (UCOP) tax.

Although ASUCD was exempt from the SSC tax this year, no guarantees have been made for 2013-14. Likewise, the UCOP tax is being slowly phased in. ASUCD only has to pay one third of the tax this year and will fully assess the tax over the next three years. This means one of two things: increased student fees or cuts to our units. It is crucial that we elect competent, proactive senators.

Aside from the budget, senators fill many other crucial roles in our student government. They advocate for their adopted units. They write legislation and work on committees that manage ASUCD operations. They work on personal projects to improve the quality of student life on campus. Most importantly, they advocate for the students to protect and fund what is important to us. Ethnic and Lavender Graduations, the Student of Color Conference, KDVS and many others have been supported thanks to senatorial advocacy.

The elections are held over three days and can be found online at elections.ucdavis.edu. The process is easy — you rank your candidates in order of preference. That’s it. ASUCD has polling stations set up on the Quad for students to vote between classes. You can do it from home. You can do it while falling asleep in lecture. You can do it on the bus to class. There is no excuse for not voting.

If there are any issues that matter to you — increased funding for clubs, additional support for students in need, more lobbying or just having milk tea at the CoHo — vote.

When I was a kid, we had these things called yellow books. They were mundane, archaic-looking items that people would use to contact their local pizza joint, orthodontist or occasionally the guy they met once at a party whose number they were too afraid to ask for.

As I approach adulthood, I realize we’ve traded in our yellow book for a more up-to-date novel —  a Facebook, to be exact. A yellow book was fine and dandy when people still used their phones for communication — but in the age of sparkling technology and the ability to contact people with the click of a button, Facebook has become the obvious bestseller.

But with great power comes great rejectability. Now the mystery of dodged calls has turned into the mystery of dodged friend requests — a familiar but equally aggravating sequel.

As we ask ourselves where our friend request has gone for the past two weeks, we only have one question left: Has Facebook become the new rejection hotline?

I once knew this girl in high school. She was this strong, independent type who wouldn’t take crap from anyone. She was a tough cookie — up until she liked a boy.

One summer she traveled to Cancun and surprisingly fell into a deep infatuation with a Chilean accent and the boy who spoke with it. All was going well — she even added the boy’s brother on Facebook. She left the South Pacific cheerful and optimistic, believing that the romance she experienced while on vacation would continue once she returned to the States. Apparently, no one warned this poor girl that though she left the country, the devastation of rejection was still international.

She added the boy on Facebook within the following week of her return. When he hadn’t replied two weeks later, she added him again. And a third time. Eventually she attempted to message the brother to find out why her Chilean romance hadn’t accepted her friend request yet, only to find out that the brother had deleted her as well. She began to say the same lines all daters say when they take a trip down denial road.

“Maybe it just didn’t go through. I’ll just try it again.”

“Maybe he just wasn’t online that day, or week, or year.”

“Maybe he doesn’t even know how to use Facebook.”

No matter how many maybes she said, she just couldn’t face the fact that maybe he just wasn’t that into her.

Along with the delusional rejection that Facebook has to offer, Mark Zuckerberg forgot to mention this newly added feature that wasn’t included on his social network’s terms and conditions.

Let’s pause for a second and imagine a moment when we are miraculously added as a friend and become accepted into our love interest’s elusive inner circle. Are we entirely free from the wrath of rejection?

Not quite.

With Facebook, an entirely new realm of rejection takes place. In this day and age, nothing is private. His, yours and everyone else’s answering machines are broadcasted to the world in the form of wall posts, where one can read an untouched message for days all while experiencing the slow pain of lunacy.

If the transition into psychotic isn’t painful enough, we’re also no longer free from the anonymity a guy gives us when he deletes our number off his contact list. A removed friend off Facebook can be even more menacing than not being accepted as a friend at all.

Why do we continue on in this crazed cycle of perpetual denial, when we know the answer lies right in front of us? Is our hopefulness actually what makes us hopeless?

History shows that while technology evolves, the behavior of daters has been able to withstand the test of time.

With history seemingly about to repeat itself yet again, maybe this is the generation where this behavior stops.

Maybe instead of wondering where our friend request has gone, we can log off Facebook and look for someone who’ll actually accept us. We can finally be able to face the facts that maybe if they’re ignoring you, it’s maybe because they don’t like you. And if they don’t like you, then maybe they’re not worth your time.

Then, after all is said and done, maybe, just maybe, we can stop using the word maybe.

Email JASON PHAM maybe at jpham@ucdavis.edu.

In practice, censorship misses the mark entirely.

Thirteen Ghosts was all over cable TV for a while a couple years after its release. I saw the censored version a number of times and the unedited movie at least once. This was one of the stand-out moments in which I saw a strange trend in TV censorship.

A minor character is sliced in half vertically by a falling sheet of glass, and we see the whole thing. We even watch as the half facing us slides down faster than the other side, giving us a short anatomy lesson.

In the same two and a half hours of viewing, we see the hilarious antics of Matthew Lillard, who can’t get out a sentence without a few words getting “bleeped” for the sake of not offending the audience with his dirty mouth.

My personal favorite is when they digitally alter one scene so that instead of showing us an extended middle finger, we see an angry fist that seems almost surreal in its innocence.

Censorship allows TV to play out a fantasy in which the audience can escape reality and not be subject to the harsh ends of an emotional outburst or an expression of colorful language. We are protected from offense by the helpful agents of some anti-cussing organization, in order for us to live in the fantasy that is ideal TV. And what a sick fantasy that is.

I can watch a dog sever another dog in half in a bloody car accident and trip out on drugs with a horrifying string of hallucinations — all at a time that underage viewers are likely to watch TV. I’m sure the writers of “Family Guy” are in a constant struggle with censorship, but for the battles they win that allow them to put some of the most disturbing images on TV, they constantly lose in the war on profanity.

So this fantasy world endures — angry outbursts are reduced to whimpers of childish insults, but the violent results are in plain sight.

Who does TV censorship protect, and from what? Children will hear dirty words outside of the television set — what they’re not likely to see on a regular basis is graphic violence and other elements of horror movies.

Is this choosy censorship a way of protecting the audience from the unpleasantries of reality, while at the same time introducing them to the horrors and tragedies prevalent, but not often witnessed, in the real world?

I don’t think television censorship is some big conspiracy to make people accept the world as a dangerous place, but rather to make them feel safe from the annoyance of bad words. I just think it’s broken, outdated and ineffective.

In the end, television is a source of news and a form of entertainment. It doesn’t attack its audience with foul language — it puts on a show for us to enjoy. The fun we can have laughing at the awful ways a program is censored is limited. The censorship is frankly made useless by its obviousness, its failure to recognize highly offensive images and our own creativity filling in the blanks.

So, to that audience member that we are afraid to offend — I think we’d all appreciate it if you grew up.

NICK FREDERICI can sometimes be offensive; cuss him out at nrfred@ucdavis.edu.