The diary of N. Frank

Sunday, Nov. 26 :

Heathrow airport fades from view as I step onto my plane, clutching my boarding pass and passport. I am almost depressed to be flying back to Princeton after Thanksgiving. I dread the social chiaroscuro, a frenzy of drunken frat boys and depressed chain-smoking grad students that has been metaphorically alluded to in the architectural dialogue between the upper and lower campus. I tire of the squat, muscular flats of Butler and the patronizing Gothic spires of Mathey. Instead, I imagine a building of slanted glass, steel and muted light, somewhat like the Carl Icahn lab. But I am not a scientist. Or a frat boy. Alcohol's not that exciting, and I don't light dead squirrels on fire.

But enough with the generalizations. And enough of fires and bonfires. Last Friday, from the wood-paneled comfort of East Pyne, I had watched the much-anticipated bonfire from the second floor. I had thought I would be the only one inside but was soon joined by a few professors and some German majors. Many students, mostly inebriated, had gathered on the green. A primal surge of energy flowed through the murky, pointillist surface of heads. I smirked at President Tilghman's speech, wondering if she was secretly analyzing the biological impetus for fire-worship and herd-mentality at a molecular level. People were staring at the fire, forming a crucible of molten lava. A simmering, viscous river of consciousness could almost be discerned weaving through the crowd. And then, a svelte German major next to me moaned loudly, "I came to Princeton to escape this kind of culture." Yes. As for me, N. Frank, I came to Princeton to escape intolerance, to escape religious fundamentalists, to escape bigotry.

Surprising, then, to find that humans everywhere are the same. The same arguments I heard in my two-bit neo-colonial Bible-Presbyterian church are the ones I now hear Anscombe members chanting. The same shrill, unsophisticated propaganda of dictatorial third-world newspapers can now be found in my bin when the Tory has coincidentally been delivered. I had imagined meeting transhumanists and deep ecologists. Instead, I met a clique of mean gay boys and their fag hags, a boy who's so rich he thinks coins aren't money and a girl who likes having pirate parties. An impressive motley crew but by no means very original or edifying. So much for expectations — I'm done with them. I wonder why so many Americans feel politically superior to people in other countries, when really so many of the ones I've met here have much in common with those I've met in supposedly less liberal or progressive societies. The metaphor is obvious: Almost everybody worships fire, wide-eyed and wondrous.

No, I'm going to be utterly depressed again. (Like many students on campus, I hear.) I will reach Princeton in about eight hours. It isn't a shrinking world but a shriveling one.

Friday, Dec. 1:

Winter has somehow been deferred, and everyone is frumpy and grumpy. Speaking of which, I've come to detest that appalling look on students' faces when they stalk around on campus looking like they are at the center of the universe. As though they were supremely important and beautiful, like the anointed beloved children of the world. It seems far more common (and far more unappealing) in girls than in boys, on this campus at least. Sometimes I truly hate my campus job — especially when other students are nasty to you or just inconsiderate. I can't count the number of times other students have treated me like their Gollum-like servant. So much for the lack of difference between the haves and the have-nots on campus. And so much for the unifying spirit of Princeton University. I'm reminded of a line from "The Talented Mr. Ripley," about Princeton being full of rich, tasteless people. And also from Thomas Hardy: "It is a nest of schoolmasters whose characteristic is timid obsequiousness to tradition." How literary of me. I think back to the bonfire again and am immensely annoyed. What a nice idea to pretend that a pile of wood set alight could represent the whole community in one searing moment of spirited cheer. As though Princeton, exactly like God, had said, "Let there be light," and it was good. I'd like to be baptized into that vision of community, too, if I could force myself to believe. Communion with a couple of Flaming Lamborghinis might do the trick. Johann Loh is a sophomore from Singapore. He can be reached at loh@princeton.edu.