On a recent episode of "South Park," in between typically outrageous sex scenes between the distinguished British evolutionist and the post-op transsexual fourth-grade teacher, Eric Cartman froze himself in ice. He froze himself because he could no longer stand to wait for the release of the Nintendo Wii. He found himself pacing back and forth, unable to fall asleep or think of anything but the new gaming system: In short, he was more anxious than Michael Richards before a show at the Apollo.
Now, there have been events in my life that I thought I'd rather freeze myself than have to wait for. For example, every day when I get home from class and realize that I still have three hours until Geraldo at Large airs on Fox. But walking around Princeton campus this past week, past the renovation of the Rocky-Mathey Library, past the ever-growing sprawl of Whitman College, past the chain-link fences in front of the architecture school, I began to wonder, "How long would I have to freeze myself before I could walk around an unblemished Princeton campus? How long before I could walk around without seeing bulldozers and 'Under Construction' signs?" (Note: This isn't really what I was thinking; really, when I was walking past the architecture school. I was thinking, "We have an architecture school?" But this is beside the point).
Daily Princetonian columnist and history professor Anthony Grafton, who makes me look like the hack that I am on a bimonthly basis, wrote in an Oct. 9 column that he "really [doesn't] like many of the buildings on our beautiful campus, but I think that even Professor Grafton would agree that the neo-Gothic architecture of Firestone Library is more aesthetically pleasing than, say, a large mound of dirt with a shovel in it.
The massive eyesore that is the Science Library seems to be the emblem of the constant campus construction. Friday's 'Prince' reported that the opening of the science library will be postponed by perhaps a year, so that we will have to endure the scrap metal rising out of the ashes on Washington Road like some sort of robotic, snail-like Phoenix. The design for the Science Library belongs to famed Canadian architect Frank Gehry and, like all of his buildings, was dreamed up when Gehry took 10 shots of Jagermeister and then played Rollercoaster Tycoon for 15 minutes. The pessimist in me can see myself at my 75th reunion, stumbling behind an Orange Key tour on my walker, asking my tour guide what that snail-like thing on Washington Road is. "Oh, that's just the Science Library," he'll say, dismounting from his flying skateboard. "They've finished the shell, but they're still working on the head and antenna. It should be done by 2084."
That construction leads to construction leads to construction — from Rocky-Mathey to Whitman to the Science Library to the Arts neighborhood — has left me with what I can only call architectural blue-balls, with no climax to the construction in sight. I suppose I came to Princeton expecting some paradise, some virginal landscape of perfection, constant through history. To use a literary allusion, I feel like Lucio at the end of Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure," who expects to be married to a virgin but instead is forced to marry the prostitute Kate Keepdown. Or, to use an allusion perhaps more familiar to a modern audience, I feel like adult film actor Johnny Studsworth in "Pleasure for Pleasure," who expects to [Editor's note: This is lewd and unacceptable!], but instead ends up [Refrain from writing such smut!]. Yes, I'm exactly like Johnny Studsworth ... except my [outrageous filth!] is [absolutely unprintable!].
I know that I shouldn't be so bitter about this, that I shouldn't go making dirt hills into mountains. I know it's a selfish wish that the campus be untouched for my four years here. But I'm like Cartman in the ice: I want my Nintendo Wii, sooner rather than later. While it isn't flattering to compare myself to one of the greediest, most offensive cartoon characters in television history, it's a comparison that is nevertheless true. Besides, I can only assume that, by now, the fourth-grader has got his Wii, while I'm still stuck with an emptied-out Rocky-Mathey Library, a skeleton of Whitman College next to Dillon, with my robotic escargot of a Science Library being built at a — har-har — snail's pace on Washington Road. Until it's all done, I'll put these concerns on ice, and I'll see you all at the ribbon-cutting. Does anyone know if the Nassau Inn is taking reservations for 2084? Jason O. Gilbert is a sophomore from Marietta, Ga. He can be reached at jogilber@princeton.edu.
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