As you’ve heard from the hordes of UBC-goers, Imagine Day came and went, inspiring thousands of healthy minds to create their innovative futures full of love and joy. But hey, us students just like to yell in stadiums.
Let me break it down for you.
My Undergraduate Group, cutely named MUG, was supposed to meet at the disappointing and sigh-worthy time of 8:15 am, outside the Frederic Wood Theatre. I woke up at 7:30 am, which rang in my first “People wake up at this time?” feeling of the academic year. I know some of you think 7:30 is easy but when you cross-reference that with my regular summer rise-and-shine hours, the discrepancies are quite noticeable. Strange how the hottest season is the one that feels the most like heaven in the morning. Being more experienced and dominant, my “Let’s go back to sleep” area of the brain easily overpowered the part where my dreams, desires and potential are. I mean, the pillow’s right there beside me. A healthy career, love and success, is not. Good decisions are not made with pillows near.
I re-awoke at 8:00, had a mini-panic, and speed-walked to the theatre in a sitcom-esque half-jog. I made it on time but forgot to bring my signature Cool Blue Gatorade. The utter despair of walking through a 7-hour orientation with no generic blue liquid to slurp down. I had to settle for sporadic water fountains around campus, which made me feel very high school-y.
My group was fun. All the groups were split up according to related classes and mine was 20 students from the same Theatre 120 course. Oh, the easily initiated conversations of a theatre class. Theatre students are the most like kindergarteners, with words and ideas teeming at the surface, ready to explode in a spiel of knowledge and insight, saying phrases like “Wicked changed my life!” much in the way a six year old would say “I LOVE RED CRAYONS!
We toured UBC extensively, giving my legs the soreness and exercise that might make bypassing the Freshman 15 possible. You have to walk a lot at UBC, but it makes eating cake much less of a guilty act.
Now, I spent a great deal of time mulling over whether to name the entire post this or just this section. So, I would like to name the next part of this post:
“Can you do the Chan Chan”
I know, hilarious.
As part of the next stop on the tour, I was escorted, along with my MUG group into the Chan Centre, feeling like the commoners in the pit to see Shakespeare at the Globe. The theatre itself was brilliant. It’s circle shaped, rising up to the rafters with elegant ascending balconies. Perhaps the top balcony is reserved for the Queen. It might be. I continually theorize that many things are reserved for the Queen. But it was all such a historical experience, appearing as if I might look up to the royal wings to see Duke Pretentious the Third displaying the thumbs up, signifying a “Hell yeah, brother!” or an unfortunate thumbs down, signifying a “No Way Jose.” No emperor did an in-between. Did you ever notice that? I mean, what would the guards do?
“Off with his head, my lord?”
“Uhh, no.”
“Gifts of victory, my lord?”
“Uhh, not that either.”
And then everyone would be confused, and the would-be gladiator would just saunter off, to the comical confusion of everyone in the crowd, yet pleasing the one Roman at home that didn’t buy the pay-per-view. And I know what you’re saying, nothing, because you’re reading this. I mean, who talks while they’re reading? Nobody. And you’re no nobody. You’re a somebody, gosh darn it! But while you’re not “saying” anything, per say, I do know what you’re thinking.
“Evan, you’ve mentioned Shakespeare, Ancient Rome and Pay-Per-View all in one thought. Clearly you’re no History major.”
Well, inquisitive person with purple hair and chainsaws for hands (my best guess at your appearance), it is one of my very possible majors. I’m still undecided on the whole “choosing my future” thing.
And then the Dean came out, forcing my fantasy-driven mind to pause for one speech-length, a unit of time I just created. And of all the preconceptions of deans from supposed “college” movies (ex. Animal House, Old School, hell, even The House Bunny), the Dean of Arts, Dr. Gage Averill, was pretty cool. He talked in that smooth, comfortable way I want my authority figures to talk. It sent a message of “Hey, we’re working together on this.” And so he joked along, tried valiantly to fire up the flaccid UBC Arts Class of 2015 (I have no idea how Sauder and Engineering got so fired up), and left us to go on and conquer the rest of our day.
The highlight of it all was the pep rally. A university pep rally a thousand times better than a high school pep rally. And it’s got nothing to do with spirit or contribution or attitude. It’s simple actually, university just has thousands more people. When large groups of people get together for a purpose, good things happen. There are obvious exceptions (ex. Vancouver riots, lynch mobs, Ishtar) but for the most part, something magical happens. Thunderbird Arena lit up with the colour of passion and the colour of UBC. Screams and yells were encouraged and pride was expressed like a golden dolphin jumping over a rainbow. Speeches were touching, inspiring and downright awesome (I’m talking to you, AMS President).
And with that, the welcome was over. There were club booths and root beer floats, but the initiation was over. We were set loose to find our own way to succeed and our own arms to fall into. Whether it be the arms of the Player’s Club, Bizzcomm or a Greek Organization, it’s all up to UBC students to make it happen. It’s all up to us to change our lives.
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