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December 27, 2006
Michael Shannon
The worst effects of alcohol abuse on the body do not tend to present themselves for years. This may seem obvious, but then again I, for one, rarely take a moment to fully recognize that fact. Alcohol is a very here-and-now, present-minded drug. When I witness a drunkard yelling obscenities at whatever as he walks up Broadway towards me, I am hardly thinking about the long-term effects on his liver. I do believe the same follows for the drunkard. An adolescent, a teen, or even a senior in college who drinks heavily, moreover, presents a unique case further complicated by inconspicuous consequences to his or her physical health and mental development. Negative effects on memory and attention span, for example, are difficult to identify in the developing brain without the benefit of MRI scans. It is far easier - and often more desirable by the abuser - to focus on the present moment.
Four weekends into December of 2005, my good friend Ezekiel drank himself into the hospital. It was a Friday night - well, early Saturday - and he had been going at his drinking pretty hard for nearly ten hours. "How much did you drink?" I asked him a couple days afterwards. "You know what, man? I really do not remember," he replied. "But then again, I was drinking with the intention of blacking out." I had not spent the evening with him, but as I settled into my bed and heard him in our suite bathroom, I was able to reconstruct the general trend of his night. He vomited a couple of times with a fair amount of dry heaving in between - all accomplished, of course, with the door open so the other three of us in the suite could hear as we tried, and failed, to get to sleep. At some point, a period of silence caused my roommate and me to go check on Ezekiel in the bathroom. We found him lying on the floor, passed out, physically convulsing a bit, and breathing slowly. We shook him awake. Ezekiel seemed aware but physically and mentally drained; his arms and legs kept shaking periodically like he was seizing. My roommate went to grab the floor's resident advisor, who suggested we call Columbia's emergency services to take him to the hospital.
The local hospital was not far from our dorm last year, only a city block. Ezekiel was monitored overnight to ensure that his alcohol poisoning did not get any worse. He returned to us Saturday afternoon.
I gave him some time to recover before asking for details concerning his hospital visit. He told me that before he was discharged he had a meeting with a doctor to discuss his history with alcohol and the consequences of his drinking habits. Ezekiel told the doctor that he had first started drinking in fifth grade, that he had been a binge drinker since age 11 and a consistently heavy drinker since age 13. He told him that he had been having acid reflux problems for many years now that was certainly aggravated by his drinking, but besides that, he knew of no distinct long-term effects stemming from his drinking habits.
The doctor, in turn, told my good friend Ezekiel that his stomach problems were probably due to his alcohol abuse and that they were due to worsen with time. He said that five years of heavy drinking were enough to cause negative effects on his liver. He said that the consequences of drinking on his still-developing brain had probably impaired his memory, attention span, and ability to learn. He said that the onset of depression and other psychological disorders was linked to adolescent drinking habits. He said that a person who began drinking as an adolescent was far more likely to develop a dependence on alcohol than someone who began drinking later on. The doctor recommended that Ezekiel change his drinking habits immediately and seek help to do so.
My good friend Ezekiel recounted all this to me with a grin on his face.
One year later and it is more of the same. His stomach problems are slightly worse, his short term memory remains relatively dull, and he is still drinking like there's no tomorrow. Ezekiel knows about all long-term effects of his drinking habits; he has been told them so many times that he has surely memorized them by now. He knows that long-term alcohol abuse can lead to heart disease, liver failure, cancer of the esophagus, throat, or mouth, and pancreatitis. He knows that drinking since adolescence and drinking while his brain is still developing presents its own unique health risks.
Ezekiel knows all this, but to him the effects are nothing more than mere words. They are not worries for now, not things worth thinking about when a beer is in hand.
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December 20, 2006
Vera Simon-Nobes
"My friend this, my friend that…" I have realized how boring the word "friend" is. In order to guiltlessly use the word, I've decided to sketch out "people." These are people I have known at one point or another in my life, and each of their stories says something about issues with alcohol.
Dudley is the kind of kid who was always "too smart for school." He is brilliant, shy, humble, tall, and attractive. He drinks almost every night and rarely sees its negative consequences. His friends joke about him being an alcoholic almost everyday. They enthusiastically encourage his funny and off-beat habits. Their behavior leads me to question their confidence.
I first notice their extreme overconfidence in Dudley himself. They trust that he knows his limits, would seek help if he ever truly needed it, and when it all comes down to it, they have confidence that he really is in control of his drinking. Their ability to joke about his problem without ever bringing it up seriously shows the confidence they hold in Dudley, but also the lack of confidence they have in themselves.
How much weight should be placed on a gut feeling? Do any of Dudley's friends wish that they could address his alcoholism seriously? I have to imagine that there are people who are genuinely worried about Dudley, but they have no confidence in themselves, so they push their feeling of worry aside. Should they feel confident? They can't give themselves credit for making the right decisions in the past when they haven't had any experience dealing with such issues. A lack of experience leads to a lack of confidence.
Next, there is Murphy who "lost it." The student was like any other kid his third year of college. His fourth year came along and something changed. Too much substance abuse sent him over the edge - he couldn't be in social situations and had to be removed from his school.
I recently overheard two students talking about Murphy. "It's really horrible, but it's kind of interesting to see a kid like that, who surpassed his limits. It helps you know what your own limits are." At first I agreed with the student's comment…I imagined Murphy's story inspiring him to heed his intuitions about substance abuse: be careful, it could happen to you. But then I thought further. Was it really possible that this kid had nothing stopping him from surpassing his own limits aside from Murphy's story? There wasn't a desire to avoid the stigma of being a druggie or alcoholic, the need to get to class on time, the wrath of his parents, or the desire to physically feel good?
John is a caring, confident person. He's a "good kid," a smart boy who grew up in the suburbs and has a love of justice. The two times he got in trouble for breaking the school's alcohol policy he petitioned to change the rule before even beginning to think about his judicial board hearing. He pleaded to change the rules and was denied. He followed through with his judicial hearing, and when he got in trouble again, the whole process started over. Since his first year at school he's stayed out of trouble, though if he broke the rules again, I have no doubt that he'd petition to eliminate the rule that he broke.
I've brought up these three stories because they're not unconnected. These three are closely linked. But just how are they related? John and Murphy are Dudley's best friends. Dudley is the one who looked to Murphy's limits to determine his own.
Each person's story is unique. As I write for the audience of fellow college-aged kids, I want to emphasize how these three stories flowed together. If you read this without interrupting yourself, or questioning their stories, I see it as a success on my part to present you with stories that you can relate to. Does it surprise you that the three students are so closely linked? My guess is that it doesn't surprise you, because the ideas of over-confidence, lack of confidence, substance abuse, and determined (or stubborn) denial of the current 'system' are common on campuses throughout the country.
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December 13, 2006
Kate Frankola
Drinking with Dad
I love drinking with my dad. When he and my mom came to visit me in October, he treated us all to hand grenades as we bar-hopped in the French Quarter, on a quest for the best live music. This past summer, he'd accompany me to the pool on weekends, order two vodka/Diet Pepsis and discreetly pass one to me, and proceed to converse with me about everything from his job to economics to alcohol itself.
My father is by no means an irresponsible parent. He won't move the car until all passengers are wearing seatbelts. When I had my first serious boyfriend junior year of high school, he made sure to discuss with me - often at length and much to my annoyance - all of the risks associated with sex. My dad is a moderate, in all aspects of life. It really is no surprise that he'd been exposing my brothers and me to and alcohol from an early age, when he could control our intake and help us learn from experience how to be responsible and moderate drinkers. I really think he had the right idea, and to this day I wish that I'd taken him up on some of his drink offers.
When I entered ninth grade, I quickly carved a place for myself in the social circle of some other girls in my honors classes, all of whom - like me, at that time - were studious, wholesome, and proud of it. As many of our classmates began experimenting with alcohol and attending parties where drinking was occurring, my new friends made it clear that they viewed that sort of behavior as irresponsible and in opposition to their values. Because I liked these girls and was eager to have friends, and because they'd begun to convince me that the only path to success was the straightest and most narrow, I quickly adopted their views on alcohol. Peer pressure works in all sorts of interesting ways.
Not only did I begin to adamantly refuse the small quantities of alcohol offered to me on special occasions by my father, I took the offers as an opportunity to preach about the evils of alcohol and declare my status as a lifelong non-drinker. Yes, my stance was a bit extreme and obviously the product of a substantial amount of naiveté. But I was so convinced, and increasingly consumed by the pressure of my self-imposed ascetic lifestyle, that my mind could not and would not be changed - at least for a few years.
During my resolute non-drinker phase, my dad always warned me that my views would eventually change, and most likely they would do so suddenly and overwhelmingly, as one day I would simply "burst" from the pressure that I was putting on myself. "Kate, just have a glass of wine," he'd say on Christmas Eve. "I want you to see that one glass of wine won't ruin your life ... but all those nights you'll probably spend binge-drinking in college will. You're going to go crazy to make up for all of this silly pressure you're putting on yourself now." And he was right.
I got drunk for the first time in March of senior year of high school, and I loved it. There was no going back. I binge-drank every weekend until graduation, nearly every night that summer (usually with the 24-year-old guy that I'd started dating, his sole appeal being his legal access to alcohol), and far too many nights and even days that first semester of college. I'd black out on a weekly basis. I'd throw up every time I drank. I'd drink so much that I'd remain drunk well into the afternoon of the next day. I remember spending my days scheming how to get my hands on another bottle ... and I don't remember the vast majority of my nights.
I am a living example of the so-called "college effect": an overly conscientious, extremely successful and success-driven high school student who'd always been implicitly conditioned by her like-minded peers to associate any degree of alcohol consumption with total loss of control and failure. By the time college rolled around, I was so stressed and exhausted from years of that perceived pressure, much of which was self-inflicted, that I really did "go crazy," as my extreme binge-drinking led to all sorts of other extreme behavior.
Accepting my dad's occasional offers of alcohol probably wouldn't have single-handedly prevented me from being so uptight in high school and overcompensating later. However, doing so probably would have translated to me being generally more laid back and open-minded, and consequently a less neurotic high school student with far less of a potential to go completely wild at the beginning of college.
I was lucky enough to grow up with parents who didn't put pressure on me to over-achieve, enforce strict rules, or hold unrealistic expectations ... and I still managed to turn myself into an anxious, success-obsessed mess who was bound to eventually self-destruct in one way or another. The "college effect" that I observed in some of my peers last year was even more pronounced in those students who grew up in very strict households in addition to holding themselves to ridiculously high standards throughout high school.
If a parent who highly encouraged me to be countercultural with respect to my success-fixated social circle was not a strong enough influence to prevent me from falling into the same pattern, I don't know what would have been. I don't know where the ultimate source of this pressure comes from, or how it is so effectively perpetuated. All I know is that, now that I've finally relaxed and settled into a comfortable balance of work and play, I'm much more content with life and with myself than I ever was before. And I'll probably report that to my dad over a glass of wine at Christmas.
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December 6, 2006
Michael Shannon
We - the youth of America, the children of the internet age - have realized the new millennium after those booming 1990s - the years we grew up with the consequences of ravenous consumption, rapid technological advance, war, terror, and TRL flooding our senses to the point of bewilderment. Emerging from the last vestiges of the twentieth century, we have found all truths uncovered (nowhere to go), all securities fleeting (nowhere to hide), and all our actions inconsequential in regards to the great nothingness we seem to be aiming at. This here is a hollow generation. Its members are marked by WTC-shaped holes in their hearts, and a quiet desperation as they try and fill it.
My good friend is a product of his time, the fully-loaded-and-still-lacking 21st century. Besides Facebook and mixing beats, he has few aspirations but to fill in that heart-hole, though he probably wouldn't put it that way. Instead, he would affirm his hunger for "success," but an empty success defined by the accumulation of material goods/recognition by others/an unquenchable need to do and have more than his parents and anyone within eyesight.
Ezekiel gallops after "success" just like he drinks: it is unthinking, instinctual, he does it like every one is watching, and he does it like something is chasing him. He does it like he is being hunted, and when a guy is running for his blessed life there aren't lasting periods of peace. He spent a mere 13 days in total sobriety in October, a barely praiseworthy 26 days drinking alcohol multiple times a week but with relative moderation, then, on November 10, he got drunk and it has been steeply downhill ever since. He has been drinking heavily for two weeks now: wasted every weekend night, Thursday through Sunday (at Columbia, students do not typically have classes on Fridays, but we all certainly do on Mondays), and on three separate occasions, as of this writing, I have seen him taking beer bongs of Natty Ice in his room or received a call from him as he took back tequila shots at the bar ("Hear what I can do!") during the week.
I cannot say anything particular changed for him November 10, and, knowing him, Ezekiel would agree. Really, I do not believe, now, that any event needs to occur to turn him on to alcohol abuse.
No doubt, though, his friends played a part. Ezekiel has established many of his friendships - most, in fact - through his use of alcohol. Ours is one of his few friendships where he can truthfully say that alcohol played no part in its origination (we were suitemates freshman year). The case with most of his friends is they meet at the bars or at parties and they are usually drawn together precisely because they enjoy drinking socially and drinking heavily.
Then again, this simple answer in no way treats his situation adequately. When dealing with bottomless pits carved right in a man's heart, even metaphorically, shallow explanations hardly reach the surface.
Looking deeper: I've seen the same grin on my good friend Ezekiel's face when he received an A on his economics midterm - when he achieves his success - as when he is passed-out drunk. Alcohol abuse is right in line with his very modern desires for success. Both drink and 'success' bring him recognition (sometimes undesirable ) from those around him, empowerment (false), security (fleeting), and the feeling that something great is about to happen in an otherwise drab and pointless existence. Drinking is instant gratification. It gives a temporary, but immediate fill. It is Success! in a bottle.
Where does that leave Ezekiel? Where does that leave me? What should I say, that he has been endowed with this persistent emptiness? That he is trying, fruitlessly, to fill it with a perverted sense of success and loads of alcohol? No, no, there has to be more to it.
This is a time of answers a-plenty and energy without bounds. But where do we go from here?
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