Conor’s Complaints Top 10: Shut up and play the hits


Clarion photo Ashley Lytle

By Conor Bergin, Editor-in-Chief

What is that I hear? The crowd calling for an encore? Or am I just a little too bored on a Summer day and a little too sentimental about high school already? Well whatever the reason is, I welcome you to the Conor’s Complaints Top 10 Spectacular Bonus Special, the best thing you didn’t know you needed. I sifted through the 28 articles of my three year column and narrowed down the 65 complaints and 12 compliments to the ten best entries, as well as pulled out notable soundbites. I, along with my fellow judge, my mother, selected the entries based off a criteria that included, overall message, humor, crowd review, personal favorites, importance to the column, and overall quality of writing. This is why complaints from sophomore year are able to hang with complaints from my more-developed senior year. Without further ado, I will shut up and play the hits.



“As the great Ferris Bueller once said, ‘Life goes by pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look up from your phone once in awhile, you could miss it.’ At least I think that’s how the quote goes.”

“Playing Christmas music and movies in July is like playing “Friday I’m in Love” on a Monday”

“During Facetime, the person I am talking to takes up 95% of the screen, yet I can’t keep my eyes away from the 5% of me in the corner.”

“So bundle up by the fire, get a mug of hot cocoa, turn on some K103.3 Christmas tunes, and tune out your racist uncle with these nice compliments. Don’t worry, he won’t even realize you stopped listening, he’ll just keep going.”

“Our society has come too far and I have listened to too many Ingrid Michaelson songs to revert back to an era when guys would get punched in the face for listening to Ingrid Michaelson songs.”

Harry Potter Weekend on ABC Family is more important than Sunday homework”

“What do Professor X and my mom have in common? They are the only superheroes with disability parking permits.”

I’ve seen your nice bathroom floors, Central Catholic; I’d eat pasta off those tiles and then lick up the leftover sauce. And when your football team bus caught on fire last year and made national news, the first thing that went through my head was, Damn, that’s a nice bus.”

“This brought me to the realization that my biggest audience is middle-aged Cleveland moms.”

“I welcome you to the third and final year of Conor’s Complaints, my running column where I rant about the inconveniences and cruelties of life through the eyes of an urban, middle-class white kid from Portland, Oregon. Now as I think about it, we should have really just titled this column “First World Problems” all these years.”


Top Complaints

Honorable Mentions


Senior Year, Complaint #57

Kids at the SATs

This is the second time I have used Conor’s Complaints ink space to write about my dissatisfactions with the SAT, so if you couldn’t already tell, I do not care much for the whole test-taking process. I will make this rant short and sweet: If you show up to the SAT wearing a sweater from a prestigious university such as Stanford, or any Ivy League school, you are not better than everybody else in the room like your cocky demeanor suggests. You’re just acting like that ripped guy who takes his shirt off for no reason during a pickup basketball game. Stop “academically-flexing” on everybody.

Sophomore Year

Intro to the First Conor’s Compliments

Every student down in Cleveland liked Christmas a lot, but The Conor, who lived in the newspaper room, did not. The Conor hated being nice and with that the whole Christmas season. Don’t ask me why, no one quite knows the reason. It could be perhaps that his backpack was ripped and drooped too far down his backside. It could be the fact his lazy eye wouldn’t allow him to focus his eyes just right. But I think the most likely reason for all of his sass, was that The Conor was simply a jack(censored). No broken water fountains, athletic director, or bad State Farm commercial was safe from the garlic in his soul. ‘Lo Boys wouldn’t even touch him with a 39 and a half foot pole. So whatever the reason, his backpack or his eyes, The Conor stood on the Eve of print day, ready to write down his whiny cries. Then a thought crossed The Conor’s mind that hadn’t before: maybe Cleveland isn’t all sour and sore, maybe Cleveland, perhaps, means a little bit more! What happened then, well at Cleveland they say, The Conor decided not to be a jack(censored), just for a day. So with his heart now changed to that of a giver, The Conor rode into Cleveland with grand compliments to deliver.


Senior Year, Complaint #52

#WinterFormal #FirstWorldProblems

Speaking of first world problems, Cleveland students felt they were wronged with a grave injustice when they figured out a Winter Formal dance would not be put on the schedule for a third year in a row. Some students felt the news was so oppressive that they decided to exercise their First Amendment right and organize a walkout to protest during second period on Sept. 19. Seriously, everybody? Let’s take a step back and gain some perspective. Right now in America there are major protests all over the country speaking out against the racial profiling and unnecessary violence towards African-Americans at the hands of police. Innocent people are being denied equality and losing their lives simply because of the color of their skin. Yet, with all these serious and legitimate demonstrations happening around the country for serious and legitimate reasons, we as Cleveland students want to pretend to be activists over a dance? That is just embarrassing. You guys sound like some whiny teenage girl from Bel Air who is crying that she got a BMW for her birthday instead of a Porsche. I understand the want for a Winter Formal. I understand the need to show administration that we are serious about that want. However, I just think there are other, slightly less dramatic ways to catch the administration’s attention than staging a walkout. Honestly, what did you think was going to happen? All 30 of you who participated–15 of whom just joined to get out of math class–would leave the building, walk around the school a few times, and Principal O’Neill would say, “All right, nice job everybody, you did it! This walkout did nothing whatsoever to present a solution to the problems that have plagued school dances in the past, but what the heck! Winter Formal’s back on!” That is not how things work people. If you want to get Winter Formal back, you have to show that as a student body, we will conduct ourselves responsibly. That means not showing up to the dance wasted. That means dancing (for the most part) in a respectable way. And that especially means not touching people without consent on the dance floor. I’m not trying to sound like a square, but until we fix those three issues, we will continue to not have Winter Formal. It really is that simple. You want to truly make a statement to the administration about why we should have Winter Formal back, change the culture of Homecoming this year. Have people actually ask dates to the dance, show up dressed semi-nicely, and yell at people who are taking their grinding to an unhealthy level. But nobody wants to do that, do they?

Senior Year, Complaint #53

Christmas Happens in December, Not July, Hallmark

If anybody tuned into the TV channel Hallmark during the month of July this summer–which I’m sure none of you did because who even watches Hallmark?–you might  have been confused when you saw Christmas movies playing. Did the channel’s programmer create the setlist for the day while tripping on hallucinogens and at the time not know what was up and what was down? Is Hallmark a channel based in a country geographically-located close to Australia, whose winter takes place in our summer? Both of these reasons would have made more sense than the real reason why Hallmark was playing holiday movies in July. It turns out it wasn’t a mistake. They were playing the movies on purpose for their traditional “Christmas in July” marathon. I’m sorry, but is anybody as outraged by that concept as I am? Christmas is a holiday that captures a lot of magic and spirit from the time of year and chilly weather it falls under. All of these factors combine to convey a certain feeling during the Christmas season that is unique and heartwarming. However, when you try to cross Christmas with an outdoorsy, hot season like summer, you mix up the wrong emotions resulting in that special feeling of Christmas losing its sparkle. Every season comes with its own atmosphere of feelings and moods. Summer and winter are as polar opposite as it can get. This is why Christmas movies and music should never be played during July. It holds the same effect as listening to “Friday I’m in Love” on a Monday. The scene of chestnuts roasting on an open fire does not sound too cozy when you’re sweating like Mr. Heat Miser and every fan in your house is blasting. And telling your date, “But, baby it’s hot outside” probably won’t stop her from departing in the slightest. So Hallmark, wait a couple more months before you start your obnoxious Christmas caroling. We live in a society, not Whoville.

P.S. Your regular programming is terrible, too. I would rather watch C-SPAN


Senior Year, Complaint # 62

Lazy Eye Awareness

Hello, my name is Conor Bergin, and I have lazy eyes. You heard me correctly, lazy eyes. Plural. For those of you who don’t know what that means, a lazy eye is a condition where one eye becomes unused and drifts out of alignment with the eye that is focused. For me, both eyes have the tendency to drift at different times, mostly when I am zoning out, so math class is a frequent lazy eye hotspot. Other times an eye will drift just because. Due to my lazy eyes, I am often subjected to puzzled looks and mockery from those around me. It is because of this poor treatment that I have decided to step forward with my condition and become an advocate for lazy eye awareness and those like me. In my experience, I have learned most people do not know the proper etiquette surrounding lazy eyes. Lazy-eyed people are often met with comments such as “What is going on with your eyes!?” or “Are you looking at me?” These are examples of what not to do. If you react like so, you are a poor person. The proper etiquette of the situation is to not acknowledge the lazy eye. Act casual, as if nothing has changed. Chances are my eye drifted just because and I am still intently engaged in your conversation. Yes, there is the small chance that I got bored and zoned out. The lazy eye largely gives away my “pretending-to-listen” poker face, one of the biggest downfalls of the condition. In this case, tell a better story. You might just see that eye slowly drift back into place. This message was paid for by the Northwest Eye Institute and viewers like you. Thank you.




Junior Year, Complaint #44

Junioritis? Is that a Thing?

Have you ever been lying on the couch watching TV while your inner monologue is just roasting you alive for not starting your homework yet? The whole show your mind is trying to send instructions down to your legs to start moving, but everything remains stationary, as if the message somehow got intercepted at your waist. “I’ll wait until this show ends. Ohhhh, but this next show is decent. It’s 6:56, I’ll get up at 7:00, I like round numbers. Whoops, it’s 7:06, I guess I’ll just wait until 7:30 now. Oh, but this Progressive commercial is interesting.” That is my mind working, all night. It is exhausting to be that lazy! I hate it! I’ve blown whole nights that I should’ve been studying, just debating inside my mind about when I should start studying. This certain behavior is an example of a condition I self-titled, “Junioritis.” It is basically the same exact thing as “Senioritis,” except you are much more of a weenie because you receive the condition one year premature. Junioritis comes in many forms of procrastination, not just “Full Couch Mode.” There is productive procrastination: One night I cleaned my bedroom, did the dishes, worked out, and walked the dog I don’t have all in order to avoid writing three paragraphs. And then there is the, “I-don’t-even-know procrastination”: An example of this would be the time I lost 30 minutes of my life pacing back-and-forth between my kitchen table and a mirror in my hallway. The funny part is people are so accepting of procrastination as an excuse for not getting things done. You know why I think that is? Because the actual word “procrastination” does not sound that bad. If you were to say out loud what you actually did with your day, you’d feel a lot worse about yourself. Look at these two sentences: “I didn’t study for my final because I procrastinated.” And “I didn’t study for my ultra-important, crucial-to-college final because I watched the ‘Damn, Daniel’ video for two hours and then played with my acne for another 30 minutes on top of that.” “Damn, Daniel” and the family photo albums you never look at anyway can wait. These are messages I have been trying to tell myself lately. I need to break free from Junioritis. I hope writing out these feelings can help me in my battle with this very serious condition. The Blazers may be on a hot streak. The Oscars might be on. But, don’t let that keep you from the mission. If you convinced yourself that you really wanted to see who won the Oscar for Best Foreign Documentary Short Subject, then you played yourself.



Sophomore Year, Complaint #4

Leave Hall Decs Up!

In honor of the recent Homecoming week, my first rant will be Homecoming-themed. Nothing shouts Homecoming spirit more than Cleveland Class Hall Decorations, the wonderful tradition at our school that NOBODY at our school sees! My freshman year, I heard about Hall Decs, and I was excited Friday morning to walk into school to see our halls magically transformed into the worlds of their selected themes. But when I arrived to school at 8:05 AM, everything was gone. They took away the balloons, the streamers, the movie props. All that was left were some scraps and some wire. My class’s theme was “Annie,” not “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” I didn’t know what the hell was going on! I found myself desperately searching for the last can of Who Hash hoping they didn’t take that, too. That was when somebody told me they take down the decorations every year before the school day starts. What is the point of that? Student volunteers pour a lot of hard work into Hall Decs. Their hard work and creativity should be recognized and appreciated by the whole student body, not just judges. I know the counter to this argument is “How would we use our lockers!?” But give me a break. Students can go one day without leaving their textbooks in lockers and stoners can use their alternate weed stash behind the bush. I spoke to seniors who have been at Cleveland their whole high school careers who never even saw Hall Decs. That is a problem. If we leave Hall Decs up for just a day, more people will sign up to participate in the tradition each year, students’ work will be recognized, and Homecoming spirit will be taken to another level. Game. Set. Match.8.


Junior Year, Compliment #7

Please Stay, Ms. K

Mrs. Khvilivitzky has built up a reputation over 39 years of teaching. She is known for keeping her classroom strict and business-like, always focused on the task at hand. After having her for my first two years of high school math, I quickly learned the stories were true. I still remember after my first test freshman year when she told the class how “very, very disappointed” in us she was. I thought she was kidding because almost everybody had earned As. She wasn’t. But her high standards soon brought out the best in me, especially because she was so willing to help me get there. She cared so much and put so much into the job, I felt like I had an obligation to not let her down. She constantly stressed how we could ask as many questions as we needed until we understood. And much to the annoyment of my classmates, I took her up on her offer. If I got a dollar for every math question I asked those two years I could have easily fixed PPS’s budget problems (What broken ceiling tiles?). Mrs. K remained patient through my questioning and sure enough I soon understood the probabilities and trigonometry that looked like a foreign language at first glance. While I quickly learned that Mrs. K was one of the best, most professional teachers the Cleveland community had to offer, I also learned something else: She might be as stern as a calculus course, but she is sweeter than pi. You will not find a lovelier lady to have a conversation with. Once I got to know her freshman year and experience her great classroom traditions such as “Russia Day” and her inspirational cat posters, I wasn’t nervous when I heard I would have her again sophomore year; I was ecstatic. All of these great qualities I just explained are why this retirement is such a bummer. Why do people even have to retire anyway? Now I know how the NBA felt when Michael Jordan retired. That is who Mrs. K is, the MJ of mathematics. “I wanna be like Khvilivitzky.” That slogan is a little bit more of a mouthful than “I wanna be like Mike,” but trust me, it will catch on. So Mrs. K, I am sad to know that I won’t be able to be in your class a third time, but I think it is safe to say after 39 years you deserve a break. I hope the ride wasn’t too “disappointing,” because you sure didn’t disappoint us.


Sophomore Year, Complaint #7

Flush the Toilet, Dude…Seriously

When I graduated from the prestigious Duniway Elementary School back in 2010, I walked down the cafeteria aisle to receive my fake diploma with one thought in mind, “Thank God I’m gonna go to an institution where people actually flush the toilet now.” Oh my fifth grade naivete. I had no idea that when I made it to the not-so-prestigious Sellwood Middle School, a place where everything is changing and awkward stages are undergoing, one thing that doesn’t change is preteens’ flushing habits. It was like my bathroom experience was on a constant replay. Walk into the room, open up the stall door and BLAM! Blindsided. Each time just as shocking as the last because you assure yourself, “this time it’s gonna be different,” but it never is. So as I received my fake middle school diploma, I had the same thought again, “I’m going to high school, things have to change now.” I think you know what happened next. High schoolers, if you can legally get behind the wheel of a car and DRIVE, putting people’s lives in your hands, you should possess the maturity to flush a freaking toilet. They should make it a question on the DMV test, “Do you flush your school toilet?” If the computer senses hesitation you fail. I mean ARE YOU SERIOUS!? I just don’t understand it. Do people think its funny or something? Now the stench is even worse than before. Whoever you non-flushers are, you literally make a trip into the boys’ bathroom the most thrilling moment of my day. I feel like Jack and Rose from Titanic when they are trying to escape the flooded bottom ship level as I try to get in and out before I die from holding my breath. Step into St. Mary’s bathroom, see the difference. This is why we can’t have nice things.



Junior Year, Complaint #43

That’s 364 Letters too Many, Gosling

I’m calling baloney on romantic dramas and rom/coms. Grade A baloney. Seriously, next time you are head over heels going “awwwwww!” at some romantic, grandioso gesture the guy does to win back the girl, take a step back and process what he is actually doing. Take “The Notebook” for example: Ryan Gosling writes Rachel McAdams a letter everyday for a year while he gets no response from her the whole time. What is wrong with you Ryan, you needy sap!? Move on buddy! That stuff isn’t romantic anymore, it’s just creepy and half-psychotic. You are trying to get a girl, not a restraining order. Also, what on earth did he talk about for 365 letters? I wish the movie let you know that, at least in a deleted scene or something. I can just imagine the evolution of the letters’ content. Letter 1: “My love for you blazes like the hot sun of my soul … .” Letter 22: “Hey, it’s the Ry-Dawg, getting a little bummed over here … .” Letter 225: “Hey, I’d like to apologize for cussing you out in the last letter, that wasn’t cool and that doesn’t reflect who I am as an individual … .” Letter 319: “I ate a tuna sandwich for lunch today. It was pretty average … .” In real life, a girl would move houses or call the police if she was bombarded with 365 letters. You know how Rachel McAdams responds? By giving Ryan Gosling the 2005 MTV Awards Best Kiss and then marrying him. You are both giving naive kids terrible dating advice. They need to take a Cleveland health class and get educated. And “The Notebook” isn’t the only movie that praises a character with stalker tendencies; look at the whole romance genre and you’ll find much of the same. I can’t believe I haven’t heard somebody mention this sooner. Am I the only one who has noticed? Sorry, I just put a major dent in the greatest love story of our generation, but somebody had to say it. Still though, with all of this being said, damn does Ryan Gosling make co-dependency look sexy. That is a difficult trick to pull off.



Senior Year, Complaint #55

Everybody’s Working for the Weekends

Well, we have arrived in November and it is safe say the start of the school year has officially ended. Teachers have stopped letting us play the name game or bingo mixers for half of class and exams and legitimate assignments have taken their place. Take a look and listen around you: A kid down the hall is cussing about something on his math test that “the teacher didn’t put on the study guide!” A girl to your left is frantically copying down her disciplined friend’s Spanish homework, and there’s a full I.B. student curled up against the wall in the fetal position muttering something about “the extended essay! Harvard! FUTURE!” Yup, the year is in full swing. Like Cleveland students at a homecoming dance, we are all getting our grind on, academically speaking, of course. It is during this time of the year that the student’s mindset of “I was getting kind of bored of summer, I’m actually sort of excited for the school year,” has already switched back to “O.K. this was nice while it lasted, how long until we’re done?” When that mindset kicks in, I always think of the 1981 rock song, “Working for the Weekend” by Loverboy. When the singer says, “Everybody’s working for the weekend,” he is referring to the fact that everybody works and stresses all week just so they can have a good time on the weekend. If you couldn’t tell by the line later on in the chorus, “Everybody’s going off the deep end,” this is not a good way to spend your life. Let’s do the math. If you are only living for two days out of the week, Friday and Saturday–we won’t count Sunday because the Sunday blues can be worse than Monday–that means you are only enjoying 29 percent of your life. That is a terrible percentage! That kid who was mad about the study guide for his math test got a 75 percent and he nearly had a mental breakdown. These are the only days we get, so we shouldn’t only be excited for two-sevenths of them. If Drake can go up at the club on a Tuesday, then you should be able to find some joy on a Tuesday, too. Throughout the week, look for little pleasures and plan to do fun things between the school work. Whatever you do, don’t bank all you’ve got on the weekend. Remember that movie you waited impatiently for all year that was just a big disappointment? Some weekends can turn out the same way. The school year can get challenging, but don’t fight against the wave–that will only make things harder. Instead, ride with the wave. In “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” what does Hermione say is the only way to break free from the suffocating Devil’s Snare? Just Relax! The same goes for school. Don’t panic and squirm like Ron. Just relax! Say it’s all right, have a good time, because it’s all right, no matter what day of the week it is. Consider this rule number one of Conor’s Declassified School Survival Guide: Don’t work for the weekends.


Senior Year, Complaint #60

Trump’s Food Analogy of America

In sixth grade social studies, while learning about immigration in America and the many nationalities that make up our country, I was told a wonderful narrative that warmed my heart: “America is like a big melting pot or salad bowl, where many different types of people come together as one.” However, after seeing President Trump’s racist and divisive campaign epitomized by the Muslim travel ban, I am convinced Trump’s administration and his supporters don’t believe in the nice salad bowl analogy. They would rather substitute in a different food analogy for race in America, say like trail mix: “We’ve got a lot of different pieces coming together, but you can just pick around the parts you don’t like.” Heck, with Betsy Devos as our new Secretary of Education, this backwards way of thinking might be implemented as new curriculum. You see to Trump, white people are like M&Ms, and similar to a whiny toddler, Trump has an irrational fear of cashews and peanuts. Nobody likes the guy who picks around the trail mix, Trump. Also, generally people who stoop to that level are under the age of six. So, it turns out you have more things in common with small children other than your maturity level and freakishly tiny baby hands. Grow up and eat your trail mix in handfuls like an adult. I think you’ll find the wide range of flavors together tastes really good.



Sophomore Year, Complaint #9

Just Say “No” to Ralph Lauren Polo

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but recently around the school, it has become a fad for senior guys to wear literally EVERYTHING Ralph Lauren. This cult of students answer to the title of ‘“Lo Boys” and are spreading their fashion style to lower grade levels. I once walked down the hall and saw a student wearing Ralph Lauren socks, shorts, polo, and a hat (you know who you are). Wow. I don’t think it would’ve been necessary to pull down his pants to figure out what underwear he had on. Hint: It wasn’t Hanes Comfort Fit. Can we stop this epidemic already. It is like our school is being invaded with trust fund, rich kid frat boys who reside in upscale Connecticut mansions with their best homie Billy Madison. For your information, ‘Lo Boys, anytime you see somebody with Ralph Lauren on, you don’t need to make an announcement about it. “Oh VERY nice Ralph Lauren shirt, I own 25 of the same kind.” Stop acting like you are entitled to the company or made it cool. A Ralph Lauren polo is a nice, overpriced shirt to wear. It is not a lifestyle. So get off your high horse and play croquet on your feet like a normal person. Boom roasted.


Junior Year, Complaint #46

Start up that Honda Odyssey and Vroom! Vroom! I’m Racing

Is it every high school girl’s dream to get picked up for a date by a 2004 Honda Odyssey minivan? Probably not. I’m pretty sure that is not the car those senior boys were driving in Taylor Swift’s hit song, “Fifteen,” that made her feel like flying.  Now, let me ask you this question though: Does that minivan get the driver from point  A to point B? You bet your bottom dollar it does, in fine speed matter-of-factly if you have Robert Bergin skills behind the wheel. So, all of the minivan haters out there who have hurled insults at my baby over the past few weeks can eat my dust and get a good look at my automated-opening doors as I pass them by. Minivan discrimination is a real thing and it is not something to be joked about. Minivans do matter. I think most tend to forget that, so let me help you out. Those automated-opening doors I mentioned earlier, were game-changers back in 2004. And the copious amount of seating space opens up many possibilities: Carpool the whole soccer team to the Saturday morning game or pick up your 21-year-old brother and ALL of his drunk friends at 2 a.m. like an all-star designated driver. Minivans prevent on average 16 drunk driving deaths each year. That stat was completely made up, but you get the picture. Above all else though, my car has something immeasurable compared to material things: Character. My mother raised a family with this car. Back in ‘06, I let a caramel apple rot in the backseat for three weeks before my mom found it. In ‘07, a first-grader threw up all over the fine, interior rug. Then, as time grew on, my mother passed down the keys to her eldest son, who passed it down to his younger brother, who then passed it down to me. Since the keys first switched hands, the car’s life expectancy has been cut in half. My brother drove the “man” van into a bike rack. I drove it into a pole. Nobody knows who caused the dent in the back. And who could forget the time the brakes stopped working as I drove full speed into a crowded intersection? In that one instant, turning left on red was legal. So the car has been through a lot. Just like an old, raggedy pair of hand-me-down mom jeans. And just so you know, my mom jeans could care less about what the world or a 15-year-old Taylor Swift thinks.



Senior Year, Complaint #59

Its 9 o’Clock on a Saturday…

Have you heard some people talk about adulthood? It makes me want to flip an hourglass upside down and move backwards. There is this common perception that making it into adulthood is like walking the plank. First, you start losing your friends! Then your dreams and career aspirations die! Then you get a job in middle management! Then pretty soon you die! If you don’t believe me that this perception is common, listen to the song “Piano Man” by Billy Joel. Basically he says life doesn’t work out for everybody the way they want and in response, they all become lonely alcoholics who can only be soothed by Billy’s smooth piano-playing. “They’re sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone.” Yeesh Billy, that is bleak! Is that what adulthood is all about? Is that all you get for your money? Momma, if that’s movin’ up, then I’m moving out! (I know most of my peers aren’t getting that last Billy Joel reference, but some middle-aged dad is going “a-ha!” right now). My point for bringing all of this up is that I don’t want to spend my adulthood wishing I am still in my youth or as if my dreams are being pushed toward the end of a plank. That is no way to approach life! I get it. Getting older isn’t always cool. Watch an episode from the second season of “Friends” and then watch an episode from the final season. Seeing all the actors wrinkle and age, or become slightly out-of-shape (Chandler) causes the show to lose a little of its luster. Also at that point you’re thinking, “How are you guys still hanging out at a coffee shop everyday? It’s just kind of weird now.” If that example didn’t have you sold, watch 1990s Adam Sandler movies and then look at 2017 Adam Sandler. Yikes. He’s not so charming anymore. So you get it now; growing older isn’t always cool. However, this narrative that entering adulthood is the start of the end of your life is over-dramatic. Tell nostalgia to shut up a little. Growing up includes a lot of amazing events and moments to look forward to and dreams don’t always have an expiration date (except for that elementary school dream I had to make it to the NBA. I don’t think that one’s going to pan out.). I do get that life doesn’t always work out and things change. There’s sadness in that. I also in no way think “Piano Man” is a bad song, like any white person, I think it rocks. My main point is we should not assume change or the passing of time is terrible. It can be incredible. Who knows though? Maybe I’m too naive to speak on this subject.