The Lost Art Of Rationing The Shout-Out

"Why don't I get a holler? Am I not good enough? That's blowed up!"

That's how the weekly dialogue would go, but I would not give that up for anything. It was well worth any hassle from those who thought they were ignored to be able to spell my thoughts out on to the pages of one of the finest student newspapers in the nation. I enjoyed throwing out my thoughts and have to thank my editor and The Daily Tar Heel for giving me this opportunity. I know it's corny, but I got to give them their due props.

Besides everyone asking for shout outs people would ask, "How d o you decide what you are writing about? What are you writing about this week?"

One of my favorite comics of all time is the great Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson, and I remember my favorite clip from it. This sums up how I go about attacking my 750 word gap:

Hobbes: Do you have an idea for your story yet?

Calvin: No, I'm waiting for inspiration. You can't just turn on creativity like a faucet. You have to be in the right mood.

Hobbes: What mood is that?

Calvin: Last-minute panic.

Of course I tried my best to not do that every week, but inevitably it ended up occurring once or twice (sure, just twice). I feel like I just started this gig, and it's over. There were a number of major issues that I would have loved to have talked about and even more petty stuff that would have made for wonderful rants. Alas, time and space limited me. The book's coming after I finish the outline for the Great American Novel. Adie Cush, when are we going to write it?

But one thing I couldn't forget in the end is the shout-outs.

In no particular order, these people had an influence on the "This Side of Paradise" content in some ways, some more than others. I just wanna holler at some peeps.

My parents are wonderful for allowing me to attend this out-of-state university at their always-increasing expenses. When I walk around campus there is nowhere else I would rather be. I thank them for letting me be here and doing everything they could to help get me here. My baby sis is great, and if you ever get a chance to see a Lenoir-Rhyne College volleyball game, cheer her on. She's got nasty game.

Roommates: Keever is going to be as big as Spielberg one day. Befriend him now. Blane is the very definition of ghetto fabulous but also hilarious. Paul is on the crew team (jokes reserved). He's dedicated but subject to a good laugh about once a day.

Pardon the interruption, but he's Sherrell McMillian. Rell truly is the next Michael Wilbon. Get used to that line. My only advice is to never answer a question in less than one line. Be opinionated and loud.

Saha, you know how to analyze the best or worst of anything. Profundity is your thing. There may be no more TFS, Elizabeth Ball or Maddy Curley, but you will always have cankles, a theory you stole from some guy in 1938 and three roommates.

Wingwomen, how could I let you go without proper praising? What would I do without you throwing ideas at me about girls and everything else under the sun?

I would hate to see such a cruel world. Meeting the UNIT and you two made my summer. Gena, you are precious, tiny in a good sense and have an infectiously great smile and laugh. Lindsay, you are smart, deep and wonderfully spastic. I feel the jealously of other guys when I'm chillin' with the wingwomen. You are definitely presentable after all.

Brad Sain is a hustler in golf. Markman is a "Jew-ru" master of recruiting. Kristy and Carla sold out to be in Winston-Salem. Has anyone seen Drew Matthews? Did three-fingered Darryl get a bigger ego in NYC? Jay McKinnon is transferring to WHERE? Meredith went to St. Louis for "her summer job." Reynolds and Brent B. sold out on second session. Props to everyone in CAA from Kris to Beth Lyn. Virginia loves the Pump, Forsythe (Fever god) has no game and gosh, I miss Jessie.

I would like to thank "volleyball girl" for sitting in the quad and making my walk to class more pleasant first session. Sara Randolph is the next Mia, terrific to be around and elusive. And anyone else I missed, I'm sorry.

Peace, I'm out! E-mail me at tompkins@email.unc.edu.