Nnekay.com

UC Santa Cruz is a Hippie Mill.

You may have thought little Johnny was a clean cut over achiever when you dropped him off on the first day of school, but by time winter break rolls around, he’ll show up with patchwork pants, matted hair, and smelling like stank ass. Since everyone at some point becomes semi- quasi hippified while attending UCSC, little hippie off shoots begin to form.

Bro- Hippie = I’m gonna wear my hat backwards and shotgun beers, yet I’ll be sporting a little hemp beaded necklace while doing it.

Slut-Hippie = I don’t wear make up or shave, yet my earthy smells and noodle dance get me laid at every party.

Hippie-Douche = I’m the one who does the weird shaky leg dance in the middle of the drum circle. I’m gonna touch you a lot, and when ever I can take my shirt off, I will.

Rasta- Hippie = I only have the Bob Marley Legends CD, yet I feel it’s necessary to attach beads and garbage to my dreads, say “irie” in an phony accent, smoke spliffs, and walk around with a giant stick I found outside of the dinning hall. Oh yeah, did I mention, I’m a red-headed Irish kid from Michigan?

Peruvian-Hippie = I love pronouncing all Spanish words such as, “horchata” with their true accents. I wear multicolored wool pull overs with matching hats that usually come to a point or have ear flaps. I’m currently studying how to play the wooden box in my Latin American singing group, Voces.

Slam-Hippie = All hippies create, but my poetry is deep, and vaguely ethnic. I like to carry a note pad, so I can jot down all the daily injustices I witness around me. Secretly I’m doing this to win my ex back.

Militant-Hippie = Meat is murder! Free Mumia! Save the Cave Frogs! You got a cause? I’m there! I’m gonna give you a speech while wearing my Fidel Castro hat. Almost cry to give effect, then sleep with the leader of which ever cause I’m fighting for today.

Druggie-hippie = I’m the one in the back of the room that always goes too far. If there is silence, I’m gonna breaks it with my slow giggle, and when you try to talk to me, I promise I will not make any sense.

Dealer-Hippie = You need some weed? I got you. I should have been a chemistry major, because I actually find measuring, calculating, and the whole process of drug paraphernalia extremely interesting, and I’m gonna bore you with all that talk while I get you high.

 Spoiled-Hippie = I’m secretly loaded… who am I kidding? This applied to all Hippies.

I wasn’t always a grumpy 20 something, griping about the woes of the world.

Nope. I was once a fresh faced young adult venturing into the training wheels of the “real world” or better known as college. Was I an activist on campus protesting about all the inequalities that minorities face on a daily basis… not really… Did I spend all nighters discussing the wise words of modern theorist… not intentionally. Did I wear all black, recite poetry, and consume copious amounts of coffee while strategizing about government take overs? No. I went to UC Santa Cruz and I pretty much drank and smoked pot the whole time. Yeah, probably when I was high, I would go on tirades concerning the plight of the modern black woman. I’m sure when I was drunk, I managed to recite something that could have passed as feminist poetry- but honestly, I was a nerd, and will always be a nerd meaning a normal routine would involve: do my homework, smoke some pot, watch Saved By the Bell reruns, eat a whole box of cookies, then happily go to sleep.

Wow, Nnekay… really saving the world. 

Do I regret not being more active during my college years? Yes and no… now, if I felt that I could truly make some smidge of a difference, spread some awareness- I probably would have at least attempted to create a poster or something. Yet, I attended UC Santa Cruz- bleeding heart capital of the United States… those of you whole still believe UC Berkeley is the hippie central of the world, well, you haven’t visited Berkeley aka Douchebag Commons recently, have you?

UCSC was developed during the 1960s, when Cal had raised it’s unashamed freak flag in protest to all the serious concerns at the time. As a response to all the student uproars occurring on the Berkeley campus, UCSC was deliberately decentralized… no plazas, no halls, no places to gather and create a ruckus. Also the initial contract stated that builders could not build above the beautiful redwoods. This combination created a weird mystical woody setting. You know, when you read some dweebus fantasy novel (say Lord of the Rings) and before you even start there is this wack-a-doo map plotting all the fanciful lands you’ll visit during your quest through your nerdy imagination? Yea… UCSC is sorta like that.

Turn left at the moss covered brook and you will find the Theater Department. Ohhhhh, climb over a fallen oak, cross the wooded path, and behind the thick shrubs a Bookstore will be before you!!

Since the campus was smack in the middle of a full functioning forest, I would see deer, raccoons, quails, and yes, banana slugs on a daily basis. The deer were fun at first, but after a year of them wandering around, you being to notice how mangy and boring they actually were.

The animals, the forest, and the lack of centrality is a dangerous combination for the 18-24 sect. As soon as you attempt to go to class, you ‘ll quickly learn that high heels or any type of fancy shoe will never make an appearance on your feet again. Being surrounded by nature always infuses a little granola crunch into everyone, even the most cynical urbanite. Since there is no main gathering spot on campus, you find your little niche group… but because your a curious horny co-ed each new encounter (for instance by a rotted tree stump on your way to BioChem) is a wonderful experience. Live like this for a month, and while you’re enjoying a harmless drum circle on the coast, it will dawn on you… HOLY FUCK, I’M A HIPPIE.

But not just any type of hippie. A “do nothing” hippie. Not that I’m going to blame the design of UCSC on my non activist ways… but honestly I think the decentralization of the campus kind of worked. There is no spot on campus everyone must pass through, meaning 14 different protest could be occurring at the same time on campus, and you could possible avoid every one… which actually seemed to be the case most the time. If you wanted to protest, you almost had to advertise for it, “hey animal rights protest at the quarry at 11 am.” Yet, since everyone was high it usually ended up like this,

“Did you go to the animal rights protest?”

“Nah, I got blazed on Tree 9, then saw Carly who had some brownies, then we went to the beach and fell asleep.”

Now, if they had passed by the Rally on the way to Tree 9 to get high… maybe they would have stopped for a bit to check it out. Who knows…

 Honestly, I have no real ending to this tale of UCSC, I suppose it’s just a little introduction to the many stories I wish to share about my fabulous and weird time I spent in Santa Cruz. They’ll come sporadically, but I’m sure they’ll be at least a little more cohesive and a lot more entertaining.