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Houstonian 1987
The Closing
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Students of the University of Houston. Houstonian 1987 - The Closing. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. July 23, 2014. http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/yearb/item/25027/show/24963.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

Students of the University of Houston. Houstonian 1987 - The Closing. Houstonian Yearbook Collection. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. Retrieved from http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/yearb/item/25027/show/24963

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

Students of the University of Houston, Houstonian 1987 - The Closing, Houstonian Yearbook Collection, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries, accessed July 23, 2014, http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/yearb/item/25027/show/24963.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

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Compound Item Description
Title Houstonian 1987
Creator (LCNAF)
  • Students of the University of Houston
Caption The Houstonian is the official yearbook of the University of Houston.
Subject.Name (LCNAF)
  • University of Houston
Language English
Format (IMT)
  • image/jpeg
Digital Collection Houstonian Yearbook Collection
Digital Collection URL http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/yearb
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Repository URL http://info.lib.uh.edu/about/campus-libraries-collections/special-collections
Use and Reproduction This image is in the public domain and may be used freely. If publishing in print, electronically, or on a website, please use the citation button above. To request higher resolution images, please use the Request High Res button above.
File name index.cpd
Item Description
Title The Closing
Creator (LCNAF)
  • Students of the University of Houston
Caption The Houstonian is the official yearbook of the University of Houston.
Subject.Name (LCNAF)
  • University of Houston
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Use and Reproduction This image is in the public domain and may be used freely. If publishing in print, electronically, or on a website, please use the citation button above. To request higher resolution images, please use the Request High Res button above.
File name yearb_1987_335.jpg
Transcript What a nightmare — waking and realizing that I only have e day to complete the Year- ok. And, finding out that I >uld have to go through a ies of dungeons and fight tgons to get there (I compare :o a ridiculous game because >st of the obstacles seem to lengthy and pointless). And lat's worse is that being the iitor seems to mean being me in all of these trials. Upon falling asleep: Every nute of this twenty-four hour urney was a day long, but eryday passed by in seconds, me was speeding and I was >ing from room to room fran- ally searching for the way it. The cavernous rooms were .e dungeons. I stumbled out the blackness of a long hall- ty into the largest room, lere were dim lights, echoing, d people all sitting around a ng wooden table. They ap- ared to be holding a meeting, it they were all staring off in fferent directions as if they Jre each looking for the way it. Noticing that the main •orway, with light seeping in )und it, was blocked by toped stones, I began to make ggestions about how we uld work to remove the ob- acles and be free from this emature casket. But as each -rson faced the tasks which ould be before them in order > accomplish this freedom, iey began to pour gobblets of e, get drunk and fall asleep, a the light disappeared behind ie door, I was on the road to owhere. So I continued to run. Oc- assionaily a hallway would lead me in the worst possible direction. I ran up against committees of hinchmen and dead ends with scripts on the walls so baffling that they could only serve the purpose of bureaucracy. There were dragons in pits with screeming sirens and intense flames, but ineffective. I fell into one of the traps, being dragged to my knees. Before an alter I was told by a man without a face that I would be haunted until my journey was complete. I had met with a poltergeist that followed me, repeatedly stabbing me in the heart. A part of me was gone forever. The faster I ran blindly through the tunnels, the more loud and boisterous voices kept saying, "Are you there yet? Are you there yet? Are you there yet?". They were laughing and pushing me in a direction I didn't want to go, into a lounge crowded with only six people. They were all speaking, but no one was listening. They were lifeless with insects crawling all over them. I turned and ran in the opposite direction, bloodied from not seeing the obstacles in front of me. I found myself back in the largest room, the people still asleep on the long table, all dreaming but accomplishing nothing, and failing to take notice of the crumbling walls. Spineless configurations had followed me, babbling, with insects crawling from their eye sockets. My heart racing with fear and bleeding from its wounds, I kept calling to the people between gasps for air. But they were all too concerned with themselves to take notice ~X! of their fate. They stared at the emptiness relentlessly with glassy eyes, expecting. The door finally splintered open under the tremendous burden of the cold stone walls, but the light by now had vanished. Behind it was just one more dark path that only leads back into the same dreams. Upon waking to face reality: I know now that I can never have sympathy for people who are tired or bored, when they talk of bold ideas. And settling for mediocrity is a shameful act to follow, but whether it be a large institution or a few individuals, determination and dedication is generally lacking. From my experiences I've learned that those who don't do enough will gladly accept the most credit, whereas, those who worked the hardest will usually feel they didn't do enough. Mark Lacy Editor, The Houstonian 337