We miss you, Tele-BEARS. We even miss those three-way trysts with AirBears2. We’re so sorry we left you in the dust for a total jerk who does nothing for us. CalCentral just does not compare — he’s mysterious like you but he doesn’t reveal everything. Where’s the final exam schedule? How do we know we’re on the right path? What are we, CalCentral? CalCentral is like an ugly hookup that we can’t stop linking up with, but you did it better, Tele-BEARS.
UC Berkeley has one of the best computer science departments in the nation, yet the new system looks like a group of middle school developers threw it together in five days. They were probably all 12 years old too. Not a lot of good things happen at the ripe age of 12. Playing MarioKart in our underwear as we ate dinosaur chicken nuggets during summer break of seventh grade were activities we participated in far before our peak. Most middle schoolers can’t even shower properly. Hell, most nonmiddle schoolers can’t either. We could have designed a more efficient system with Microsoft Paint. Tele-BEARS, we had a good thing going. We don’t know what we were thinking.
The world here at UC Berkeley is moving too fast and big changes are taking place. You left us, Ramona’s is closed, “Mmmmmmmmmmm doe snot” happened and the results of a torturous ASUC election cycle that would make your mother cry are now here. Tele-BEARS, we realize that we need you. You’re our only hope. With you, life was more like a romantic comedy in which two lovers finally realize they can’t live without the other, despite sometimes hating each other.
Understanding this new system is analogous to trying to decipher the symbols that some punk kids drew with a wooden plank out in a corn field. Both are equally confusing. The new system just doesn’t compare and … we just need you back in our lives, Tele-BEARS.
We’re sorry for the things we said and we know we can’t reverse time. Even though sometimes it felt like we could revisit the past because being with you often felt like we were with some relic from a forgotten past. That’s a compliment, really. We now realize that this new system is not even fit enough to be described as a discount version of you.
Don’t you remember all the great times we had together? Remember when we first met and we tried to add a class without an adviser code and you said “You shall not pass … unless you give me those digits.” Your “Lord of the Rings” pick up lines were intoxicating. Don’t you remember? No? Oh, you’re offline, OK…
Please reconsider. We miss you and one does not simply stop loving you.
Contact Karina Pauletti at [email protected].