CLASS OF 2000: Dave Goldman

Living on the 'edge'Living on the 'edge'"I hate drugs. That's the first the foremost thing in my life." I'm an exhibitionist," confesses Dave Goldman, his intense blue eyes concentrating on the strings of his new guitar. He squints, strums a few chords and unfolds a scribbled page of lyrics. "The day I was born, my father found a guitar on the road, so?," Dave says by way of introduction. "I wrote this one myself." He launches into an acoustic ballad about love and betrayal. In the hallway outside of Dave's Quad dorm room (hidden in a short corridor between Speakman and Bodine), two girls walk by, giggling. Adjusting his white Nike headband, he winces at their laughter. Though Dave says he appreciates his isolated room, he contends the "housing officials" read the essay with his application and deliberately exiled him. The essay described his straight-edge lifestyle -- free of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, meat and medicine. "I hate drugs. That's the first and foremost thing in my life," he announces. "I would die for my straight edge. "I did try drugs once. I didn't have a bad experience or anything. I just hate them and anyone who does them. Never, not once did I get high. I got drunk once with my brother. I hated that -- never do it again in my life. "I used to think, 'Everyone else can't be wrong.' But now I know I'm right," Dave says. "When people are drinking and making a fool of themselves, sometimes I just tell them to shut up. I yell at them. Someday, I hope for a world in a state of total consciousness." "Some people used to say, 'Let's put the violence back in straight edge.' I'm pretty tolerant, though." Still, in no way can the 19-year-old Trumbull, Conn., native be characterized as reserved. His gregarious personality, two nipple rings and tribal tattoo across his back (no novocaine!) speak volumes. Yet nothing has helped Dave find a comfortable niche among his peers in the freshman class. "There are no cool people in the class of 2000. First semester, I was miserable," he says, admitting that Penn was his last choice college -- well behind first-place Brown. But with his brother now a senior at Penn, the final decision was not difficult. "I've been looking into transferring to Harvard, even though I'm not optimistic about my chances. But this semester I've made a lot of friends in Philly. It's getting better." Senior class president in high school, Dave admits the transition to college has been rough. His father, who disapproves of the tattoo, stopped speaking to his son at the end of last year, offering only "We're proud of your accomplishments" at graduation. "What shit!" Dave rages, but concedes he has learned several valuable lessons from his father. "My dad taught me that if it can be fixed by money, then it's not a problem," he says without hesitation. "Plenty of [Penn] students will be happy to make a million dollars. I don't care about money, though. I want to do something that makes me happy." Until last year, choosing a career still seemed far off. More recently, he has begun to think more seriously about his post-graduation plans. "My mom sent me to a psychologist in high school. She thought I was doing stuff just to make her and my dad angry. I did stupid shit in high school," he explains, admitting to shoplifting among other vices. "Anyway, [the psychologist and I] just sat down and talked. That's the stuff dreams are made of." Dave, a Psychology major, has decided to specialize in social psych -- "You know, I hope I can help some kid, like as a family counselor. I don't want to preach to him, cause they tell you not to, but I want to slowly, slowly, slowly get inside his mind." "It seems like the easy way out, though. Maybe I should be a doctor. Maybe I could find the cure for AIDS. I want to be the smartest man in the world." But he stresses that, in his opinion, knowledge cannot be measured by grades or tests. "Intelligence is not an A on a paper, though a lot of people here seem to think it is. I have drawers full of notebooks. You never know when you'll need it. Never throw away knowledge." The papers spilled across his desk and a white candle melted onto its formica-topped surface reinforce his words. Otherwise, Dave's dorm room is sparsely decorated, a dirt bike leaning up against the wall and a few posters of hardcore music bands -- "That's what really gets me high." "One time I went to a hardcore concert, and I saw a guy dancing. It was the best thing," he says. "He had the biggest smile on his face that I've ever seen in my life. I wanted to feel like that. People here need other shit to feel that good." Among his other complaints about Penn students is their focus on separatism. "One time a girl in one of my classes asked me if I wanted to go to this lecture on black culture," he remembers. "I was so angry. I don't want to know somebody in terms of a certain classification. I have no interest in learning about black culture. I just want to know about you." That animosity also extends to religious divisions. "Every war has had religious undertones," he says. "How many people have to die? If there could be one religion then maybe I could believe. All's it does is separate. "I had a Bar Mitzvah, and that was great cause I made a lot of money. When I'm a father, I'm going to have 'Happy Day.' None of the Hanukkah, Christmas stuff. I don't want that." And what does the future have in store? "I'm real excited. The year 2000 it's the start of something new," Dave says without pretense. "I guess my best advice is not to listen to anybody -- especially me. Everyone has to answer to their own lives." n

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