My legions of stalkers, super fans and acolytes may have noticed that “Sketch” has been missing for a month. This is because, in the paper that publishes anything (including regular nonsense from that sketchy grad student), I managed to be inappropriate.

Perhaps inappropriate isn’t quite the right word. I wrote on a topic of considerable interest to all of us (and one regularly mentioned by The Daily), but I took a position outside the mainstream and sneeringly dismissed my imaginary opponents.

My lovely editors (seriously, they’re both adorable) weren’t as impressed with my magnum opus as I was and, right or wrong, they kicked it to the curb. They argued, among many other things, that when presenting complex and sensitive subjects, airing multiple sides to a debate is essential — if one is going to offer an opinion on a serious issue, one has an obligation to explain exactly why one is wrong.

Still, as my frustration subsided, I realized a couple of things. First off, maybe they were right — censorship and all that is an involved subject (perhaps even one for future contemplation) and the passing of judgment is not necessarily always unacceptable.

Secondly, as I reread my prose, it occurred to me that the appropriateness of opinions was rich and fertile ground for me the ramble on for a few hundred words without causing a flutter. This is lucky, since the only things on my mind right now aren’t really fit for non-physicist (i.e. human) consumption.

I was going to write that as you get older, opinions become less diverse, but after a little thought, I’m not really sure that’s true. Opinions certainly become more rigid (there’s a great deal of truth in that old chestnut about broad minds, narrow waists and their middle age exchange), but they preserve much of their spread.

No, I think a more accurate observation is that the center becomes much more sharply defined. On any given issue there is a conventional point of view (or a couple of them) and then there are the lunatic fringes.

Now, whilst there are advantages to this — it’s much more efficient to find a compromise if you ignore most of the ideas — I find it rather depressing. If it’s a sign of maturity to close one’s mind, then perhaps maturity is a little oversold as a virtue.

And, of course, those that place a premium on conventional thinking have precisely the opposite reaction to the unconventional thinking so prevalent amongst the young. They mock. They denigrate. And they sneer.

There’s even word for it. They take a label for your status, and change it into a put-down, an insult.

It’s a delicious word. Loaded with contempt, a sneer built in and a warm feeling of superiority that suffuses through your body as you whisper it in your mind. Sophomoric. Ah, there’s nothing quite like looking down...

Given an opportunity, we like to peer at the hoi polloi from lofty heights and to savor our exalted status. Even when we don’t believe in our own supremacy and determinedly insist we’re just like everyone else, our generosity of spirit is an illusion — we rise above the petty fray in order to look down upon it.

I hesitate to make broad generalizations (which is unusual for me, I know), but I think there is a large section of the graduate student population that fervently believes in the immaturity (and consequent inferiority) of undergraduates.

Now, since I’m often guilty of this myself, let me not condemn such superciliousness out of hand. I mean we don’t think less of the undergraduate population as people, just of their minds. What’s more, it’s true. Maturity in the modern world is being pushed back later and later, it’s not surprising that 27 can find you considerably more thoughtful than 18.

On the other hand, I’ve been on both sides of this particular divide. My opinions at 18 were absolutely, incontrovertibly correct and even though they’ve now changed vastly (but are, of course, still absolutely, incontrovertibly correct), I miss the flexibility of my youthful mind.

Plus, there’s no smooth transition. I’ve thought stupid things that I would now dismiss as ridiculously childish as recently as yesterday afternoon. Given that, how do we know when this nirvana of mature thought is reached?

As much as I enjoy mocking the perceived idiocy of youth, I admire a great deal more. Smiling indulgently at childish thoughts, laughing at the earnest belief that one can shape the world, mocking gently (or otherwise) the notion that one can be truly different are all deeply satisfying activities. But ultimately, they leave me hollow.

I enjoy viewing myself as a wise old man (and, yes, I know that’s ridiculous) dispensing wisdom on how the world works, gently correcting the foolish misconceptions of youth and all that. However, that’s not entirely reasonable.

Perhaps, rather than telling you what to think, more useful advice would be to embrace your sophomoric tendencies firmly while you have the chance. Hold obnoxious, absurd opinions and defend them and your right to hold them. Point out to those who would sneer that twisted lips are not an argument, nor is repetition of the word “obvious”.

There are many great things about getting older (well, actually, there are none, but there could be), but the closing of one’s mind is not one of them. Even if you give up the casual sex, the daytime drinking and the recreational drugs, try not to leap at the label of maturity too quickly.

Thoughts? Write them in essay form (four pages, double-spaced, size 12) and send them to navins@stanford.

edu.