another week by ivy
So it's Sunday night when I should be reading all about Kohlberg and his theory of moral development but instead I am feeling sad, fat, and reflective. So I have decided to lie in my deliciously comfortable bed with my adorable Mac and write in a blog which, I have decided, is only marginally less productive than reading Kohlberg and preparing my presentation.
Last night I got belligerent. (For all of you who do not attend C-O-L-L-E-G-E COLLEGE, "belligerent" means wasted to the point of well, beligerence). I danced like Elaine from Seinfeld in a bar, I imparted secret information to strangers, I decided everyone I saw that I may or may not have vaguely known was my new best friend. And, in my classiest of moves, I wandered around a party holding a full handle of vodka. Now I wonder why I'm feeling like a beached whale. I don't know where such behavior comes from. I have never gotten so belligerent before, but now I find it is happening much more often, not just to me but my friends as well. I have already rejected the 'late bloomer' theory. I might be insecure enough to only just catch onto the whole heavy drinking thing my senior year in college, but I doubt everyone I know has the same level of insecurity. Anyway, I tend to be drawn to strong people who can make the decisions for me when I am waffling.
Take my roommate of two years, for example. Let's call her Muffy. She is a classic rules girl. Preppy, smart, pretty, rich, friendly, sweet. People fall in love with her right away. She has never succuumbed to the ivy league anorexia that tends to plague attractive perfectionists. She knows exactly what she likes and wants and exactly who her friends are, and that is it. She is always nice but she dosen't bother with much else. Anyway, last night she got belligerent too. So much so that she vomited in her boyfriend's room and decided to sleep on the kitchen floor. Of course, as she has this magnetic hold over boys, he is so in love with her that he slept right there with her, but that's not the point. What is going on here? Muffy is the essence of class. I think the thing is that everyone is scared of "next year" so we are all dumbing ourselves down to live out the rest of college in ignorant, drunken bliss. Maybe we are afraid that we'll never again get an excuse to wake up at 12pm and with a massive hangover curable only by a disgustingly greasy egg and cheese sandwich and we had better use this get-out-of-jail-free card ASAP. Where else will you get ridiculous stories to tell at the watercooler in a gray, florescent-lit office?
Last night I got belligerent. (For all of you who do not attend C-O-L-L-E-G-E COLLEGE, "belligerent" means wasted to the point of well, beligerence). I danced like Elaine from Seinfeld in a bar, I imparted secret information to strangers, I decided everyone I saw that I may or may not have vaguely known was my new best friend. And, in my classiest of moves, I wandered around a party holding a full handle of vodka. Now I wonder why I'm feeling like a beached whale. I don't know where such behavior comes from. I have never gotten so belligerent before, but now I find it is happening much more often, not just to me but my friends as well. I have already rejected the 'late bloomer' theory. I might be insecure enough to only just catch onto the whole heavy drinking thing my senior year in college, but I doubt everyone I know has the same level of insecurity. Anyway, I tend to be drawn to strong people who can make the decisions for me when I am waffling.
Take my roommate of two years, for example. Let's call her Muffy. She is a classic rules girl. Preppy, smart, pretty, rich, friendly, sweet. People fall in love with her right away. She has never succuumbed to the ivy league anorexia that tends to plague attractive perfectionists. She knows exactly what she likes and wants and exactly who her friends are, and that is it. She is always nice but she dosen't bother with much else. Anyway, last night she got belligerent too. So much so that she vomited in her boyfriend's room and decided to sleep on the kitchen floor. Of course, as she has this magnetic hold over boys, he is so in love with her that he slept right there with her, but that's not the point. What is going on here? Muffy is the essence of class. I think the thing is that everyone is scared of "next year" so we are all dumbing ourselves down to live out the rest of college in ignorant, drunken bliss. Maybe we are afraid that we'll never again get an excuse to wake up at 12pm and with a massive hangover curable only by a disgustingly greasy egg and cheese sandwich and we had better use this get-out-of-jail-free card ASAP. Where else will you get ridiculous stories to tell at the watercooler in a gray, florescent-lit office?
Labels: college
posted by gold&1vy at 8:11 PM
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