I used the word mélange

College life doesn’t really seem like a whole new world. Rather, it seems like a large mélange of worlds I already know – namely, the OC, Everwood, and Days of Our Lives. I guess it’s true that life imitates art, but it’s more accurate to say that life imitates shitty dramas.
Within days of starting orientation, several of my hallmates had been sexiled. My roommate (as well as most of the hall) went out drinking and partying. In retrospect, I really should not have been surprised. Most high school kids do it anyway; why would college kids have any hesitations? It still came as a shock.
Coupled with all that, I’ve been hearing the word “adult” bandied about rather frivolously lately. “We’ll settle this as adults.” “Come on, now, we’re all adults here.” I looked around after I heard the second one and thought, No, we’re not. Look at us. Do you really think we are adults? I really have a hard time accepting the fact.. no, the possible idea of being an adult. What makes me an adult? What has changed about me that I am no longer the child I’ve been all my life? Is it the alcohol and sex? If that’s the case, then I’m not an adult. And, if that is the case, do I even want to be an adult now? The capricious drunkenness and hook ups seem less than desirable to me; fun doesn’t need to be something I can’t remember the next morning, and sex shouldn’t be with someone I don’t love, much less barely even know. All in all, it doesn’t sound very mature. I have a sense that I sort of skipped that phase of my life, and I can see that they’re not good decisions. In that way, I think I am more adult, but it doesn’t seem to be right. I still consider myself very much a child.

Basically, I feel less mature than, say… a three-year-old, but more mature than, oh.. a high school student. That sounds about right.

I'm On To You, Maytag. You Too, Coca-Cola

I inadvertently came upon the biggest scam ever in the history of corporate America. I came into the laundry room on the first floor to get a few particularly soiled items cleaned (The mixture of clothes, Sprite, and mud made me second guess my laundering abilities and made me call my mom to double check and make sure it wouldn’t become a caffeine-free, soggy mess). After loading the washer, I turned around to discover a soda machine. I was fully aware that this was product-placement. Nowhere else on campus will one find students with that much change as in the laundry room. Rather than fight The Man, I applauded him for his business skills and bought a Cherry Coke. The bottle popped out, and as I turned around and twisted the cap out, the soda burst forth from its container and on to the counter and INTO THE WASHING MACHINE. I flipped when I realized the vicious cycle – Laundry begat soda, and soda begat laundry. Thankfully, not enough soda crept in to make me start over the wash.. this time. Next time, the full twenty ounces could make its way into my washer, or worse, the clothes I’m wearing. Having learned my lesson, I finished my coke in my room. I’m still doing laundry at the moment and I just bought another Cherry Coke. I’m such a fucking pawn.

Convoked

It’s hard to say exactly when the next chapter of my life began. I could have chosen move-in day. A new city, a new school, and a whole slew of new friends I have to get used to provided the perfect scenario for a new chapter. But where did my last chapter end? It might have been the day I left Roanoke for Williamsburg, but I wasn’t in Roanoke much to begin with that summer. It would be more appropriate to mark the end of a chapter with graduation, as I left friends and high school life forever. That day, however, didn’t mark any real beginnings. As much as it exasperates me to hear this from others, I’m going through many transitions right now. The other day, Lenore asked me what life was like without the mother or brother around. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t have an opinion. I think it has gotten to the point where transition is normal, and stagnation is what would startle me. I may have gone through several chapters between graduation and move-in day.

So, indeed, why did I choose convocation as the chapter with which to begin this particular blog? The obvious answer, of course, is that convocation presents a concrete ceremony that solidifies my status as a College Student©. The act of walking through the Wren portico was so symbolic that….

Okay. I simply put off doing the blog until now. That’s the only reason I’ve got. There – I’ve admitted it. To tell the truth, it’s a wonder I’ve begun anything at all. Now that I have, though, I intend to keep it going. I might write about a shitty/wonderful day, why I think my teacher/TA/roommate is a dickhead/hero(ine), or my position on cloning (not sure)/ politics (not Bush)/the use of parentheses and slashes to indicate options and additional information (I’m for it).

I didn’t say it’d be interesting…. Ugh. That’s such a cliché. Fine. It’ll be interesting. I hope you’re entertained, because I certainly will be.