--Go willingly to a football game
--Spend lots of time hanging out with people outside my little social group
--Wear a lot of makeup
--Eat reasonable portions at reasonable times
--Hang out with a football player from my high school class
--Smoke a hookah
Now let's make a list of what I've been doing since I last blogged.
--Went willingly to a football game
--Spent lots of time hanging out with people outside my little social group
--Worn a lot of makeup
--Eaten reasonable portions at reasonable times
--Hung out with a football player from my high school class
--Smoked a hookah
The entire campus turned into football mania on Saturday, to an intimidating degree. Hardly a soul was seen not wearing green and white, thousands of teenagers and twenty-somethings all funneled down the street in giggling gaggles, people stood on balconies and shouted at those below. It took me a bit to come around to the idea, so while I was hiding in my room mentally preparing myself, everyone else on my floor left. I ended up calling my sister and standing uncomfortably in the crowded stadium with her friends for half the game, hanging out in their apartment for an hour or two, and then heading back to my dorm. Roomie and I watched The Soup together in our beds and fell asleep early. It turns out that football and I still don't really get along, but I think I deserve serious accolades for trying!
Sunday was significantly more fun than Saturday. I texted this guy who friended me on facebook and asked if he wanted to go to brunch with me, but he didn't see my message until I was already starving and in line. I sat alone at a table for a few minutes, melancholily eating my waffle, until a girl, also alone, asked if she could join me. She ended up being a Journalism major and fellow aspiring novelist. We talked about high school and the unusual names we like, and added each other to our phones.
After eating, I had to attend a meeting for English majors, which was made up of mostly boring and pointless information they could have just emailed us. I did, however, meet a handful of interesting Creative Writing majors. While the advisor jingled her huge dangle earrings and rambled about feelings or whatever it is hyperemotional English professors like to ramble about, I received a text from PJ, the kid from facebook. "My friend Michal is sitting three rows behind you, and she wants to meet you," it said. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to turn around and wave awkwardly to her. This message will self-destruct in 5...4...3...." I accepted the mission, and within the hour, Michal and I were friends.
We went to visit her dorm, which she properly described as looking like Barbie had thrown up. Michal has a tiny little corner, and her roommates (whom PJ later dubbed as The Bunnies) entertain their various male guests at all hours among the hot pink faux fur and pinking sheered ribbons. I instantly sympathized.
On our way to the Playboy Mansion, we'd run into Michal's friend, Kayla, so the three of us grabbed PJ from facebook and hung out in one of the dorm lounges for a long time. For over an hour, we had one of those brilliantly effortless banter sessions, in which we all provided hilarious insights nonchalantly, without laughing. I love intelligent, creative people. It was sort of like being inside an episode of Gilmore Girls, but realistic and less tiring. Once the dining hall opened, we met up with PJ's friend, Ellen, and had an early dinner together. They all live near each other back home and did a ton of theater together, but I didn't feel left out. They're an incredibly engaging group, and they were really nice to me. PJ knew who I was from the internet, because he used to be really involved in the lonelygirl15 community, and Michal's watched 5AG before. I'm so grateful for the internet sometimes!
We spent a good portion of the evening sitting in a row on the sidewalk of the busiest street with all the restaurants and shops, chatting and playing Peoplewatching Bingo. I was on the lookout for a girl saying something sassy into her cell phone in the hopes that those around would listen to her conversation. Kayla, who was clad in bright blue jeans, was looking for someone else in brightly-colored pants to look at hers. Michal wanted to find a boy with shaggy hair shake his bangs away to smoke a cigarette. I don't remember Ellen and PJ's, but they were equally clever. Anyway, after Michal won Bingo, PJ and Ellen left to meet somebody, and Michal, Kayla, and I decided it was about time for an adventure.
We went to a hookah bar.
If you've never seen a hookah, it's this fascinating kind of tobacco pipe that sort of looks like it's from Aladdin or something. Despite how badass one feels for stepping foot inside a hookah bar, it is, in fact, completely legal, and considerably less harmful than smoking cigarettes. Oh, and it's FUN. I was timid at first, being an innocent little prude, but by the end of the hour, I'd learned to blow smoke rings, exhale it out my nose, and do other tricks. We were given this big plastic tube and a jar of bubble mix, making the event even more fun. We had a blast blowing giant bubbles filled with swirling smoke, and then trying to keep them afloat midair as long as possible. The best part, though, is when the bubbles pop, and smoke explodes in a pretty sphere.
Kayla, one of the most outgoing people I've ever met, somehow became friends with every person in the bar and appointed herself DJ, to much applause from the other guests. She spent most of the time dancing furiously to her blaring iPod, and making me laugh by speaking along, calmly and matter-of-factly, to the lyrics of her bad, screamy music. Meanwhile, Michal and I took pictures of each other letting smoke slip from our open mouths and blowing puffs out the bubble tube. It was so pleasant and relaxed and fun. And NO, Mom, tobacco is not a gateway drug. Just be happy that tobacco's the most rebellious thing I can realistically imagine trying.
We split our separate ways after we finished the hookah, and I headed back to my dorm with the intention of finding Erin or calling my sister. I felt good, though, and it was my last night to go out before classes tomorrow, so I wasn't really ready to turn in. For some strange, inexplicable reason, something possessed me to go knock on the door of this kid, Anthony, from my high school. We had barely talked since our freshman year, and I didn't suspect we had anything in common, but I figured it was worth a try. Anthony was surprisingly happy to see me, and we walked together to this luau-themed mixer down the street. We shouted a conversation over the ridiculous decibels of Lady Gaga and Sean Kingston, watched people play beach volleyball in the dark, and avoided the thrashing crowds of enthusiastic dancers. I texted PJ to see if he was there, in case I needed an escape from a conversation lull, but somehow, as if hell had frozen over, this football player from the opposing social group at my high school and I truly hit it off. We gathered two of Anthony's friends and walked uptown to find something to do.
At the end of the night, I hung out at my sister's house with Anthony, his two friends, a girl from my town's other high school with whom I share a mutual friend, her roommates, Michal and Erin. The most surreal part of the entire surreal experience was when I found out Anthony has seen Rent live and loved it. He played "Seasons of Love" on his iPhone, and I about died from an overload of the unexpected.
Anyway, now it's 8:30 on Monday night, and Roomie's on her bunk below me, watching Family Guy. I spent the day attending pointless meetings, signing up for information about clubs, and spending some more time with Anthony. We had dinner together in one of the dining halls, went to buy textbooks (all his totaled at $100 and could easily fit in my purse; I spent $300 on two flimsy paperbacks and will still need to buy about six more), and shocked each other once again with our similarities. It turns out he knows a ton about Macs and other computer stuff, he's read some books I really love, and I've now lent him Paper Towns. Keep in mind that I DO NOT LEND BOOKS, so this was a monumental moment in our budding friendship. If you'd have told me a year ago that I'd be allowing Hell High School football players to borrow my favorite books and listening to metal music in a tobacco bar, I would have punched you upside yo 'ead.
I simply can't get over how dynamic and fun college is already proving to be. Sure, part of me aches from time to time for my friends at home, but Erin and I just keep getting closer and closer, and I'm adding all kinds of other awesome people to my growing list of friends. I'm quite nervous for tomorrow, even though I only have one class and it starts in the later afternoon, but I'm sure it'll end up fun. In case any readers are about to make a similar life transition, I promise you, it's everything it's cracked up to be!
Sexy: Finishing a blog post! While I have the most legitimate of excuses this time (every chance I get to sit down and write, I'm interrupted by an opportunity to go out and experience something more), I feel so much more at home when I get to let it all out.
Unsexy: The "Freshman Fifteen." I'm determined to not be one of those girls packing on a bundle of weight between summer and Thanksgiving. It's not easy, though, because everywhere I turn, people are tempting me with desserts and grease!
Chipotle burritos this year: 29
Bagel Street visits this school year: 1
Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3