Saturday Night chez the Hipsters

Bubble gum dispenser? No: ball point pens. 

Here's to Hipster College!

I remember my first high school “party” like the serendipitous accident it was. As a measly Freshman, I was under the impression that the party was a student-organized event my for my French foreign exchange student and her other school mates that were visiting from my high school’s Toulousian sister-school. It was; it was also an upper classman house party. When my grandparents dropped my exchange student and me off, I was the only Freshman there. I even remember one of the male Juniors, who was about three times my size, noticing me from across the room and roaring,

“WHAT IS A FRESHMAN DOING HERE?!”

#awkward

That was the beginning of a very short string of high school parties I attended. I went to most of the cast parties after the plays¹. I dressed up and went to probably 70% of the offered school dances. I only officially crashed one party, using my Chilean exchange student as my excuse.² I hung out with my friends on a regular basis. From my experience in high school, I conclude that I’ve developed into a mostly social individual, not itching to do something every single night, but happily making an appearance at various events.

College has posed lots of opportunities for me to “party” for no particular reason, but often it seems as though you have to know the right people, or live in the right dorm. The all-female, quiet dorm isn’t exactly ground-zero for a party zone. That being said, in about 30 minutes there’s gonna be an orientation week party, and from what I’ve heard will involve lots of glow sticks and “blue lights.” And loud music. And dancing. This is every college kid’s reason for living on campus, right? To live conveniently close to a thriving social scene? After all, it’s Saturday night! No class tomorrow!³

So why do I feel more inclined to stay in with Microsoft word and an interesting 10-minute-play idea?

I mean, the deadline for the competition is November 1^st, so I don’t have much time left to write, revise, rewrite, rerevise, give up, regain my confidence, polish, print, and submit. There’s no time to exert my inept dancing abilities to dubstep;⁴ I shall write!

And, I must add, I’ve been plenty social. Last night I went to a screening of The Princess Bride, my newly declared 5^th favorite movie.⁵ The day before that I hung out with my new friends on North Lawn. I pretty much always eat with some means of company at lunch and dinner. I went to “Lube it Up,” a sex talk wherein an SLC alum returned and discussed safe sex by way of stand-up comedy act. I went on a walking tour of Bronxville Wednesday evening. I went to a dance under “the tent” a week ago. See, Dad, I’m getting myself out there.

I have four years ahead of me. I’m only a week in. My toes are barely wet⁶.

Good God. I gotta find more interesting things to write about.  

Well, I’ve officially been an active student at Hipster College for a week. Here’s a thought for each day I’ve been here:

7) College is a perpetual introduction; I’m constantly introducing myself to peers and professors. And because I’m meeting roughly 100 people every day, I’m constantly forgetting names and faces. The frustrating part is that I took pride in my needle-sharp memory, but it’s failing me now. The same questions come up: name, year, city of origin…that’s my favorite thing to ask, where people are from. The diversity here is awesome. I go to school with lots of Californians.

6) It’s hot. Like, the humidity has been nice and sticky, but sometimes you go outside and simply bake. Then you have to climb hills to get anywhere⁷. This is not a complaint, necessarily, since it’s summer in the Big Apple, but fair-skinned⁸ individuals like me can’t help but notice.

5) I’m still looking for good hangout/study spots. As I walk around campus I can’t help but notice ideal reading/people watching places, but they don’t seem to sustain the charm they once had.

4) It’s not difficult to get to Bronxville. And if it’s not difficult to get to Bronxville, then it won’t be difficult to get to Grand Central Terminal. Earlier this week I waited on the platform with my friends as they got on the city bound train. Tomorrow’s my turn.

3) The professors’ offices are beautiful places. Books. Cryptic, framed photographs. Chairs. Oftentimes, rugs. Visiting their nooks makes me want to be a college professor. Dr. Em. I can see it now. But my students, who probably aren’t even born yet, would just call me Em, because that’s how it goes here.  

2) I don’t think I’m homesick yet. It’s probably due to the following reasons: I’m keeping myself occupied, I’m contacting home fairly quickly, and I really like it here.

1) Class starts in two days and my schedule is not entirely finished. I know for sure I’m taking that playwriting course and Japanese I, but due to high volumes of students applying for the same neuroscience course that I did, my measly freshman status got me bumped. Today I ran around looking for an alternate. My solution: an anthropology course called “Global Kinships.” I never thought I’d take anthropology, but it sounded like a course that any of my former history teachers would have enjoyed, particularly one beloved teacher.

For some reason I keep thinking of the phrase “(verb) more, (verb) less.” For example, “Wag more, bark less.”

I believe if myself of the future would be scolding the present-moment me, saying “Party more, write less.”

In due time.

Besides, this is Hipster College; it's too main stream to go out on a Saturday...

EXTENSIVE FOOT NOTES:

1.      Appropriately so, since I was in the shows.

2.      That one also earns a #awkward, and I was a Senior. We didn’t stay very long.

3.      We haven’t had class all week. Class doesn’t start ’til Monday.

4.      I suspect they’re going to play mainly dubstep…

5.      My 1^st favorite: Catch Me If You Can. My 2^nd: Little Miss Sunshine. 3^rd: Million Dollar Baby. 4^th: Schindler’s List. Favorite Princess Disney Movie: Frozen. Favorite International Film: My Neighbor Totoro. The list goes on.  

6.      Figuratively.

7.      I can’t wait to do it in the snow.

8.      Or pasty, as my beloved siblings would say.