So tonight I was originally planning to share some lovely tidbits of co-ed knowledge since a lot of us are returning to class. But after thinking about how it is taking me an extra year to finish undergrad, coupled with the fact that I ran up two credit cards in a two year period, mixed in with switching majors about six times, with a dash of missed classes, chronic procrastination, and a general unwillingness to try and meet new people leads me to believe that I have no bloody business trying to share my recipe for disaster with the supple minds of freshman all over the interwebs. So I will talk about something I’m actually good at, hating people.
Now, I know, momma always said hate is a strong word. I try not to use it lightly. But the general crappiness of humanity demands it so. And in this post, I’m not even talking about how mankind has been on this planet for eons, yet we still lie, cheat, envy, steal, curse, rage…well you get the point. Of course I’m not saying any of that from an elevated place of superiority. I’m damned to hell just like most red-blooded personfolk.
So none of that, “I think I’m better than everyone”. Well ok maybe I do a little but my main issue is with relating to people. Especially those of my age range. It doesn’t matter what age range I am, I cannot connect with my own peer group. I would say in most circumstances I only enjoy interaction with those significantly younger or older than me. I’m 22, so my bell curve of happiness is typically plus or minus ten years.
Unfortunately being a college student puts me smack damn in center of 18-24 universe. Not only am I gravely uninterested in what “normal” college students are involved in (Facebook, Twitter, MySpace…whatever the kiddos are using these days), but I typically feel dreadfully awkward at school unless I am in a serious class discussion about the how gender functions in Petrarchan sonnets.
And while I would love to take cover in my kooky world of imagination and Netflix all the time, I desperately long for friends; a circle of girlfriends that I can go shopping with so I don’t have to guess whether or not something makes my booty look goofy. Girlfriends to complain about how much we despise men yet can’t go a month without dating one. Girlfriends that appreciate my ups and downs and contradictions, and I love theirs.
Yet, my current disposition has made my dream seem like a laughable delusion. I’m an old young person. The old part of me worries constantly, believes in nothing, and rarely shares anything. While thinking like an adult is useful in some situations, it’s painfully detrimental in others. I wish I could just “be.”
As I try to find my place in this big wide world, which for now is mainly my small Midwestern state university, I will try to accept me for what I am. I’m never going to be in a sorority. Or the life of the party. Or that girl that dances on the bar (get enough chocolate martinis in me, different story.) I need to be ok with that and not try to force myself be someone I’m not. While I do feel like an alien a lot of times, it comforts me to know that there are other extraterrestrials out there with the same problems. I just have to muddle through all the strange, smelly humans to find them. Maybe I don’t hate people. Maybe I just need to find the right planet for me.
So yeah, another kinda downer post for me. I swear I will talk about something cool like how much I love my boobies or something. Promise :)
