This is the story of a sober semester at a Southern party school:
After arriving in Charlottesville on Thursday for my third year at UVA, the days quickly became a marathon of reunions, plans and partying, the latter of which I have (with the slight nudge of my parents) decided not to participate in. By "partying" I am referring to alcohol and drugs, two strong presences in the UVA social scene. I'm not ignorant enough to think that that is the only kind of fun that can be had, but certainly in my larger circle of friends it seems to take the cake. So here I begin my semester on the straight and narrow, blogging my thoughts as it happens.
What I have been told by a few people over the years is that I don't need alcohol to have fun, and THANK GOD it's true because otherwise I'd have put a gun to my head this weekend (*not an actually suicide threat*). I have spent the last three nights at my friends' apartment since they graciously housed us until we could move into Theta. Being a guest in a boy apartment is quite different, especially when you aren't romantically involved with any of them. You aren't shielded from the COPIOUS amounts of beer consumed and weed smoked. It would be shocking for most people, but luckily with my infamous "whatevs" attitude, it only amounts to entertaining. And so, living in their apartment, I was a direct witness to what is referred to at college as "late night." It's exactly what it sounds like: a social gathering late at night, usually starting at 2:00 when bars close, and they can go as late as 4:30 some nights. These past nights have been mostly guys, including a few first years who would rather crash on an older guy's couch than truck all the way back to dorms. FIFA is usually being playing by a few, and a bong might be passed around casually. Slowly the crowd dissipates, either by fatigue or inebriation. So far, I have noticed that my late night status is weaker without alcohol, and I turn in closer to 3 than 4. To some this might sound ridiculous, but it's all relative, and I can assure you that last year I could outlast pretty much anyone at a late night. But alas, all great things must come to a change.
Back to my night. Breaking Bad is the most exiting part of my night, and the house's constant din is no longer, since most of the girls have gone out for the night. Never mind that it's a Sunday night; classes have not started and thus every night is a weekend. After big nights Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, I can't even think about going out right about now. Perhaps it's because alcohol is the stimulant (I know it's actually a depressant but bare with me) that keeps one's momentum going for a five day bender such as this one. Once the momentum is gone the crash is hard. And although I have a severe yet undiagnosed case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), I am surprisingly content staying in, curling up on the cozy L-shaped couch and seeing girls pop in and out.
As for the excuses used when offered a drink? I use a varying few:
1. No thanks, I just had one.
2. I can't take shots, they make me sick.
3. I'm on antibiotics, my tolerance is shot!
I haven't really been pressed when declining a drink, which is definitely a testament to the kind of people I hope to surround myself with. Have fun, but don't make someone else feel bad because they're not having the same sort of fun.
My thoughts are a little all over the place tonight, as I'm trying to comment on my night as well as give an overview to my school and my plan for the semester. I apologize if it doesn't flow nicely, but I do think a blog should serve as a digital display of one's thoughts, and frankly, my thoughts are everywhere.
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