I was just thinking today that I have become a very bad blogger. It also the case that everything I write seems to be a bit too angsty or TMI-y or emo for public consumption. How I wish blogging had been around when I was 16…

Actually,  given what I know about me at 16, that would not end well.

Shudder.

Anyway, I actually logged into my email and found a comment from an “Anonymous” asking me about what made me go to Hampshire, and bad college experiences in general. This could be a joke from one of my friends who has stumbled upon my blog and wants to roll their eyes at my spiel on the subject. 

Even if that’s the case, I could still probably write something up here, and probably should on the whole subject of “How College Was Not The Best Four Years of My Life, Because If Those Were The Best Four Years of My Life, I Should Just Die Now” especially now that I have survived a few years in grown-up world (And grad school) I was painfully, horribly shy in college.

And I’ll try to write something worthwhile on the subject soon. Or any subject.

I’m so glad I’m escaping the muggy, sticky city this weekend, and even happier that it’s to go see the Laura & Sebastian. I’ve missed them. It was one of those things that just hit me when I was walking home from work last week; I really miss them, and so I need this trip, so the three of us can hang out before we’re off to Chicago, India, and Romania respectively.

I mean, these are the people who were a huge part of making that December 2004 what it was:

Another day, another pile of data, and I am completely incapable of staying focused. I’ve gotten next to nothing done today, and have basically given up in favor of writing this entry. Because my slacking-on-the-job segues nicely into writing all about DC  

Sometimes I hate that this is my job. I hate telling people for the entirely shallow reason that I feel as if I should be doing something more with my life. It was always the plan that I was going to go to graduate school in Fall 2006, so when I stumbled upon my original job here, I was thrilled that I’d found something that would actually give me some credentials. I would’ve been happy to get any job, and was expecting to just get some disposable receptionist position or something anyway. And then I got promoted and it was awesome. And then their were layoffs and department eliminations and essentially a demotion.

That sucked a lot. But since I had rent to pay I was grateful to land in this position. There’s been “drama” at work that I’ve already written about a million times, but overall, there are far worse things.

But sometimes, the insecurity  creeps in. When I was in DC, I felt like I should have been doing more with my life this year. Fan is in the Peace Corps and spent a year in Africa. Jamie was in the right place at the right time and has a great job that he loves at a Jewish not-for-profit that does all this great work. Blah, blah, blah, comparing myself to other people. This struck me when we went to pick up Michael’s stuff from a friend’s apartment. There were six or seven of us sitting around, talking about grad school and what we had done in the interim and I felt like everyone else had done something “real” and I’d just been a bum, or something.

So I voiced this to Michael, and his response, beyond being exactly what I needed to hear, was true. “Rachel, remember what you said your goal was when you moved to New York? That you wanted to be more social and more comfortable with people?”

“Oh yeah, I guess,” I said, already feeling better.

“You couldn’t have sat in that room like that a year ago”

And it hit me that he was right, and the rest of the weekend was one big example of how I achieved exactly what I set out to do.

I got to DC on time. Michael met me at the train station, along with Jamie (who I had met once, and liked. He deduced that I was from Bergen County strictly from the information that I was a Jew and a conservative) and Fan (who I met a few times freshman year.) She was a little cold to me all weekend, but it turned out okay based on the fact that I can stand up for myself, apparently, and that I took care of her when she got way too drunk.

Lunch was had (Tryst, in Adams-Morgan), we checked into our hotel, which was AMAZING. Jamie had found this great deal online, and all weekend we were like “Four Star Hotel on a not-for-profit salary, we rule)

We chilled in the room for a while, then went back out to get Michael’s stuff from his friends place. (That’s where aforementioned discussion occurred.)

Saturday night we went out to Georgetown, and met up with Dafna, another Hampshire person. Fan’s boyfriend also joined us, so I wasn’t the only “outsider.” We did lots of browsing/shopping and went to this Mexican place for dinner where we got to sit outside on an upstairs patio. We decided we’d all squeeze into Dafna’s car, so we walked there through streets lined with awesome old houses, telling ghost-story-ish things (the combination of the weather and the settling made it deliciously creepy), saw the Exorcist stairs, drove to a “haunted house” where we touched the door.

Sunday morning, Michael wasn’t feeling well so I went out with Jamie and Fan. I hung out with them all morning and did not feel out of place or self-conscious once. So I can do this sober! We walked past the White House, got hot dogs, went to the American Museum of Natural History, rode the Carousel and played in the fountains at the Smithsonian castle. Michael met up with us to wander across the mall, meander around the Capitol and get lunch. Speculations on the future were made, “how-I-lost-my-virginity” stories were shared, and “what-I-want-to-do-with-my-life” was discussed. I felt like I’d known these people for years. (Well, Michael I have known since we met on the third day at Hampshire and solved the problem of race over lunch.) Then we napped in our blissfully comfortable hotel room. BLISSFULLY.

Around 9:30 we went downstairs to the tiny little courtyard at our hotel and had champagne.

(Oh & sidenote, because this is where I stand up for myself: Before we went out, Fan and I switched purses, due to outfit matching, she said, in the bitchiest voice “not to be rude, but this was $40 and I got it in Paris, so I’m attached to it.” I paused for a second before saying, politely; “Well mine was $60 (lie!) and I got it in Florence, so be equally careful.” She was taken aback. Jamie and Mike were laughing and Jamie was like “I am so glad you sassed back.” So it’s a dumb, lame little thing, but if I hadn’t said anything I would have been annoyed about it all evening. And Jamie, by the way is awesome. He went out of his way to make sure I was included and having a good time, which I appreciated since he and Fan are extremely close.)

Anyway, so champagne. We all made toasts. Mine was “To not taking any shit from anybody.” None of us had eaten, so we were giddy as we proceeded to get sushi. After sushi, Mike went off with Dafna, Jamie, Fan and I checked out the gay scene at Dupont Circle. At the first place, drinks were only $2 and Fan I were the only women in the place, and we sang along to the music, and again, I was impressed with how relaxed I felt (no it wasn’t the liquor!)

Jamie was unimpressed with the eye candy, so we went downstairs and chatted with people at another bar. Fan (who is this cute, tiny Asian girl) was the center of attention. I stuck to chatting to a recently dumped guy about how men suck. You know the drill – broken hearts in a bar love company.

Jamie found a cute boy he liked, so we walked over to another club. My $10 cover charge gave me the privilege of pulling Fan through crowds of sweater, muscular gay men and getting her to the bathroom, because she was violently sick.

Jamie gave me cab money, and I took her back, where the front desk guy helped me walk her upstairs. I know she felt guilt, but I’ve been there done that, so it was fine. And it kind of broke the ice between us.

I spent all day Monday with just Michael, having a relaxing lunch, chilling and talking. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year, which is way too long. Though in some ways, it doesn’t feel like that long, because we stay in such close touch.

So it was in no way the most fun weekend ever or anything,. There were definitely moments during Fan’s L-O-N-G shopping excursions when I was bored out of my mind and my feet hurt and wine. But overall it was exactly the weekend that I needed, and I came home and just felt so good about everything.

And so that was two weeks ago, and that overall feeling of goodness has mostly prevailed. I don’t know. Michael says I sound different on the phone.

And things ARE good. At the beer garden a few weeks ago, CK and I had the type of conversation the two of us always have when we’re drunk. I was drifting towards melancholy a bit, because of everything with the boy drama, because I still have my moments of feeling hurt and sad over that. And he interrupted me and was just like “Fuck that. Rachel. You are going to U Chicago. You have a way out. None of this is going to matter.”

Affirmation from my friends is always amazing, from CK it’s practically priceless. We are very, very similar creatures, possibly more so than anyone I’ve ever met. We spend our time at work either discussing politics, or engaged in our repertoire in which we insult and deride each other. And then we get drunk together and all the walls come down, and seriously, he’s become one of my good friends. Where’d I meet him? At work. Where’d I meet Jill-IAN, who is like, my long lost twin who I :: heart :: to death? At work. Where’d I need Drew? At work (And Drew and I are ADORABLE together.) Where’d I meet the majority of my friends? At work.

When I moved to the city, I didn’t know anyone, really. I was still walking around seeing ghosts and still not over HeWhoShallNotBeNamed. I met all these awesome people through my job, and hanging out with them was always great, and it sounds clichéd, but I guess that’s what gave me the confidence to go out and meet people through other networks. I can’t say I’ve made close friends that way, but I’ve made a lot of acquaintances, and hung out with a lot of people, and now if I WANT to go out and do something, I can. And when I want to go home and watch Law & Order SVU, I can.

And so I may not have a glamorous job, and I may not make a lot of money. But when I go off to school, I’ll have survived a year in New York City, with stories to tell and friends to keep in touch with.

And I think that’s pretty damn good. 

But I Believe I’m Worth Coming Home To

Epiphany: Three-Point-Five Years IS My Div III

Firstly:

May 11 has become irrelevant. The real challenge is getting to my would-be graduation date without regressing and irrationally freaking out. I will possibly go the Hampshire and ring the Div Free bell, and totally cry. It’s unlikely I will go to Saratoga, because anyone I care about seeing isn’t graduating, and I can see them this summer. Would-be graduation is May 21. Thus, 33 days. Yay, countdowns.

Secondly.

I only listen to music in my car. Obviously, I have certain songs that I associate with certain times of year, or specific memories. (ok, I have a LOT of those, because I have an eidetic memory, and listen to music almost solely for lyrics.) But I also associate certain songs with certain roads. Flagpole Sitta’? Colonial Road going towards Wayne on summer nights, 2000. Brilliant Disguise? Driving south on Route 9 just before exit 13, where the pieces of the old billboard always look like the lights of a cop car from far away, last March. All For Leyna? Route 116 towards Holyoke, going to that random coffee shop there, the Monday night after I decided I was transferring.

My brain needs to be submitted for some kind of study; it’s not normal to have this vivid a memory.

Also, it is Monday, and I am in a good mood. I really am the only person on the planet who doesn’t hate Mondays. Clearly, I’m also at work right now. I think I love my life.

This is my final essay for my writing class. If I get an A on it, I get an A in the class. It’s due Tuesday. So…opinions would be welcome. And actually, I’m begging. C’mon people, I’m all alone in my Scribner House, I graduate on Tuesday and I’m going cross-eyed from staring at my computer screen. LJ is going to screw with the formatting, but ignore that.

Three-Point-Five-Years

I am not the notoriously cynical, pessimistic, voted most sarcastic girl I was in high school here. In high school I was good about being the very vocal minority, who (sometimes condescendingly) dismissed the views of my classmates. I bitched about the ridiculousness of a system that reward stupid kids who spit back rhetoric with a high class rank. I tried to avoid getting into NHS. I was a star academic decathalete (and loved it!!!) with Cs in Chemistry, Spanish, and Math. I wasn’t a contradiction, but some might of saw me that way.

I am the token libertarian member of SYRA. If my parents knew I had joined a club with Republican in the title I think they’d cry. I speak up in class and I’m not shy about expressing my opinions if you ask, but I don’t go out of my way to make it known that I’m probably one of the more conservative people on this campus. I don’t write articles for the SkidNews, that’s bashed my club every week. Even though I can write coherent articles it just seems pointless to publish something that people will dismiss because its ‘conservative.’ I don’t know.

Maybe I’m not putting enough faith in the Skidmore community, but in the past year and a half, I’ve found that the ‘collegiate liberals’ here are barely better than Hampshire. Sure they shower more often, and don’t think money is evil, since most of them have quite a lot, but they hold similar narrow-minded views that they refuse to see past. And I don’t understand. College is, ideally, supposed to challenge you, and challenge you’re perceptions of the world. Skidmore doesn’t do that. Most students enter Skidmore as relatively liberal, and take Liberal Studies which is supposed to teach you to think about things the way you never did before, but really just confirms all the comfortable ideas most people already have. It’s approach is normative and no conclusions are drawn. The class would have been controversial in my upper middle class white high school, filled with kids whose parents “Vote for Reagan” signs on their lawns had scared my hippie mother when we first moved to the area. At Skidmore, it just seems to enforce what almost everyone already believes. It doesn’t challenge any assumptions.

Again, maybe I’m just being cynical, but its been a long time since I felt this disillusioned. At Hampshire I found crazy hippies somewhere to the left of communist who spouted endless ridiculous rhetoric and discounted my view because I’m white and straight. At Skidmore I’ve found classes full of people who don’t do their reading, liberals who think the views they acquired freshman year will guide them through the rest of their lives, and a community that is rather intolerant of views that do not fit into its touchy-feely liberal scheme. You’ll certainly never find “The Closing of the American Mind” in LS1 or read a Phyllis Schafly article in Women Studies 101. If the general population doesn’t agree with it, it isn’t discussed. So many viewpoints, so many ideas are discounted, and even ignored. In high school, the focus was narrow and I was under the impression that that changed in college. I was wrong.

I’ve changed since graduating high school, I’m still dramatic, but more quiet – a product of barely uttering a word my entire tenure at Hampshire. I’m less cynical, less bitter, and less angry, because I am more content with my surroundings (sometimes) and my life. I’m not as notorious. I’m somewhat alienated from a good part of campus life, and getting here a year late didn’t help that. I’m not unhappy with that. I like “my” version of college life, even though its often atypical. I love the government department and talking to my professors and getting obsessed with my reading.

But I don’t like being attacked in the paper in a baseless article. I don’t like being in class and having everyone in the room gang up on me, and rudely tell me I’m wrong without even letting me finish my sentence. I don’t expect people to agree with me, in fact, I’m perfectly willing to engage anyone who disagrees with me. I’m not afraid to defend what I believe. I am, however, insulted by the fact that liberals here are so threatened by conservative views that they have to result to anti-SYRA propaganda. I find it appauling that if I try to express myself before Senate I’m accused of breaking the honor code because my opinion is apparently aligned with ‘not upholding the integrity of Skidmore College.’ I find it depressing when people raise completely irrational ideas in class that have no basis in reality and are applauded for their compassionate liberal thinking. And sometimes, I’m lonely, because all I want to do is have a beer and argue about books and politics and ideas, and that’s when I really miss my o-town friends.

Skidmore is not what I expected it to be. I knew it was liberal (and that fits with a lot of my views, actually). I knew it was a mix of hippies and rich kids. I didn’t know they’d lie to me like this. I was promised a challenge and what I’ve gotten is a place where I can whip out a 10 page paper 2 days before and get an A, when Ms Roeser would have just shook her head and used the “STOP” stamp. I’m not unhappy here. College, overall, has just not been what I’ve expected. I’ve created my own form of the college experience, and I’m fine with that, most of the time. It just makes me cynical sometimes. I am, after all, “the cynical one” of the LTTC.

I want beer and good conversation and I want college liberals to stop being so afraid of the views that they try to so hard to counter.
But I’ll take 2 out of 3 (but don’t be sad cause 2 out of 3 ain’t bad)

It’s September 11. According to some people, it should feel significant, but it certainly doesn’t too me. I didn’t think of the date until I saw people’s away messages reminding me. It’s certainly not that I’ve forgotten the events, but there has been SO MUCH overkill in the past 2 years, its hard to feel like I should sit around “remembering.”

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Upon Hearing My Complaints on Hippies Here

Brent: skidmore is like hampshire lite
Me: I KNOW
Brent: it’s like the six flags to disney world

Me: six flags tries to be disney world though, skidmore doesn’t try to be hampshire

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Hm. The espresso fumes have gotten to my brain and I have nothing to say about anything
Doing all this cafe/school stuff is turning me into an uber bitch, and a confused one at that. What day is it, where’d I put my keys, etc.

I’m going to attempt to quit my job due to the unhealthiness of it all. I’m also cheating on my live journals are whatstheword right now, but thats okay, because I also cheated on the away message rules. Hm. How incoherent.

Goal: Do less stuff next week.

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