Freshman Retrospection
After having completed my first year at The Pennsylvania State University's main campus in University Park, PA, I decided that now is as good of a time as ever to reflect on my impressions, new ambitions, and just to inform the blogosphere about this now gone section of my ever-linear life.
Since August 24th and until May 9th, I called 105 Sproul Hall my home. This small cubicle of about 120 square feet was shared with a roommate. This small cubicle, I called home. As I opened the door on August 24th, I was instantly frozen as I peered over the austere surfaces which were screaming for personalization and character, begging me to lay a paper or two atop the desk simply to break up the void of nothingness. By May 9th, I had collected a good heap of shit, ranging from a large 3x5 German flag which I had hung proudly in my room during early fall when it was still 90 fucking degrees while I blasted my techno music, making sure passers-by would easily see my German pride as I lived on the first floor, to a plethora of cards which had been bequeathed to me for various reasons. Although the area seemed extremely small, especially as my partitioned 60 square feet also included a bed which took up about 15 sq ft, and a desk, bolster, and closet which took up around 20 sq ft, and half the area occupied by our shared minifridge, the space was extremely functional, I became especially proud that my space had in it a place for absolutely everything, organization which I never thought was possible, and that's when I decided that I would be quite satisfied with living in a small apartment for the rest of my life, so long as the city outside my door was large enough for me to breathe.
College has thankfully pushed me to the edges of acceptance, expansion, and has made me somewhat jaded to the differences in people I see everyday. Nevermore do I turn my head to look at someone who has dreadlocks or slanted eyes, especially as people wearing chicken and banana suits aren't uncommon prowling around outside of specific frat houses. My group of close friends includes a Chinese-Jamaican (my best friend), a Chinaman from Hong Kong, an Indian who's half-white, and a girl who is so white that she can trace her lineage back to William Bradford, the first governor of the Plymouth Colony.
Several of my stereotypes have changed, or, rather, stayed the same, but from a different perspective. I had Jersey people all wrong - I used to think they were bad drivers, but, after having driven on the Parkway, I've found that they're just assertive and know where the fuck they're going and how they're going to get there - I seem to have a newfound appreciation for those from the Garden State. I've found that, against my sincere wishes, it seems that several long-standing stereotypes are true...1.) Chinese women should not drive - I was only ever almost hit by two people on campus, both were Asian, both were from Connecticut [strangely]...2.) Black men can be incredibly loud, and thereby inconsiderate, which I found out when my neighbor refused to stop screaming, stomping, and cheering at 3am while playing Madden, especially after having asked him to stop for several consecutive nights and after having notified my RA, who proceeded to visit his room several times.
Let's talk about firsts - I had my first experiences at traditional Frat parties, complete with beer pong, stripper poles, and d.i.y. cocktails. I discovered the elegance and pleasure of the hookah at Chronic Town. I pulled a complete 180 when I started smoking around November, after having gotten both of my parents and my ex-girlfriend to stop smoking. I would elaborate here about the "smoking thing", but that's quite a lengthly topic which would be more appropriate in a post of its own.
Obviously, it was my first time being a college student, which I MUCH prefer (to make as much of an understatement as possible) to being a high school student where teachers are on power trips and good students (i.e., me) get detention for "holding a teacher's calculator hostage" (which I actually didn't, btw). The atmosphere is so much more freeing and is the type of thing that I have been searching for for a very long time; especially coming from living on a mountain for a solid 13 years, being able to step outside and be around so many people my age instantly was something that I began to take for granted which I now hate myself for. I was able to walk on a sidewalk for nothing more than 20 seconds to our convenience store and dining commons to purchase anything that I then desired, from Bold Chex Mix to Advil and Trojan condoms.
I've experienced the dilemma of being the typical college student who is notorious for being poor, which is most definitely a learning experience and sick study into this thing called a "budget" and "saving". However, I coped with this quite copacetically through the donation of (rather, sale of) my plasma. Two times per week, usually Wednesday and Saturday, I would allot a two-hour chunk of my time to the donation of my plasma at Biolife, downtown. Each donation, I would make my appointment by phone, the the bus downtown, show up and scan my fingerprint, take a quite lengthly electronic questionaire on a touchscreen (have you taken Avodart in the last 12 months, have you EVER taken Tegison, have you had sexual contact with another man EVEN ONCE since 1977), have my fingernails looked at under a blacklight, have my arms checked for trackmarks (both front and back), have my weight taken, have my finger pricked, blood drawn, temperature and pulse taken, and my blood checked for protein and iron content...if I passed all that, I would then proceed to the hallway where I would wait for a bed to open up where I would then be prepped with a quite large amount of iodine, stuck with the needle, listen to my iPod for a good 1.5 hours, be patched up, scan out, and be on my good fucking way, freezing my dick off because of the room-temp saline which they pumped into me and with a bright pink fucking band which they wrapped my wound with, tight enough to cut off the circulation to my forearm.
Being at a top drinking school, I've seen my fair share of drunkards, from that crazy bitch that stumbled into Dunkin Donuts at 1am, well announced by her exclaiming "I WANT SOME NUTS!!!...DONUTS, that is!", proceeding to tell her life story to a table of adults enjoying their blueberry lattes and vanilla bean coolatas, which included her most recent debacle trying to get into a frat house - "I tried to get into this one frat, but the guy said 'you're too drunk', so I was like 'suck my TITTIE!!!'", to one of my good friends who passed out on the floor of his supplemental room only in his boxers, with his head in the trashcan, BEFORE they even left the room to go to a party.
Now, all but a sophomore, I can't say that I have any regrets from my freshman year...I got involved in the worst relationship of my life, but I've taken from that what I could in order to never make such a stupid mistake again by thinking that you can force someone to let you help them. I've made some friends who I know will have a continual significant impact on my life and its course, not simply some associates whose only common thread we have is some shared gen. ed. class. I feel quite confident in saying that I wouldn't mind repeating this past year of my life again, and again, and again, and again...
Since August 24th and until May 9th, I called 105 Sproul Hall my home. This small cubicle of about 120 square feet was shared with a roommate. This small cubicle, I called home. As I opened the door on August 24th, I was instantly frozen as I peered over the austere surfaces which were screaming for personalization and character, begging me to lay a paper or two atop the desk simply to break up the void of nothingness. By May 9th, I had collected a good heap of shit, ranging from a large 3x5 German flag which I had hung proudly in my room during early fall when it was still 90 fucking degrees while I blasted my techno music, making sure passers-by would easily see my German pride as I lived on the first floor, to a plethora of cards which had been bequeathed to me for various reasons. Although the area seemed extremely small, especially as my partitioned 60 square feet also included a bed which took up about 15 sq ft, and a desk, bolster, and closet which took up around 20 sq ft, and half the area occupied by our shared minifridge, the space was extremely functional, I became especially proud that my space had in it a place for absolutely everything, organization which I never thought was possible, and that's when I decided that I would be quite satisfied with living in a small apartment for the rest of my life, so long as the city outside my door was large enough for me to breathe.
College has thankfully pushed me to the edges of acceptance, expansion, and has made me somewhat jaded to the differences in people I see everyday. Nevermore do I turn my head to look at someone who has dreadlocks or slanted eyes, especially as people wearing chicken and banana suits aren't uncommon prowling around outside of specific frat houses. My group of close friends includes a Chinese-Jamaican (my best friend), a Chinaman from Hong Kong, an Indian who's half-white, and a girl who is so white that she can trace her lineage back to William Bradford, the first governor of the Plymouth Colony.
Several of my stereotypes have changed, or, rather, stayed the same, but from a different perspective. I had Jersey people all wrong - I used to think they were bad drivers, but, after having driven on the Parkway, I've found that they're just assertive and know where the fuck they're going and how they're going to get there - I seem to have a newfound appreciation for those from the Garden State. I've found that, against my sincere wishes, it seems that several long-standing stereotypes are true...1.) Chinese women should not drive - I was only ever almost hit by two people on campus, both were Asian, both were from Connecticut [strangely]...2.) Black men can be incredibly loud, and thereby inconsiderate, which I found out when my neighbor refused to stop screaming, stomping, and cheering at 3am while playing Madden, especially after having asked him to stop for several consecutive nights and after having notified my RA, who proceeded to visit his room several times.
Let's talk about firsts - I had my first experiences at traditional Frat parties, complete with beer pong, stripper poles, and d.i.y. cocktails. I discovered the elegance and pleasure of the hookah at Chronic Town. I pulled a complete 180 when I started smoking around November, after having gotten both of my parents and my ex-girlfriend to stop smoking. I would elaborate here about the "smoking thing", but that's quite a lengthly topic which would be more appropriate in a post of its own.
Obviously, it was my first time being a college student, which I MUCH prefer (to make as much of an understatement as possible) to being a high school student where teachers are on power trips and good students (i.e., me) get detention for "holding a teacher's calculator hostage" (which I actually didn't, btw). The atmosphere is so much more freeing and is the type of thing that I have been searching for for a very long time; especially coming from living on a mountain for a solid 13 years, being able to step outside and be around so many people my age instantly was something that I began to take for granted which I now hate myself for. I was able to walk on a sidewalk for nothing more than 20 seconds to our convenience store and dining commons to purchase anything that I then desired, from Bold Chex Mix to Advil and Trojan condoms.
I've experienced the dilemma of being the typical college student who is notorious for being poor, which is most definitely a learning experience and sick study into this thing called a "budget" and "saving". However, I coped with this quite copacetically through the donation of (rather, sale of) my plasma. Two times per week, usually Wednesday and Saturday, I would allot a two-hour chunk of my time to the donation of my plasma at Biolife, downtown. Each donation, I would make my appointment by phone, the the bus downtown, show up and scan my fingerprint, take a quite lengthly electronic questionaire on a touchscreen (have you taken Avodart in the last 12 months, have you EVER taken Tegison, have you had sexual contact with another man EVEN ONCE since 1977), have my fingernails looked at under a blacklight, have my arms checked for trackmarks (both front and back), have my weight taken, have my finger pricked, blood drawn, temperature and pulse taken, and my blood checked for protein and iron content...if I passed all that, I would then proceed to the hallway where I would wait for a bed to open up where I would then be prepped with a quite large amount of iodine, stuck with the needle, listen to my iPod for a good 1.5 hours, be patched up, scan out, and be on my good fucking way, freezing my dick off because of the room-temp saline which they pumped into me and with a bright pink fucking band which they wrapped my wound with, tight enough to cut off the circulation to my forearm.
Being at a top drinking school, I've seen my fair share of drunkards, from that crazy bitch that stumbled into Dunkin Donuts at 1am, well announced by her exclaiming "I WANT SOME NUTS!!!...DONUTS, that is!", proceeding to tell her life story to a table of adults enjoying their blueberry lattes and vanilla bean coolatas, which included her most recent debacle trying to get into a frat house - "I tried to get into this one frat, but the guy said 'you're too drunk', so I was like 'suck my TITTIE!!!'", to one of my good friends who passed out on the floor of his supplemental room only in his boxers, with his head in the trashcan, BEFORE they even left the room to go to a party.
Now, all but a sophomore, I can't say that I have any regrets from my freshman year...I got involved in the worst relationship of my life, but I've taken from that what I could in order to never make such a stupid mistake again by thinking that you can force someone to let you help them. I've made some friends who I know will have a continual significant impact on my life and its course, not simply some associates whose only common thread we have is some shared gen. ed. class. I feel quite confident in saying that I wouldn't mind repeating this past year of my life again, and again, and again, and again...
posted by Zaevodnik at
21:41
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