The College Bubble

You know when you're in high school and your teachers say, "When you're out in the real world, this isn't going to work" (this is presumably said after you screw up something major)? By the "real world" they mean that ambiguous grey area outside of your high school walls, they mean a time where your world doesn't revolve around Friday night football, or who's dating who.

They're talking about college, of course.

Now, a lot of this petty stuff does still remain in college. But now football games consume your Saturdays, relationships are serious and sometimes complicated, and the world is no longer an ambiguous grey area--instead it's a scary and terrifying reality that you'll be a part of all too soon.

But . . . and this is the part that kind of gets on my nerves: everyone talks about how college is the "real world", yet when you think about it, it's really not. While in college, you pretty much loafer. Sure, you might have a job, but it's a "college kid's" job--meaning it doesn't have any real responsibility and most likely it's fun and something you enjoy. During college, sure, you may pay the majority of your bills or even all of them (if you're "lucky") and you may live on your own and cook for yourself and make your own decisions and all that jazz, but it's not really the real world, is it?

Time is sort of suspended. You don't really have responsibilities (I'm generalizing here) other than to not flunk out. You're in class around fifteen hours a week versus working forty hours like you would if you were in the "real world" or being in class thirty-five like you were in . . . shudder. . . high school. Fifteen hours of required responsibility a week and that's it? That's definitely not what I would imagine the "real world" that everyone spoke of in hushed tones during high school to be like. 

And thus far, it's not. My experience thus far in college has been that while you're a student, you kind of exist in a bubble. 


For example, I spend the majority of my time on campus. The news I read is the campus newspaper. I work on campus. And I live three miles from campus. I go to school in Athens, which is THE definition of a college town (it is, you can't find a better example of a college town than Athens) and it's almost as if life here is stuck inside the college bubble as well. The college absolutely defines my--and everyone else in Athens--life. 

And this isn't a bad thing. I mean, we're in college, we're in our twenties, it should define our lives, I guess. But, it's definitely not the real world; it's a fragile bubble with an expiration date of four (possibly five) years. 

Unless you go on to grad school, of course. But I think that's probably a whole other can of worms. 

Teeth and Truth

There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who will blatantly tell you that there’s something in your teeth and those who will not. 

After Christmas break—whereupon I met one of my best friend's best friend's—I decided that I definitely prefer the first type of person to the second. 

Because, after all, who wants to walk around looking all snaggle-toothed because of a piece of spinach? Seriously, save me pride sooner rather than later and just tell me in the middle of lunch. It may be embarrassing at first, awkward even (more awkward for me than for you). But—by telling me there’s a piece of green gook in my teeth and I look like a pirate, you will have earned yourself a lifelong friend—and I’ll be really grateful and thankful to have earned one as well—because there’s one thing you can be certain of: if someone is gonna tell you about the crap you have in your teeth, they’re probably going to tell you about the crap you have going on in your life (should they have to eventually). Or something like that. And everyone needs someone like that. 

Bad Luck

It's almost the middle of January and my boss hasn't taken down the Christmas decorations at work. The little stockings she had hanging up for us were cute, sure, but Christmas is over (sadly). Doesn't she realize it's bad luck to keep Christmas decorations up after the New Year?

It's driving me absolutely bonkers. 

New Year

I rang in the new year this year at a cabin in the mountains with some old friends with high school. Isn't it funny how once you're out of high school, all that cliquey crap goes away and suddenly, you're able to all just be friends? I think it's really neat, but I digress. 

I went to Helen with one of my best friends, Candice, and about ten other people. We rented a cabin, I saw a good group of people that I used to go to school with and that was nice. You know, there's just something comfortingly familiar about being surrounded by people who've known you your whole life and who you don't have to explain anything to. And it's nice to be around people who think I'm perfect and can do no wrong again (I know, I know, that goes against what I've said before about how I hate having to live up to that standard, but it's like a security blanket . . .). 

So we got up there around two-thirty. Surprisingly, there were a lot of people--Helen was hopping! So we joined in. Helen's such an eclectic, little tourist trap of a place. But you gotta love it. Unless you're a historical preservationist, then you hate it based on merit alone. So, a little part of me always dies when we visit, but I kinda just kick that part of me to the curb for the duration of the visit.

I remember being little and my parents had friends who had hot air balloons. Every spring there's this huge hot air balloon festival in Helen. So on weekends in the spring my parents would act as chasers--that means they'd follow wherever the balloon went and meet them at the ground to help clean up and all that stuff. We'd be up at the crack of dawn, driving all over the mountains, constantly keeping an eye out for the balloons. There's this picture of me wandering around inside an actual balloon when I was like two. Pretty cool, I think. 

So there's that quaint aspect. And on the flipside Helen's also a huge biker city and has an equally huge . . . I don't know what you call it? Biker gathering? Hah. Incidentally, my parents also attended that regularly as well, I think. I don't know, I didn't tag along to that, hah. And this was for work, not pleasure, because bikers loved hearing my dad play. 

But anyhow . . . Helen is an interesting place. Oh, and did I mention the entire town is cornily fashioned to look like a town straight out of the Swiss Alps? 

After walking around for probably about an hour, we decided to grab some food. So we went to the Troll Tavern. Gunnar, Candice's boyfriend, was in absolute heaven because every TV in the place but one was playing sports. 

We got to the cabin around five-thirty. At first it was kind of awkward, you know, having to re-acclimate yourself with people you haven't seen in a few years? But it passed (especially after a few beers had been consumed) and festivities started shortly thereafter! 

LOTS of beer and a loonnnggg game of beer pong later (my team made it to the second round! Woot!) and six hours later, we all piled into the living and started the countdown. Someone yelled "Who's gonna kiss Dick Clarks wife at midnight?!" which made us all kind of melancholy. The guys on the couch next to me and informed Jenny McCarthy looked much better pre-plastic surgery which lightened the mood again. And then all of a sudden we had ten seconds. Ten seconds left of 2012 . . . 

. . . and just like that--it was 2013. 

I texted my parents and my mom sent a picture of the two of them plus my nephew at my brother's house (I later found out they'd gone over to play with my brother's cappuccino machine and wake him up because the old man had tried to go to sleep at 10! On New Year's Eve!). And then of course I texted a bunch of friends. 

The rest of the night was kind of an inconsequential blur. The couples that were on the trip got the bedrooms in the cabin and the rest of us piled up in the living room or in the basement (where it was absolutely frigid). I was supposed to share a room with Candice and Gunnar but . . . I ended up sharing the sofa bed with someone and piling in the living room with all the guys instead. You know, giving the love birds privacy and all. Hah. 

We had to be out of the cabin by eleven the next morning, so we got up around nine-thirty, cleaned--and I MEAN cleaned--and poured a LOT of beer down the drain and headed out about ten-thirty, ten forty-five. We stopped at Cracker Barrel on the way home, which was fun. We got a wee bit lost on the way home and finally got home to Winder around four in the afternoon. The trip, overall, was a success. 

So, one of my New Years Resolutions this year is to care less about what people think. I'm starting early. Another resolution is to be more proactive, with life in general. So, we'll see where those go.