Sunday, May 11, 2008

In Memoriam of Sophomore Year

Freshman year

My last final is tomorrow at 10am, and after that, I'm free. Instead of spending these last few precious hours studying, I've sunken into a nostalgic funk, spearhead by a perusal through a scrapbook from high school, and dangerously punctuated by a visit from David that turned into regaling each other with stories of freshman year. Long story short: we were always drunk and doing drugs. We fucked a lot of people. We had endless supplies of money because our parents hadn't gotten sick of us asking for it yet. We cared way too much about the scene, our clothes, the people we hung around. It was fraudulent in a lot of ways, but we don't regret it, because it's one of those things you can look back on and appreciate now that it's over. I did things I'm not proud of - bedding a hot grad student on St. Patrick's day who couldn't get it up due to too much whiskey, spending hundreds of dollars on drugs and clothes and drinks at overpriced dingy LES dive bars, refusing to care about schoolwork because this was COLLEGE, and this is what college students DO. I was irresponsible, and I reveled in that completely.

It was satisfying in a lot of ways to get it all out of my system in one year. I quit doing hard drugs in October, and I quit spending money on going out because I realized that I just didn't enjoy it anymore. I focused more on school, and on writing, and on things like this blog, which has gotten me to places I never would have even dreamed of before. I spent a handful of months dating someone who found my writing and my studiousness attractive, and then falling in love, and then going to London and learning what it's like to fall out of love again. But I came back from all that, and I'm better than ever, and I'm not regretful in the slightest. I got into countless fights with my friends over absolutely ridiculous things. My dad screamed "Fuck you!" at me more times than one. I made out with the hottest boy imaginable a few weeks ago. I went on dates, and had meetings, and went to the gym, and built my life up. I watched movies and wrote and wrote and god did I write, even if it was about pointless things, like this entry, for example. But it felt good because I was doing something with myself. I wasn't going out until dawn and sleeping until mid-afternoon and waking up and doing it all over again. I was waking up early and being PRODUCTIVE.

And it strikes me that I'm an adult now. I get the most satisfaction out of productivity and accomplishment. I should be disgusted and upset by that realization, but instead I just feel kind of at peace with things.

This year is so different than freshman year. I spent most of my nights staying in, getting stoned, writing, reading and watching movies. I spent first semester wrapped up in someone who I barely speak to now. I worked and joined clubs and challenged the President of NYU and just overall became more accepting of myself and those around me. I got out of subculture and into feminism and honed my interests to where I can actually articulate them now, and they extend beyond getting drunk and letting some creepy guy feel me up in the back of The Annex.

The best years of my life are halfway over. Four semesters in New York down, only three to go. I'm leaving this city for Paris in the fall, and there will be champagne and French boys with mop hair and accordion music, but I will miss this city, and all the fucked up things I allowed myself to get into while here. So if these are the best years, bring on the even better ones.



Mazi said...

eek growing up!

btw nice omission (intentional or not) of the capital G in 'god'

LOLSAM said...

i love you and i'm so excited you're going to be here this summer.