Thursday, September 11, 2008
So…It’s summer, actually it’s the end of summer. Everyone’s headed back to school in a week or two, but I have an entire month left before I make my voyage back to Hillsman University. Damn trimesters. Luckily, I have a couple of friends who are town. This means that I won’t be life threateningly bored-just annoying bored- for my remaining month. I’m sure it will be filled with excited adventures such as, not leaving the house for days, reading book after book (which I might actually enjoy, wink), watching too much TV and Grey’s Anatomy on DVD, calling my friends who will be having much more fun than me while they’re back at school, Facebooking to no end, online window shopping and knowing me, the random crying spell that I have probably too often. Oh, joy!
It’s strange that summer is basically over. First, because it seem like I just got back to Chicago ( a month later than everyone else) and secondly because this summer wasn’t all that much fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore my friends and I missed them terribly while I was at school. But home is different now. After nine months of big, alcohol infested college parties, small alcoholic gatherings just don’t cut it. The crazy, random outings my friends and I had in high school, when it was just so good to be bad, have been replaced with predictable nights with the same group of girls and guys, leaving me pining for school again. What does a girl have to do to get a little black out? A night that induces the triumvirate of wanting to vomit, cry and laugh when you wake up and remember what you did the night before? Geez…
However, this summer was not a complete bust. Despite the lackluster social life, and a job (that I probably shouldn’t even call a job considering I only did it a couple times a week and made virtually no money), I did learn a couple things and come close, or at least close enough to being over Jake. Yes, Jake. My former “love,” obsession, and source of my drama the entire first year of college. At this point, I can now write about him without feeling like I might throw up or have a nervous breakdown or feel like my heart is literally breaking. Now, don’t get me wrong, I still think about him and talk about him probably, no, decidedly too much, but I’ve realized that I’m better off without him and we just do not work.
Jake has moved on. He has a new girlfriend with the name of a bird and the appeal of a pigeon and I’ve come to the conclusion that while I may have my crazy moment (him being the reason), Jake is positively insane (with or without me). I hope that one day we’ll be friends or at least acquaintances. And no, I don’t mean “friends” like we are now. “Friends” with the relationship consisting of him or his best friend calling me and saying stupid shit, or seeing him at a bar where he precedes to slightly harass and annoy me, the next day sending me inappropriate texts. All of these things in an attempt to make me pine for him, never to get over him. I want to be at a point where we care about each other but don’t care about each other, with no bitter emotions attached. I haven’t heard from him in about a week or two though, so I assume that he and Ms. Bird are very happy together, at least for the time being.
Oh dear, nothing surprises me anymore. To be honest, although I’m not completely over him, I am very excited for a new boy, or ahem, new boys (plural) at school. I have never been more desperate for male attention, considering that I’ve known the boys I hang out at home for about eight years. They are more like brothers, or maybe cousins, probably even second cousins, whom I do not find remotely attractive at all.
I’m trying to imagine what my sophomore year at Hillsman will be like. I’m moving into a house with Miranda, Kesley, Bailey, Nicole and Ginna. This, I am very excited for. But, although I know it’s going to be a lot of fun, I recognize that six females living in one, albeit small, house could equal a lot of drama. Especially with Miranda and her “besties” and their constant mood swings.
Another thing on my mind is the fact that we will no longer be freshman. We won’t be the hot, new girls anymore. We’ll be the aged, probably sometimes bitter girls, giving bitchy looks from the corner of the party to the fresh meat. I’m much too young to be thinking like this! I’m only 19, damn it! But, there must be perks to being older. My own space? Own parties? A set group of friends and an overall better sense of what’s going on? Yes, those are all good things.
Again, my mind moves to boys. I try not to get too carried away though. I try not to have too high expectations of anything or anyone. I don’t know if this is a good thing or not, because on one hand it can prevent me from getting hurt (although it usually doesn’t) and on the other, it could prevent from some opportunities…hmm. All of this, of course, is because of Jake.
“The Jake Series,” that’s what I call it now, really seemed to do me in. It was no after school special, where everything works out in the end. It was a whole series. There wasn’t just one episode where the lead character, me, had a little tiff with her boyfriend slipped up. Week after week, ups and downs (lots of downs). My own little The O.C. with me (Marissa) and Jake (Ryan) breaking up and then getting back together, but only to last for a couple episodes before another conflict, usually a person, would tear us apart. Well Marissa and Ryan didn’t end up together. She died. Jake and I didn’t end up together either, and thank God, I didn’t die (although it hurt so badly sometimes that I thought I would), but our love did.
See what I mean? Stop! Stop it, Shar! No more talking about Jake. I’m sure he has his mouth full of Chicken’s breast right now. Ha, get it? Perhaps as a result of my slight obsessions, my love life was disappointingly dry this summer. While I came home to Chicago assuming that I would have a sultry, almost forbidden summer romance (definitely O.C. style) with the boy who I’m not talking about anymore, I found out quite quickly that my Fabio romance novel fantasy would not be happening. So basically, I made out with the grand total of one boy this summer. I know, I’m a freaking stud. Well one, and perhaps another boy, but I’m not sure. He was a boy that a friend had a crush on and I got some shit for it, but I honestly don’t remember and don’t believe it happened. I don’t think anyone knows for sure. And because of this I will not count him. My motto is if you don’t remember it, it didn’t happen. Sounds like an in denial alcoholic in the making to me. Woo-hoo!
Posted by Casi at 10:48 PM