The door to my
dorm room opens, and I hear my roommate's high pitched
drunken laughter echo throughout the room. Two guys follow her in. My eyes turn to my clock and the brightness of
4:13 burns in my brain. I am between sleep and life.
"I am so trashed!" Jen exclaims gleefully.
Without the aid of my glasses or contacts, myopia blurs the scene in front of me. I see Jen's slender form pass out on her bed, mewling in her throat.
"Yo, Steve, have you ever measured your penis?"
"Yeah, I do it all the time. To make sure it isn't shrinking."
One of the two princes cuts a fart the likes of which would strip the polyurethane off of a hardwood floor. That same one falls on the floor by Jen's desk. The other one falls on Jen's bed in a heap next to her. Their voices blend together into one incoherent rumble.
"WillyoupleasejustJEN!STEVE?stoptalkingcauseIfeelsosick
andIputmybonerinmydog'smouthandFUCKTHATSHITyouaretoodamncrazy—"
I turned over once and it was morning. I knew this because one of the oafs was snoring like a buzzsaw and sunlight was beginning to filter through the green sheet that we have strung across the window in lieu of a shade. Clock dutifully tells me that it is 8:39. I roll from bed, noting Jen curled up in someone other than her boyfriend's arms and a very large man laying in the corner like a beached whale, snoring. He emits a loud fart every few seconds, after which he wakes up enough to chuckle at his cleverness.
Time passes. I sit here writing this. They are all awake, spouting their clever jokes about feces and jizz. The smell of flatulence is thick in the air.
I wonder briefly at their reasons for acting like idiots. Then I remember :
Unplug, checkout, dumb down.
The weekend seems like it will be much too long to suit my taste. I long for class, for discussions or anything to get me away from hellhole weekend dorm life.
It isn't looking like I will finish my degree in three years now. The requirements from the education department are likely to suck up at least an extra semester and probably two. It is better this way, perhaps; I would have gotten my bachelor's degree and been one of the youngest people in graduate school at age 20. I don't know if I'm prepared to meet that challenge just yet. Already, the minds that I am encountering in my upper level course work are amazing me; perhaps the extra time as an undergraduate will do me good. Then, I'll at least be a 21 year old in the master's program.
Graduate school. I'm beginning to wonder if I want to go right away at all. I'm beginning to understand why people get a job after finishing up their undergraduate work. The experience might do me some good. My problem is that I am not nearly as focused in my field as I would like to be. Getting a job would be tough under such conditions as I know I'd be likely to settle for something that I might not want.
The pressure to perform, to do something is killing me. I really need to step back from all of this. I am certain, though, that I am looking forward to being out of the dorms and on my own.