10 October 2005
“When the world keeps spinning round
I’m ridiculously happy here. This experience – sitting outside on a pensive sort of day, listening to the Alkaline Trio, typing madly – feels like it’s straight out of a cheesy WB drama, and in all honesty, I’m relishing my picturesque existence.
I’d also like to point out that I’m slowly morphing into Carrie Bradshaw. Really. We’re both indecisive writers with shoe fetishes. She even has a Mac.
I never thought college would actually be so cliché. And after spending a lifetime battling clichés, I admit that I really, really like it.
Roommate (name withheld only to irk her) and I bicker like small children, giggle like pre-adolescents at the mall and are closer than sisters. I’ve formed a circle of friends I wouldn’t trade for the world. My life has morphed into the predicted mélange of exams and late-night papers, football games, celebrating and rioting. I camped out for Dalai Lama tickets. I stood in line for Robert Rodriguez on a sweaty, sweaty day. I’ve made oh-so-frequent midnight runs to Wendy’s. I’ve been to an ’80s party, a pivotal point in any college student’s career.
Yup, my life is looking more and more like the WB.
I’m laughing as I write this – at that ’80s party, my friend Nikhil wore a mandarin-collared jacket – and as spiffy as he looked, he bore a startling resemblance to an Indian priest. Of course, the other Nikhil (yes, there are two) warrants a mention, only because he’s been fiercely demanding one.
Every moment bursts with dancing memories. As I type, I’m barraged with snippets of the past six weeks or so. (Has it only been six weeks? It feels like forever.)
Cara and I are doubled over with laughter on my bed. I’ve victoriously just finished a critical response for my George Orwell seminar. We’re sleep-deprived and semi-delirious. Roommate looks at us, perplexed. We’re not sure why my collection of Orwell novels induces hysteria. All of a sudden, our estrogen kicks in. Cara and I are assaulted by a craving for a Mocha Silken Tofu something-or-other – and we can only find it at Kerbey Lane. Roommate needs queso. Badly. Somehow, the three of us, and assorted unfortunate males, end up at Kerbey Lane.
I’m hoarse from cheering. I’m leaping, jumping, screaming. There’s a riot on Guadalupe, and I’m there, “horns up.” UT BEAT OSU!
I’m walking back from the gym with Cara. We run into a mutual friend - Chris, whom I haven’t seen in days.
“Sam, don’t you want Jamba?” he asks wickedly, manipulatively. That meanie. He tempts me with talk of Mango Mantras and Match Green Tea Blasts. Of course, I succumb to his sweet words. We head to the Jamba on the drag, verifying my addiction.
I was in my dorm room, staring at my laptop, feigning work. Two infamous boys, from a suite of some my most favorite guys, show up at Kinsolving. They talk me into emerging from my room, sans makeup (the horror) and we take a field trip to I LOVE Video and Spiderhouse (quite possibly the two most Austin-y places near campus).
I’m at home, and I still can’t tear myself away from the TV. I’m such a Longhorn. UT is owning OU. FINALLY.
And it’s really these experiences that make this college business worth the late nights, the writer’s block, that one calculus problem beyond my grasp, the agony of a too-close football game, being separated from my family.
Yeah, definitely worth it.
My world’s been spinning since I arrived on this campus. I’m upside-down, sideways, dancing, turning, feeling.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
| UT Home
| UT Directory
| UT Offices A-Z
| Campus & Parking Maps
| UT Site Map
| UT Direct
Send e-mail to Sam | For admissions information visit Be a Longhorn