Struggle in the wee hours

I'm fairly certain it isn't supposed to go down like this. I've seen a lot of movies about college, and television shows set in college, and browsed teen fiction discussing college (what? I said BROWSE. Not read. Not more then once, certainly.) and everything I seen has indicated that one's senior year is about drinking and dancing and having highly enjoyable if morally/ethically questionable liaisons with attractive if inappropriate sexual partners. That was the deal. Work for three years, sure, but that fourth year, man, that was going to be awesome. I certainly hadn't planned to be spending the majority of my evenings up late in my pajamas working and wondering about the function of this soft rectangular thing in my room that takes up so much space where I could be putting books or something useful. There were going to be themed parties and movie outings and shopping trips, the cw network was very clear about this.

However, since I began my senior year of not-Yale, life has just been about jumping from one struggle to the next, and the only drinking I do is medicinal. I swear. It's a solution, guys, not a problem. Where is the wildness, the freedom, the weekend trips of Cabo? Growing up watching The OC did not prepare me for this. And frankly, having caught glimpses of the new 90210 and the far Superior Gossip Girl, I have to say, those high schoolers are having a lot of fun. Those high schoolers are doing some wild things. Those high schoolers have co-opted my college dreams!

Now, granted, these are fictional characters. Sure, fine, whatever. But that doesn't change the fact that these people have more free time then I have ever dreamt of. Or would. If I had time to sleep. They are running around in very movement-inappropriate footwear, blackmailing each other and sleeping with their teachers and having pregnancy scares, just in general living the dream. The most exciting thing that happened to me this week was the extra-large bag of Terra chips I bought today. It might not beat sleeping with your step-sister after a night spent running around clubbing, but it's pretty close.

To give credit where credit is due, the truth is that I probably couldn't live that life for more then one evening without having a nervous breakdown and looking for someone to give me an assignment before I collapse. The thing about working for years on end is that when it stops you have the constant vague feeling like you should be doing something productive but you aren't. This, incidentally, is why I create reading lists for myself over vacations, and stick to them like glue. Next up? Satanic Verse. Rushdie. It's going to be a fun summer.

I understand that I am in fact lucky to be in college and living in reality (or something vaguely like it, this is not-Yale, you know), but in my fantasies I would have had at least one run in with an Italian prince/rapper whose weekend chalet in Monaco is to die for. Or, you know, a little bit more time in the day to sleep and watch The Colbert Report. Oh, well. A girl can dream.


Sad for no reason? So is Sean Fournier. Watch his video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPSISdBs7_8