“Halloweekend.” Woo-hoo. I’ve been disillusioned with Halloween ever since fourth grade, when I went trick-or-treating with the classic white sheet ghost costume inspired by Charlie Brown. I had trouble seeing through it in the dark, so the neighborhood boys left me behind to maximize candy revenue. As a hint to how I felt about this — my tears made the sheet stick to my face while my dad, somewhat concerned about my socializing abilities, walked me home.
I had gotten over this by first year, when I went to my first and last fraternity party. I lasted maybe 30 minutes, and instead of tears, my sweat made my costume cling to me. I must have given a girl I met that night the wrong impression — like I actually partied or something — because she texted me another weekend asking if I was going out.
“I’m actually doing a jigsaw puzzle tonight,” I responded. “You’re free to come help me, but I’m getting this puzzle done either way.”
I enjoyed the jigsaw puzzle a lot more than the party. I take a lot of pleasure in quieter activities I can do by myself, like — and this may surprise you — writing. What I look forward to the most about Halloween now is Tim Burton’s “The Nightmare Before Christmas.”
I usually go to bed when the hour is still in the double digits. I get eight hours of sleep. I wake up every morning looking forward to my typical dining hall breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuits and yogurt. I have free time during weekdays where I don’t do anything productive. I don’t drink coffee. Am I doing college wrong? Am I too boring during the years I’m supposed to be wild?
I usually don’t worry about this too much. I’m mostly enjoying the college lifestyle I’ve made for myself, but Halloweekend can make me doubt if I’m getting the most out of my time here. I didn’t get the chance to make a costume or go out this year, but it’s not like I made it a high priority. A part of me wants crazy stories about all-nighters, wild bar escapades or a road trip to South Dakota before my graduation date — my “expiration date” — comes next year. If I don’t cram these four years full of experiences pushing myself to the edge of my physical, mental and social endurance, then when will I have this chance again? When will I ever be surrounded by such opportunity for so many different experiences, from development to debauchery?
I don’t have a final answer — like I said, these concerns still haunt me. One of the first things my RA told me when I got here was, “You can’t do everything. There will always be things you miss.”
I will take his lesson a step further and say that since you can’t do everything, you should choose the somethings that mean the most to you. For me, that’s usually sleeping, since I can’t operate when I’m tired. It’s also not alcohol because I have the taste buds of a toddler.
The best conclusion I’ve come up with so far is that I’m not boring — I’m just a different brand of interesting. I rent books from Alderman for fun. I quoted Walt Whitman in a job application. I write columns sometimes. I think it’s important to avoid discounting the experiences I’ve had since I came here, even if I don’t have wild Halloweekends. I’m certainly different than the sweaty bundle of nerves I was when I moved in over two years ago.
At least my parents think I’m interesting.
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