So there I was, at a complete loss as to what to write about for my last Mirror column ever. I could have made it emotional and nostalgic, but that would be useless. Since no one ever reads my columns anyway, no one is nostalgic but me (and I was too frustrated by writer's block to be very nostalgic at the moment). I could have tried to write about my favorite "Mirror moments," but I'm afraid that wouldn't fill up two paragraphs. I could make a post-modernist statement, saying everything by writing nothing, but my editor would kill me.
Instead, I figured I would make a Dartmouth "bucket list." Full disclosure: I didn't come up with the idea myself. One drunken night, Caroline Roth '08 told me she and her friends had made one such list, and one of the items was to get facetime in one of my columns. I was so honored to learn someone actually reads my columns that I remembered this heartwarming anecdote as I browned back in the next morning, although most details of the previous evening had been forgotten.
I tried to rent "Bucket List" from Videostop for guidance, but unfortunately it doesn't come out on video until August. So, I decided to wing it. I give you, dear Dartmouth, my bucket list:
A circuit.
One beer at every house gets you pretty damn drunk by the end of the night. And you might even make some new friends (or new enemies, as the case may be). I did my circuit for The Mirror, and it was by far the most entertaining piece of investigatory journalism I will ever undertake. What was less fun was when some big bad frat brothers (who will remain nameless because I'm tired of dealing with this nonsense) complained to me about "making them look bad" and "being mean." Boo hoo hoo. Unfortunately, this was not the last time such whining would happen.
The Dartmouth Seven.
Okay, so I haven't done all seven. Or any of them, for that matter. But I respect those who have (although there is no need to Blitz out to an entire sorority "clarifying" the seven spots because you have received "a lot of questions" -- that is just called bragging). Unfortunately, or fortunately for would-be passersby, my boyfriend does not go to Dartmouth, so no sex on the Green for me. My previous Dartmouth relationships were not of the sexual caliber that requires intercourse on the President's Lawn. However, I have completed my own "PG-13" version of the Seven with my freshman year roommate, Sarah Isbey '08. No sex was involved, but there was plenty of spiked hot chocolate and drunken photo ops.
Play pong with your parents.
Just because it's so damn hilarious. They will be shocked at how "the beer doesn't taste like beer" (although the shnozberries taste like shnozberries). And then they will get competitive, and that's when the real fun starts.
Get EBAs delivered to you on the steps of Dartmouth Hall.
I don't know why, but for some reason this just sounds really cool to me. I'm pretty easily pleased, I guess. So it's on my list.
Get on IvyGate Blog.
After every Mirror article I eagerly checked the next morning to see if what I had written might be deemed interesting gossip in the eyes of the greater community. No luck. I guess I'm really boring. Probably why no one reads my columns. Ok, I'm going to take it easy on the self-deprecation for the rest of the article. I'm starting to feel like Steph's So Dartmouth. And the sad part is, only one-half of the student body even knows who that is at this point. God I'm old.
Get wasted with a professor.
Or even tipsy will do. Because hey, they are people too, and with a beer or two they will tell you all sorts of interesting stuff.
Have sex at Bates. Or en route.
No comment.
Make friends with underclassmen.
They are not jaded, and still really like Dartmouth -- a refreshing change from friends of your own age who do nothing but bitch about how much this place sucks.
Reunite with your freshman year dorm and tell embarrassing stories.
I did this the other day, and it was great. Even better was discovering that your freshman year roommate wins the "dormcest" prize. I feel like there should be a prize for the person that lived in a one-room double the size of a closet with the person who won the dormcest prize.
Run a marathon.
Yeah. All of the drinking sort of got in the way of that.
Skinny dipping in Ledyard.
Although I can't really imagine a time when the water isn't frigidly cold (sophomore summer excluded), this is still something I would like to do for two reasons: First, it shows that you are comfortable with your body even though all that beer prevented you from running your marathon and getting in shape. Second, it shows that you have the insulation of a polar bear. Or something like that.
Stay up to watch the sunrise.
I did this once, and ended up falling off a balcony. If the memory of dawn's vibrant colors wasn't blotted out by the memory of my bloody face and intense pain, I'm sure I could tell you that it was beautiful. Try it for yourselves. Just watch out for balconies.
The Dartmouth Decade.
There is quite a bit of controversy over whether the Decade means 10 straight years of Dartmouth students, or just the ones that were there when you were (in my case '05, '06, '07, '08, '09, '10, '11). All I can say is that if it is the latter, I'm good.
Write a Mirror column that people actually read.
Well, it appears I'll graduate without ever having accomplished that one. But hey, you've got to leave some things to accomplish when that job fails and you're back hanging around campus as the "sketchy alum." I hope that's not my case, but you really never know.
Well guys, it's been real. Thanks for reading, or for pretending to read -- I appreciate it. See you on the flip side.
