Oh hey. You again. I am psyched to see you. You think I'm being sarcastic because of the seemingly unenthusiastic use of periods here, but it's really not that. I really do want to hug-you-via-punctuation right now but I can't. You see, this week, Dartmouth decided to slap my soul in the face. Twice.
First? "Senior Tails!!" Thanks 2011 Class Council. I needed to know I was a senior. No, no, I get that you think I'm excited about free alcohol, really I do. You'd think I would be. But the minute you put the word "Senior" in the title of the blitz, you might as well make the subject "Senior Wake!!" You've ruined exclamation points for me. Forever.
Second horrifying moment? "IMPT: Ring Ceremony." Yeah? Is that IMPT? Like it's October. I don't need my class ring right now. If the month of June ever manifests (IT WON'T), I'll rock it. But I don't need it constantly reminding me of my impending doom. So all I have to say to you, 2011 Class Council is STOP TRYING TO GIVE ME BOOZE AND JEWELRY. IT HURTS MY HEART. (And stop trying to make me wear business casual to everything. You are quickly becoming my least favorite.)
Anyway, because of these reality-check shenanigans, I've lost all will to deviate, so I thought I'd actually stay on topic this week. So, reality. In the past three years, I have seen at least four Dartmouth students use some variation of the Facebook album title "Is this real life?" Perhaps this is a common recourse when all the expressions that start with that term's letter have been exhausted (10WhyDoesThisTrendNeverDie), but this fad inadvertently speaks of a larger truth about Dartmouth. It does not prepare you for the real world. Sure, you get a great education and a job in finance and lifelong friends blahblahblah. Doesn't matter. You leave here somehow even less prepared for adult life than you probably were senior year of high school. And no, I'm not just talking about our prompt arrivals on the blackout train; the causes of our future failures are much more subtle than that. So here are some of the nuances that make Dartmouth special that, if you hang on to, could make you seem "special" when the four years are up
BLITZ: "---You wrote: I can't stop crying"
First, freshmen might say "e-mail." But so do real people. If you cannot accept this, you may put quotations around the term for a smoother transition. Better? Ok.
Second, when "e-mailing" your boss, do not write it like this:
"Subject: What would you think if
I take 5 vacation days this month?"
Real people do not read e-mails as one fluid thought starting in the subject line. You will thus sound like you have both ADD and an oddly insensitive need to impersonate foreigners. Next "e-mail" you send will thus read:
"Subject: Do you know
Where to apply for welfare?"
PONG: Three for suicide pact?
The saddest realization of all is one you may have already come to during Thanksgiving break of freshman year: pong does not exist in the real world, only "pong." "Pong" is properly labeled "Beirut" (07SoHighSchool), but people who "e-mail" call it "pong." The only practice any of us have for this B-sidest of all B-sidery is during the first 30 seconds of a pong game. So we all suck at it. Luckily, very few people in the real world care as much about "pong" as we do, so they may not even notice how abysmally you estimate distance. This is the most tragic reality there is. Drinking games are now "fun," no one wants to do a series, no one will draft you in a Fantasy Pong League (can this be a real thing?) and you will not be congratulated for only booting twice a game. The glory days are now, kids.
ATTIRE: Everything you're wearing right now makes you look homeless.
Hey, cute penny. I like your style and/or guns. I will find this attractive/acceptable until you trade it for a cap and gown, then I will run from it. Perhaps I will run to a shoe store, as that club I'm trying to get into is not admitting girls wearing flip-flops. Wait, it's not only because of the footwear? They rejected me because I've combined the Havaianas with jean shorts and a v-neck T-shirt?! But this is my nice v-neck! Is the bar hosting some sort of formal? Wait, my formal dress is appropriate for a THURSDAY NIGHT?! And people go out on Thursday nights?!! And NOBODY rages anymore? This is not a world I want to live in.
I'm sorry, I can't go on. No, I literally can't continue in such an upside-down world. If I want to tie my coat to my friend's and leave it on a barstool, that's my mistake to make. And if that friend thought I was bringing our belongings to the coat check and isn't too thrilled by the ensuing theft? Well, I'll just tell her that coat was ugly and she needed it gone. Sorry for being an awesome friend.
But back to the point: The real world. It's like Inception. But the dream is really the reality. Which makes the basement the real world. And as long as the room doesn't stop spinning, we never have to leave.
