This Winter Carnival felt like a fever dream, and not in a “crazy, lit, movie!” kind of way. It struck me that, after four years here, I did not truly know what Winter Carnival entailed. I was frustrated that the Polar Bear Swim was canceled, a tradition that my dad participated in during his time at Dartmouth and one that he hypes up and texts me excitedly about all winter. I was grossed out by the pathetic mounds of dirty snow melting tiredly into piles of mud around campus and alarmed by the warm temperatures that contribute to the climate anxiety that starts to worsen every winter. It felt harder to motivate myself to run down frat row in ski goggles with a Beatbox. I struggled to rally, surrounded by unrecognizable younger faces who appeared to be drunkenly having the time of their lives.
I accepted a while ago that I reached my Dartmouth social peak sometime during sophomore year. I was able to drink without waking up hungover, commit to every tails theme and show up to every sorority meeting grinning ear to ear and ready to use up my social battery. Now, I feel jaded when I step into a basement and strobe lights attack my senses and sweaty bodies clamor around me. I know it’s senior year and I am supposed to be making the most out of it all, but my face can’t hide the fact that I don’t find the social scene fun anymore — it’s rather hierarchical, misogynist and insular. I can’t pretend to do a full face of makeup for myself and skip to a frat to be surrounded by girls I’ve known since freshman year begging for the douchey sophomore on door to let them in. I can’t force cheap vodka down my throat to stimulate myself to be talkative and outgoing so my friends don’t think I am being boring or aloof. I can’t muster the energy to care about the social life here, and is that a bad thing? Dartmouth has made me an introvert, and I’m not mad about it.
My favorite social memories here are not from the crazy nights out that I have had. They are from the thousands of laughs I have had while rehearsing for plays. They are from making rigatoni and watching Glee at dinner parties, my mouth stained with red wine and sore from giggling so much. They are from staying up to listen to Taylor Swift’s re-recorded albums with my freshman year friends and crying to every single song screaming that no one will ever articulate feelings the way Taylor does. They are from spontaneously jumping in the river in the heat of August with new friends from sophomore summer improv. All these memories remind me how every term teaches us over and over again to trust the process.
This week at Mirror, we embrace a range of topics centered on social culture. One writer reflects on her female friendships this Valentine’s Day, while another highlights the differences in the social culture between athletes and NARPs. One writer spotlights Stinson’s, and another two detail how social spaces plan themed events. One writer showcases the challenges of couples in long distance relationships this Valentine’s Day, while another reflects on self love. Finally, one writer recounts the history of live music on campus, one highlights where students enjoy going on dates and another spotlights students who choose to take fifth-years.
I feel a deep nostalgia in the closeness of the community here and it can be easy to lose sight of that amongst the intensity of the going out culture here. I know that no frat basement will ever feel as new and exciting as it did sophomore year and the enthusiasm of my peers to get to know me will never be as fresh or feel as authentic. Sophomores are the main characters and everyone knows it —and that’s okay. Time reveals people’s true colors, and I’m grateful for the ones that have stayed with me.
