Leap.

In college, you don’t get a whole lot of time to sit alone, and think. It’s much too overwhelming, entirely too much to do. And frankly, there is a whole list of things I could perhaps better attend to than lay on my bed and write out everything that I feel about myself. But I do feel this is necessary, at least to some extent. SO.

I’m not particularly smart. This might be my context talking, and maybe this place has given me this ridiculous inferiority/superiority complex (a feeling of being inferior whilst in the Orange Bubble, and a sense of superiority as soon as I leave, but I digress). I’m not especially insightful, nor do I exhibit the seemingly natural-born abilities of a quantitative thinker. I grew up thinking I was lucky, well-rounded. Good at math, good at writing. Only now do I really understand that it wasn’t that I excelled in both fields, it’s that I ultimately fell short in both. Excelled in primary and secondary school, played the system by its rules, and won. Landed myself in a prestige, Ivy League university, #1 no less (knocked Harvard off its spot, hollaa). Some days I really wonder how the hell I managed to do that. My only consolation prize is that I am an extremely hard worker. I have the best work ethic of anyone I know (well, almost), and it serves me decently well. 

I’m a generally happy person. I realize, now, looking back, that I have been happy for my entire life, and that is not a romanticization of the past. That is a fact, and you can ask almost anyone that knows me even decently well, and I don’t think they’d disagree. A long time ago, sometime during my senior year of high school, one of my best friends and I sat in one of our usual “deep” sleepover talks. We asked each other, if we could take certain pieces of people we knew, and create our perfect version of this composite being, what would we steal from other people? She said that she would take my happiness. I think, then, I didn’t fully understand it. Now, I think I do. It’s not at all that I am unhappy now; that’s not it at all. I’m still me, a generally happy person. But now and then, I’ll sink into a wave of unhappiness, that’s more often than not caused by unsettling feelings surrounding my environment (i.e. my social, academic life). It’s kind of difficult to explain, but in the beginning of sophomore year, I hit a sort of slump that wasn’t really noticeable to anyone. I only told two people; a girl here who’s expressed similar (albeit, much stronger) feelings, and my best friend from home. I think part of the reason was because I really built up my sophomore return to campus to be far more fantastical than it would prove to be. 

I consider myself to be pretty. Not especially pretty, of course. Nothing like some of my friends here. But I get by, enough to draw in more looks on a day that I decide to try a little harder. I am, for the most part, satisfied with the way I look. It’s not to say though, that I wouldn’t choose to change some things if I could. If you happened upon a genie, and he gave you three wishes, but only allowed you to change your physical appearance, what would they be? Easy. Skin, boobs, height. Hahaha. But really, mostly the first one than either of the second, those I’ve mostly come to terms with. And even the first one, nowadays, is more of a nagging thought in the back of my mind than anything.

I don’t go out much these days. And by out, I mean the Street. Alcohol seems to have lost its unholy appeal; freshman year, we went out a lot, at least by our standards (or, then I guess it would be a regular amount…). There is still that certain appeal of being detached from reality, but at the same time, more alive and uninhibited than before. Really though, it’s a combination of disappointing nights, bad experiences with alcohol, and the increased enjoyment and utility I get from staying in and sleeping a couple extra hours. 

I wish I were talented, and please, don’t give me any bull about how I am talented. I’m only a decent musician, can only sing recreationally, and enjoy dancing very much but can’t join any groups here because my parents didn’t put me in those classes at a young age. Talent only really means something when you excel so marvelously at whatever the hell it is you do, you can actually do something about it. As my friend here so succinctly (and perhaps too broadly) put it, “If you don’t sing or dance, you’re fucked.” Here, if you don’t sing or dance, you suffer in envy as you watch them do their thang, and then again as their involvement in those groups propels them up a certain social ladder. Connections, y’know? Not that I’m a social climber, not at all. It’s just that it’s difficult to un-see myriads of people asking too sweetly for passes to a certain club, or whatever. Some days I think it’d all just be easier if I happened to be talented in that way.

My love life has been dead for a while. I hear a lot of people around me whine about the very real possibility of “dying alone,” and all that jazz. My former roommate has the most perfect relationship that started last April, survived (and not just survived!) over the summer, and is still going strong. He’s stayed at her house, met her parents, and she’s flown all the way across the country to meet his, and everybody loves everybody. For his birthday, she treated him to a trip to Boston, where her sister lives, and they went to a Red Sox game together. Do you even get that? 5 months in, and they’ve already met the parents, gotten approval, and taken a trip together. They’ve seriously talked about marriage, and all of our friends have no doubt it’s going to happen. Like, we legit made a bet with two of our guy friends that they’d get married. The day they get married, I become $200 richer. And I’m a pretty cheap person…I just have a whole lotta faith in them. But anyway, seeing their interactions, I can’t help but feel just how single I am. It’s not that I’m looking, even, it’d just be nice to feel something, y’know? I’ve literally not had amorous feelings for anyone in years. And I know, I know, that on paper, I’m a “catch,” but sometimes I can’t help but feel that it’ll be a long time before I’m really in love. I guess, for me, it’s really just to have that thrilling experience of giddiness and suspense and whatnot. But some days I’m like what the heck, I’m way too busy to maintain a relationship, let alone put in the time and effort to get myself into one. Ugh.

We have this thing at Princeton called Friendsy. It’s this site that some Princeton students started that’s basically like Tinder, except for Princeton. You can only sign up if you have the Princeton email account, and from there, you browse, and can anonymously hit “friend,” “hookup,” or “date” for anyone you’re interested in, and you receive all the notifications that someone is interested in you (and in what capacity, too!) but they’re only revealed when you stumble upon the (very rare!) mutual connection. For me, it’s more of an occasional ego boost than really a vehicle for me to use to my advantage. It’s nice to know, though, that no matter how bleak your prospects look, that some people are interested in you, romantically or otherwise.

Holy hell this is becoming a novel. I’ll finish with a couple stupid stuff. 

Favorite songs: currently, Gone by Kanye West. I always love Thinking About You by Frank Ocean, and Latch by Disclosure.

Favorite movies: all time favorite, American Beauty. Hands down. Also good: Crash, Up in the Air, ugh lots of movies I can’t think of right now. I really do love movies.

Favorite shows: among serious/drama shows: Game of Thrones, Homeland, Scandal. comedy: Modern Family, Friends, Fresh Prince, The Office, Parks and Rec.