More than Academia

There is more to College than grades and academia.  Point blank.   It is important to shave time from our schedules to engage ourselves in the company of our friends.  Remember this; they do not teach you this in freshmen seminar.

Earlier this week I sat down with a friend for lunch, but it was not at our beloved Sadler, or Caf, but in her dorm kitchen, where she cooked and prepared lunch herself.  Meal plans, while a bit glamorous in their allure (I mean, who doesn’t love having food ready and prepared), are not the only option.  As shown in the pictures below, it is possible to prepare appetizing entrées.

She is quite skilled in culinary arts.

And last night, some hall mates and I went out and had dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings.  It was like a scene from the nonexistent-but-soon-to-be-written novella, The Italian House Tales.  Great people, great wings.  The best part of the night, though, was when we were all getting into our cars and the driver of my vehicle started playing Ke$ha.  Now we all know what happens when Ke$ha stumbles her way into the ears of the collegian.  Pure ecstasy.

Both cars erupted into complete chaos, and everyone started dancing.  I opened the sunroof of my driver’s car and hung out of her sunroof, while fist pumping to “Your Love is My Drug.”  Our friends from the other car jumped from their seats and started parading around us, and even the passersby intermittently jived and whooed.

After returning from our rave in the parking lot of Barnes and Noble, some of the Italian House-inians and myself continued the disco in their own room.  We only had thirty minutes before quiet hours, and we were going to dance every minute away.  I have provided a video below:

Later in the evening, I reflected on the entire night, and day, with my remarkable RA.  She agreed with me whole-heartedly that College is not solely an academic ladder.  It is an entire experience that contains a mere fragment of what we call “classes” and “grades” (though, these things are crucial, do not get me wrong).  The spontaneity of a parking lot Ke$ha jam is what we ardently live for—that  “in the moment” feeling that envelopes itself around us, shielding us from the stress of Blackboard reading assignments, advancing application deadlines, and the worry of tomorrow.

As said by Charlie in Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower, “And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”