Who's Excited?

I am having a party. Not a tea party, or a birthday party, or an anniversary party. I'm having a goodbye party. Yes, I'm having a goodbye party despite the fact that I'm not leaving. And you are not saying goodbye to me, nor I to you. I am saying goodbye to my college. A college – I’ll note – I’ve never actually liked.

So what am I saying bye to? The rigid social structure? The taboo that has become doing anything without letters? The utter lack of originality, creativity, or even originality? The niches? The divides? The wars, the feuds, the duels, the bickering, the whining, the sheer banality found in your everyday lunch line conversation?

This is what I’m saying goodbye to: anything that sounds like the following.

Ugly Girl: “I’m so hideous.”
Ugly Girl Who Doesn’t Realize It: “I know, your teeth are awful.”
U.G.: “That’s because I look like a horse.”
U.G.W.D.R.I.: “Whatever, just wear make up and guys won’t know.”
U.G.: “Really? They won’t notice?”
Lunch Man: “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”
U.G.W.D.R.I.: “Cha, look at me!”
U.G.: “You look just like a china doll.”
U.G.W.D.R.I.: “I know. My boyfriend is so lucky.”
[Somewhere, a freshman male transfers]

That’s really it. I’m saying goodbye to that. I’m sure I’ll still be subjected to more hideous conversation in the future, because Burlington isn’t exactly a hubbub for witty banter. Like this one from line at Walmart:

Guy: You hear Latricia’s brother got shot?
Girl: Yeah, it hurts more when you’re shot in the cold.

Really? In the cold. I didn’t know that. Next time I’m shot, I’ll have to make sure I’m in my summer seasonal clothes. That way the sting of the gunshot wound won’t interfere with that light nipping that comes from the winter air.

…..

You know what? Parties off. I’m becoming a hermit.

Reminders for class: Obi-Wan was a hermit. Some argue the hermit.