People, everywhere, half of whom you'll never see again. Every day. Possibilities? Endless. Girls? Everywhere. Dating? Well, I have some options, but nobody does that freshman year. There's pros, there's cons.
Scenes change fast. H is my roommate, S is a guy from 20 minutes from me, Y is a funny fraternity guy from Connecticut. H and S want Y to get them into his parties. As do I. H and S think they're hardasses. But really? Nope. I don't have expectations of partying, but rather, an interest and I'm happy with that. There's more to life sometimes.
That's our group, for now. Y's got my back, I think. Cool guy, fucking hilarious. But I've got to be moving on. Scenes change fast. Breaking free of this group of H and S and Y, getting involved with Y is my goal. My floor guys are chill and fun to hang with but I can't let them hold me back. What happens when I go to lunch or hang with A, a cute flight girl from California? Jealousy. I'm pretty sure S and H haven't actually talked with a girl this whole month here. Just kidding, H studied math, once. Y gets all the girls and he's hilarious and slightly awkward and not a hard ass. Funny how things work.
Trying to work my way into the group of sophomore and upperclassman flight guys. They know everybody, they have the house parties, they have the connections and the expertise. Being in what is essentially a class of sixty has its perks. It's tight. Well, I'm probably in a class of less than sixty. A handful of these pilot guys are weird as fuck. Airplane nerds, we call them. Won't look you in the eye, probably mildly autistic. All pilots talk about flying. When they enter the conversation? It's a dick measuring competition. "Oh yeah?" is a common line for them. If I had a common line, it would be "Get a life." No, I don't actually say that. Gotta stay on good terms with all people. Even if they're weird as fuck. But they're a minority. There's much more to life than airplanes.
Failure. I've already experienced it. I've already called my mom about it. She did the same thing Freshman year. Failing. Just one class and one bad exam. Recoverable. Just gotta work a little harder. Everything moves so fast and it's all too easy to fall off and let a class get away. Calculus. Actually, it's fun.
Alcohol. It's everywhere. I'm pretty sure S is an alcoholic. Where did that handle of McCormick's go that he had a few days ago? Oh well. H wants my fifth of Jameson. Pretty sure he's stolen some of it. Can't prove it. Get your own, you little bitch. Finished it off with another group of flight guys on Saturday night in another dorm. Wanted to get out of Cary. Cause the floor guys, they'll hold me back.
College is a big fucking adventure. It's easy for me to withdraw when I want, yet being able to screen and meet and hang with anyone is awesome. There's always an alternative choice to every decision you make here. Many possibilities. I love it. But I want to go home too. Two and a half more weeks. Time goes fast here. Until then, I'm moving through life at full steam.
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