Sophomore Slump

Two weeks full of classes, many of which I have not attended (further proving myself worthless by the way), have gone by and already the ups and downs have kept me on my seat almost as much as last week’s episode of Passions. To personally recount the tapestry of strange and interesting occurrences one by one would only deter from what must be seen in the big picture, aka shit has been crazy like all the time, and I don’t even know what to really think at this point. I am however beginning to think that everyone both boy and girl should live in a fraternity house for one year out of their life…almost as important as everyone joining the peace corps. Though when you do it I recommend not living with 3 other guys who all have girlfriends that they use as a basis for heckling due to a comparative disadvantage in sexual activity. This of course could be expected I mean we are frat guys are we not, but the pressure to play into the frat guy stereotype only increases with each passing party…which we’ve had about an average of 2.3 per week so far. Also, the previous entry aforementioned unavoidable girl drama hasn’t been avoided just as predicted, thereby preventing me from having any fun haha. But my classes are easy, I’m never alone except when I’m sleeping or updating my journal, and I’ve been able to limit myself to Taco Bell only twice a week…when you put it that way my life looks amazing. Let us review the year thus far and I dunno, maybe compare it to last year if I’m feeling crazy.

On that luscious and muggy Tuesday in August, I set sail for the new house in Greensboro and after a brutal drive…came to my new house only to find a war zone full of beer cans and Bob Marley posters. My parents came down the next couple days and we got a bed and built the desk in and whatnot, but my room still didn’t feel right until the Hilary Duff calendar and the snoop dogg and tupac poster were hung up. Still not completely aware of it being a frat house, my pops was straight up on some lock your door if you have parties shit…I’ve seen pictures from back in the day where his boys were puff puff passing around a J-bird so I know he knows the deal anyways. After my mom bought all this shit and hooked up the house my parents headed home on Friday morning…meanwhile 4 of my best friends of all time – Dave, Sweede, Eli, and Darren got into town on that Thursday night before classes started. It was their first experience at UNCG, and from everyone’s favorite spectacle (Eli spitting game to girls, southern or not) all the way to Dave causing a scene in Carolina’s Diner, I had an awesome time. At the same time though, it was my first experience in this new frat house environment that I have only since become acclimated to. This includes partying at our house all 3 nights they were here; I’m talking parties too like random people I have no idea who they are all up in the house, which is good for everyone…I mean I know I dig it going up to University of Delaware and telling Jersey girls that I drive a BMW 3-series and that I was drafted in the 8th round by the Philadelphia Phillies. Not to say that any of my boys told some Carolina freshmen girls bold-faced lies (hahaha), but seriously they could have if they wanted to. Bottom line, nothing could be better than having my friends from Newark that I know will be around forever, and having them meet my friends from college that I know will be around forever, and everyone just chillin out.

Getting back into schoolmode, I’m not gonna lie, is similar to when you used to try and stand up on the sled going down that steep ass hill and you wiped out every time. I do my best to have these painful realizations over and over again… “your parents aren’t spending 28,000 a year for nothing”… “this is your future”… ya know all the shit you have to tell yourself. But I’ve watched too many god damn movies about people that have made a phenomenal difference in this world by thinking outside the box and actually working towards making the world a better place – rather than working 9-5 in an office so that I can at least be driving a Lexus by the time the high profile divorce and child custody battle phase of my life kicks in. And don’t get me wrong I wouldn’t change the way my parents raised me in any way at all, and I’m amazingly lucky to be in that situation, but straight up on some Beautiful Mind shit I want to be better than normal. Taking it down about 8 notches in deepness, general education requirements shouldn’t be shit to me I mean we’re talking professional bullshitting skills over here. A little harder than high school though…haha higher stakes at least, because in high school this little problem I have called non-ability to pay attention in class ever didn’t really matter.

Addressing the week in webbery report, already web weaving around campus is in full effect and the freshmen girls are making an effort to separate themselves into different groups. Group A: girls who have respect for themselves, and Group B: those girls who ACTUALLY show their boobs at a mardi gras theme party at uncg. Those lost souls in Group B then become the primary target for the American frat guy, scientifically known as frattimus maximus, and the web weaving then takes place. The primary tactic employed by frattimus maximus is to make this group B brizzle feel special and actually wanted, or in some extreme cases the group B chick will shamelessly skeet her way to the top of the slut hierarchy. Not just frat guys are vulnerable to these extreme cases; as any intoxicated young male may inquire at your local skeezy frat party, “Who are these young temptresses?” In a world where even shameless skeetery with the soberly undesirable is looked at as a positive, it isn’t always easy to bypass the temptation of going for these group B bitches…but the elite know that it takes a real man to go for a Class A babe, freshman or not. The true brave souls often take pride in defiling these girls through vicious mind games that only the sneakiest of babes would even play, but this is usually through movie portrayal like Cruel Intentions. But what if a member of the frattimus maximus species transcends the line of women who respect themselves and actually wife’s up? This scenario does indeed exist in real life, but the Group A girls are wary and suspicious of the frat guy, and the most cunning are keen to the skeet tactics applied by this dude. I would just like to put out a disclaimer that these Group A girls are rare, and the fact that they seem so unattainable only sends them up the wifeability scale. Outside factors include priorities in life, and the female race’s dedication to making things for nice guys as miserable as possible can only further drive these few good hearted soldiers towards the stereotype of the frat guy. So if you’re a girl and you get played, somewhere along the lines you may have done something that made you ask for it…not to say that I’m personally playing girls, but haha that is kinda deep.

That brings me to my closing statement and a brief evaluation of where I am in life, because the truth is this journal is about me and the sociological analysis on frat guys was an effort to distract readers from serious shit. It is kinda interesting, that going into this year there was a feeling of complete optimism; and if you think about the factors…living in a frat house environment, chillin with some of my best friends like every night, knowing that there are always gonna be people around…you would think the feeling would be completely different than the way it was at this exact time last year – going to a college 420 miles away where you didn’t know a single soul. And the feeling is different yeah, but the happiness isn’t necessarily there just like it wasn’t at this time last year, feelin all homesick and shit. The things that I loved most about this college…spending time with Liddie everyday, chillin with my 3 best friends down here Jeremy, Dan, and Steve (just us 4 dudes no girlfriends no bullshit)…aren’t a reality anymore. It’s not what I bargained for nah and it’s not what I expected either, but I wouldn’t even complain cause I’m here because my parents pay for me to be here. And those realities of last year that aren’t necessarily realities as much anymore had not a fucking thing to do with romance period…yet that’s when I was the most happy.

So I tried going to bed tonight and I fuckin asked myself the weirdest question…what does it even mean to be happy? Then I tried to think of people that stuck out to me as happy and that I hadn’t even seen sad. So I’m taking it back real old school on this one, all the way back to a certain senior year AP class I had. A lot of people should remember that one couple that was just so fuckin weird haha I mean basically groping each other during class and when they did have something to contribute to the classroom it was usually along the lines of “Can you go over the notes again? I’ve been groping my boyfriend over here, so I kinda missed that thing about cloning monkeys.” Yeah, we all clowned those kids behind their backs but when it came down to it I voted for them for best couple when superlatives time came around. And have I seen them since senior year? Maybe…is the girl due to have a son doomed to live the life of Steve Urkel in high school…another resounding maybe to that one as well…aha but the point is those kids are fucking happy so why did we ever hate on them in the first place? For me to go through the humbling experience of having more than one girl shed tears over me so far this year doesn’t make me happy nah, not at all…but to know that I even have that ability is ridiculous because maybe my happiness for me won’t ever come from meeting some phenomenal girl – judging from the past most of the best times came when my friendships were strong enough so that I really just didn’t give a fuck whether or not this girl or that girl hooks up with other guys for the sake of causing jealousy. I do sweat shit and despite being a true gangster I am not a brush your shoulders off kind of dude. So when my best friend at college Steve tells me that he’s had to tell girls that if I made them mad then they must be the one with the problem, he just helps me take one step closer to not worrying about all that bullshit. And that’s the main reason why I can’t wait to be home this upcoming Labor Day weekend, because it’s a huge comfort to know that I’m just a 7 hour drive away from some of my best friends in the world, and of course a get-out-of-drama-free card.

-josh