STUPIDITY. I suppose.

So, I'm a college student.

Yes, I'm bringing it up again, it's part of the blog. So hush.

Anyway, I am a student of veterinary medicine. I have to take dozens of courses in anatomy, zoology, biology, chemistry, and all sorts of other classes that end in y. (Physics-y?)

Anyway, all of these science and math courses add up to one enormous pile of zitty, sweaty palmed stress. I have to study for all of these classes, as well as build up experience in all sorts of animals. I must get perfect grades, as well as a number of other things to prove my 'roundness' as a student. There are 28 veterinary schools in the country, and I intend to get into one of them.

However, I attend what is known as a 'Liberal Arts College'. I don't mind that the school focuses on more than simply the sciences- it varies the people who attend it, it gives me opportunities to meet professors who interest me, and gives opportunities for classes that I wouldn't choose or be able to take at other, career driven colleges. HOWEVER.

THIS DOES NOT HELP ME.

I want to be a Veterinarian. I do not want to be a philosopher- so why is philosophy a required course? I do not want to be an artist- so why is an arts class required? I do not want to be a musician- so WHY is a music course necessary? I DO NOT WANT to be these things- so WHY MUST I LEARN ABOUT THEM?

I enjoy learning about them. I sing all the time- just ask my roommates. I draw (terribly), and I love reading Socrates. HOWEVER.

I am not interested in learning about them now. I need to take science courses- I can't afford to divvy up my attention between Organic Chemistry and The Art of Listening. I need to focus on what I am to become- not on what other people deem important to me as a 'young adult in need of preparation for the harshness of life'.

I'm sorry, this is going to be a short entry- my Quidditch team is dragging me to see Paranormal Activity 3. I just need to shout my frustrations with scheduling to the Internet sky.

OH LOOK A KITTY

It's Just My Insecurities, I Suppose

So, I'm in college.

You know, if you hadn't noticed from my previous entry.

Anyway, college is known for many things- idiocy, lasting friendships, studying, making or breaking careers, and parties.

Mainly parties.

And, as a college student of a vast two months, I've experienced four parties. Not a lot, to be sure, especially when compared to the frat boys who happen to throw parties nearly every night. I, however, happen to be what I like to call a high-functioning introvert; that is, I don't necessarily need other people around to enjoy myself. I like solitude and having time to myself, and living in a room with three roommates instead of just one (I'll explain it eventually) does not often afford me this opportunity.

I enjoy having a room to myself, listening to my music out loud, playing my guitar, reading books, occasionally losing at solitaire. I'm not a hermit, though, I do happen to like people (most of the time). But I have this ridiculous social anxiety problem that acts up if a lot of attention is on me, or if I embarrass myself, or whenever I interact with people in general. Usually this can be cured with the presence of a good friend to just sit with me and talk to me about ridiculous things; I once had an attack at a marching band rehearsal and a section leader took me off the field and sat with me for about twenty minutes, just chattering about the TV show Doctor Who with me. I was fine afterwards. Embarrassed, to be sure, but I could (literally) breathe again.

Now, imagine throwing this person into a raging party where drunken frat boys grab handfuls of ass whenever they see the chance and talk to my boobs instead of my face.

Yes, I can imagine you don't see it ending well either.

I can handle these parties surprisingly well, however; I have not had a single attack, I play mother to two of my roommates,  I creep on idiot drunks and chortle at their silliness. I happen to be the person who doesn't drink- I'm not a religious nut, I don't frown upon the use of alcohol, I am not a spy going to parties with the intent of reporting them to the administration. I simply hold dear the belief that I embarrass myself enough sober and my awkwardness needs not the supplement of alcohol to increase it tenfold.

I also just don't like the taste.

But in any case, this leaves me at the mercy of remembering every single tiny little thing that happens when I attend a party.

I remember every drunken pass at me, I remember the people who insult me, I remember every person who slides up behind me and attempts to resemble (what I can only imagine to be) a horny chihuahua who has just found himself a very sexy leg to hump.

It turns out that sometimes alcohol messing with memory may be a blessing as much as a curse, because the majority of the next day, for me at least, is spent trying to forget the people who I have had, well, encounters with.

I suppose the fact that people do look at me like I'm attractive should boost my confidence, but for me it only makes me feel less desirable. It makes me feel like a walking, breathing set of assets (I don't say talking because talking doesn't seem to actually matter to drunks all that much).

You see, I have never felt particularly attractive, ever. I'm not skinny, by any stretch of the imagination, and this doesn't bother me. My face is OK, but not fantastic. My eyes are green, which I enjoy, and my nose is not enormous or too tiny. But I have cheeks which can only be compared to chipmunks and my hair NEVER EVER BEHAVES MY LIFE IS MADE SO DIFFICULT BY THISSSS

Anyway.

I have big boobs, which I say without any shame or self-conceit; that's just the way it is. This is not a blessing at a party, especially for the socially awkward me. I have a difficult enough time flirting when the victim of my awkward conversation is sober and actually showing interest in more than my sweater puppies. When at a party and the other end of the dialogue is drunk and I can't be sure exactly what he is interested in, it makes it ten times more awkward.

I suppose learning to deal with this and teaching myself to sift through these come-ons is a fact of life that may one day earn me a legitimate relationship. For now, it is another on the list of endless things that make me uncomfortable at parties- for the full list see below*.

I have learned through many awkward situations that I am most comfortable in a setting where I am sure of myself, with a few friends who I know actually enjoy talking to me (seriously, drunken frat boys, is this really that much of a foreign concept?). Maybe this means I will avoid parties from now on- or maybe it means I'll be throwing myself into more of them, trying to prove to myself that I am more than my awkwardness.

It's college- I'm allowed to be indecisive a while longer, right?

List of the Obnoxious:
-Humpy Chihuahua Men
-Drunken Come-ons*
-Drunken Passes
-Talking to the Ta-Tas
-Disgusting beer-coated floors
-Humpy Bulldog Men (A bit more stubborn than those of the Chihuahua breed)
-The Smell
-My Smell afterwards
-Talking to the Badonkadonk (This really does happen)
-Grabbing of the Badonkadonk
-Humpy Great Dane Men (You know, the really tall ones? It's like they're trying to have sex with my back. Seriously.)

PICTURE OF A SILLY KITTY
(It makes me feel better. Humor me.)