Celebration Shenanigans

It seems like college, for most people, is a great achievement. Some kind of crucible that must be traversed in order to emerge from the follies of high school and be welcomed into adulthood. Like most things in life, I tend to disagree with the general population. The crucible isn't college, it's a real job. I've been working full-time as a 9-1-1 dispatcher for over three years now, and I feel like I've learned a lot more about the world from that work than I ever even tried to learn in college. Perhaps that's because college really is useless. Perhaps it's because after working forty hours a week, then taking eighteen college credits, college just hasn't been any kind of enjoyable for me. Correction, I hated my most recent college, my alma mater - The University of Arkansas. Fuck that place. I appreciated my time at the community college from which I graduated with an Associate of Arts. And despite the complete lack of freedom from the military college I attended, I learned a lot there and wouldn't trade that experience for anything - nor the people I met there. They're amazing and I'm lucky to have gotten to know each and every one of them. Even the private liberal arts college I attended in Pennsylvania was a wonderful experience. The University of Arkansas was like a hell I was required to suffer through. Having traversed the six year trail of mental endurance and successfully regurgitated useless information time and time again, I decided that after finishing my final final on Tuesday, this photo was not only appropriate, but completely necessary.

Me flipping off Old Main - the Uni's oldest building

Tuesday was my final final of undergrad, and Wednesday was my 23rd birthday. Naturally, a party was in order. Nothing big and fancy, just myself and several friends heading to the bar to get white girl wasted. Actually, allow me to rephrase. I got white girl wasted. I'm not sure how drunk everyone else got, but to be honest, that's not the only thing I don't really remember from that night. I remember my best friend Juli and I deciding before we left that we were going to go as lumbersexuals. We arrived at the bar around 9, and before the clock hit 10, I'd had at least seven different drinks, to include an Irish car bomb. I was able to convince my gracious brother that a bear fight was not something I could handle. I was barely able to handle the Irish car bomb. I'm a lightweight. Judge away.

Me as a lumbersexual

Juli and I as lumbersexuals

Typically, my hand-eye coordination is miserable at best. When I throw a Frisbee, baseball, football, or basketball, I look like a retarded kid trying to hump a goat. Sober. When I've been drinking I magically transform into some kind of super star like Kobe Bryant or Tom Brady. That's why, when Juli challenged my drunk ass to play foosball, she was wrong in thinking it would be an easy win for her. After beating her by a meager seven points, I decided to celebrate my victory with a nap. On the foosball table. This signaled the beginning of the end for me. I vaguely remember throwing up in the toilet, and my big brother Evan (thank God for him) carrying my drunk ass out to the car. I also remember trying to puke in the rock garden by our front door on the way in the house. I was probably unconscious by the time they got my into bed, because I don't really remember how I got there either. My family takes good care of me though. I woke up at 730 the next morning with three bottles of water, a sandwich, and a bottle of ibuprofen on my night stand. I promptly skipped the ibuprofen, chugged a bottle of water, and scarfed the sandwich before I went searching for more food. I've never really gotten a hangover, and Thursday was no different. Juli and I eventually went out for Waffle House for lunch, and I started on a new art project. That's right, I've graduated college and I've decided to immediately revert back to kindergarten and do some art. I've been drawing, painting, distressing and writing for the last several days. It already feels like college was a lifetime ago, but I'm glad that's not true. Mostly because, if I'm still living in my parents house a year after graduation, I think I'll just forfeit. I'm honestly not 100% sure what my next career move will be. There are a few options available to me, but I haven't been able to decide which one to pursue. I'm not in a huge hurry though. After working full-time and being a full-time college student for the last several years, I'm going to take the next month or two to just relax. So here's to the next six years! May they be filled with more adventures and less stress!