College Culture and the Misguided Minds of Youth

I moved into college in northern California a few days ago.

I transferred from another university in southern California.

The school I transferred to is high in rankings- the ninth best public university in the U.S. And, well, the university I initially attended was not so great. Academics aside, it wasn’t a college town. Folks frequently dropped out to attend massage school or some other occupation. The campus or city wasn’t permitted to have sorority houses because municipal ordinances would have deemed it a brothel. In other words, I don’t know the college experience.

Right now, just several feet away from where I’m staying, a party is going on- people overflowing from the balcony, drunken boys screaming and cheering and drunken girls jabbering on. Right now, my housemate is still playing horribly crafted music about literally getting fucked and the act of fucking after I asked her to turn it down. I am binding the zines that people ordered online to mail it to them. I am getting my shit done before class starts next week.

The first few words my housemates uttered was immediately about sex. They have a lot of it,  and they love to talk about it. When they asked me, I froze. It isn’t anyone’s business who or when I have sex or if I have sex at all. That is personal. I don’t broadcast my personal life to people I don’t know and I don’t care who the fuck you are. Second question: are you a lesbian? Stupid questions. And I digress.

The tension of college life is seamed with sex. Who’s that girl in the next apartment? Is she cute? Can I come over? Her face? I did it. How can I be more attractive? Well, there’s a 24-hour gym on campus, lucky us. Damn, I’m hungry, there’s a 24-hour eatery on campus. Damn, I hate studying. Let me cheat or take your notes because I was too hungover to actually attend class.

The big question is this: why the fuck are you here?

To get laid? To get away from your mommy and daddy? To experience “life”?

This is not life. This is not reality. This is a manufactured bubble. This is a comic strip of your life that the real world does not understand. Attending class on time isn’t an achievement. Having everything given to you and then bitching about not having things work isn’t either. This is who the world, as in your world, as in your parents, your teachers, and sometimes your government, caters to. All this effort and money for a perfect, safe bubble you will never learn anything in. But have your fun!

Learning is fucking fun. It is a privilege.

So why am I sitting in my room taking a break by writing how much I hate college culture while other students are next door filling their bellies with beer? Because I fucked up. I dropped out. I’ve been arrested twice. I’ve been lost and depressed. And now that I’ve been blessed again, I don’t know what to be depressed about anymore. It’s all here in my hands. I don’t understand what non-depression feels like. And this is it. I am a solid fucking line. I am here to do my work and learn the shit I have to to “change” the world. And I’d appreciate it if you fuckers would shut the fuck up and do the same.

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