At Least I Still Have My Toes...

I tried to have a fun night out with some of the girls who lived in residence last year this evening, but things didn't go quite as planned. What I thought would be an exciting ladies night spent talking, hanging out, and celebrating a birthday, turned into a huge party that I couldn't deal with. It's not that I can't deal with people drinking...if you go to college you get used to it. It's not that I couldn't deal with the noise...I've been to plenty of rock concerts. It's not even the fact that by the time I got there most people were drunk...it happens.

What bothered me the most is the fact that most of these people were inadvertently breaking the rules. Drunk people have no sense of right and wrong, and I kept seeing people walk in and out of the rooms with beer in their hands, both in open containers and glass bottles. In residence, this is a big no-no. It was overwhelming...by just being there I felt I was putting my integrity on the line...both my job integrity and my moral integrity.

So I left.

It actually really hurt to do so. I so wanted to just have a nice night with the girls. All last year while I was underage I couldn't go out with the girls and even being in their rooms made my RA suspicious of my behaviour. Now that I'm legal, I have responsibilites to deal with, and a certain standard for myself that I wish to keep. I wish people didn't think that they needed alcohol to have fun. I mean, I'm not going to lie...a drink now and then is enjoyable, when you're hanging with friends and having a good time. But drinking for the sole purpose of getting wasted? I don't see the point.

Lately, I've had a few people in my life come to me with problems. Be they big or small, I've started telling them the exact same thing. I kid you not, this is what I tell them:

"Look on the bright side. At least you weren't kidnapped by a group of tree-dwelling, toga wearers who cut off your toes and deep fried them for their appetizers."

It's time I started listening to myself. As sad and upsetting as tonight has been, I can happily go to bed knowing that I have not one, not two, not even five, but all ten of my toes firmly in place.

Catch y'all on the flip side.

(P.S. If someone out there is reading this and legitimately doesn't have toes, I'm sorry to use that as an example. Please accept my apologies and choose another body part to be thankful for.)