I'm somewhere in-between. Although, according to everyone else, that's not acceptable. I'm supposed to be some senior overexposing myself to the "last spring semester I'll ever have." I get that, I do. I just can't part with the feeling that I've grown out of Athens. I'm antsy. Twitchy. I can't sit still.
But I do still sit at a sticky bar stool, on a Sunday night. It's well below any temperature that I can convince myself to put my contacts in for or swipe on some make up or wear anything other than a chunky, thick sweater. Yet, here I am. Sitting with the dear friends I've made that talked me into going out on a Sunday because, "No school Monday equals Sunday Funday." They made a charade out of it, playing dress up with me earlier after offering to wake me up with some bronzer and a pop of the right eyeliner.
We sit at a table off to the side that I'm surprised we were able to snagged. It's wall-to-wall, shoulder-to-shoulder, standing-room-only. I tune out the "I can't believe we're seniors, let's take a lot of shots" conversation and become heavily engrossed in people-watching, catching some tiny brunette with her blonde friend in tow. They make a bee line for the bar, squeezing between some guys already waiting for drinks. Smiling unapologetic, trying to look like they fit in with a mature crowd.
I get it. I was them once. But maturity wouldn't be suggested from their mini-skirts with thin, black tights for coverage. And that cotton cardigan is not a coat. They shouldn't be here and yet, I can't help but envy them. They aren't in-between, they're exactly where they should be - and I want to go home.
"They aren't in-between, they're exactly where they should be - and I want to go home." I absolutely love this line! You just summed up what it feels like to go out sometimes as a senior. This whole piece is an accurate assessment of what it feels like some times to be a senior. I like that you recognize that this is a culture you were once part of, but you are still able to take a step back and look at it. I love your writing style and everything about this!
ReplyDeleteI love your thoughts on maturity, Samantha. One thing I particularly enjoy, is the use of contrast in your piece. "I can't sit still.---But I do still sit at a sticky bar stool." This really makes the piece lively and it suits the "in-betweeness" you are feeling. Short and succinct. Awesome sauce!
ReplyDeleteThe idea that you're now more comfortable than the people you're watching, but that somehow they belong more than you is a really interesting one. Is this a place for being gawky and for trying things out? And not a place for maturer folks?
ReplyDeleteAnyway, the essay takes a surprising turn there. Instead of just slandering the women in tall shoes, you end up saying something a little more complicated. This seems a little undercooked, though. I'd like to see more thinking about the above oddity.
DW