rural fervor.

from an unsolicited personal introduction recently posted to the Oregon Law Class of 2014 facebook page:

Oh and I drive a huge Yukon XL with 24” Lexanis and a stereo system that will stop your heart but I am more then my obvious stereotypes and as for the truck, I have a friend with a prius and a few more that dont have cars so im declaring them as my carbon offset! LOL

Thank you sir. I feel like I know you intimately—verily to your deepest core!—since you’ve kindly [not even backdoor-] bragged about your large, wasteful, and grossly ostentatious choice in vehicles in some kind of extension of an explanation of your own person.

The best thing about this law school facebook page is I’m quickly figuring out how to recognize the people that I will want to be avoiding come class time. I know. I know that I need to make a whole new slew of college friends without the aid of dorms and forced cohabitation—which, let’s be honest, didn’t even work out that well for me the first time around—but I have standards, guys. Maybe that makes me the girl that doesn’t date the kinda loser-y guy in high school because it would be bad for her image. Maybe it makes me stubbornly unwelcoming of new and different experiences. But maybe—just maybe!—it makes me a brilliant evil mastermind who knows how to get what I want without dealing with the mountains of horseshit that I don’t.

Whatever, what else can you honestly expect from facebook? Call me when there’s a tumblr collective of Oregon Law 2014. That I could get behind.

Dear Tumblr,

This is what I did yesterday:

I may have only been to two graduations, but so far there seems to be a trend of:

1. Being one of the first in the class to walk across the stage.
2. Sitting with someone who gives a celebratory shout when I or something directly related to myself is mentioned by the speaker, which I find embarrassing as all hell, though I do wholeheartedly appreciate the explicit demonstration of solidarity. It’s just awkward when you have to stand up as it’s happening and you have somehow mistakenly found yourself in the front row despite efforts to weasel your way into the middle of the gowned crowd and on your other side is a strange guy you’ve never met before who creepily edged over into the empty seat next to you and proceeded to keep talking to you like you were old buddies. Because of course all of that happened to me.

I look trepidatiously forward to seeing what will go down at my next (and presumably final) commencement ceremony in another three years. I wonder if I’ll finally wear a black robe like everyone else on the planet…

P.S. Poli Sci grads get sweet ballpoint pens. “For voting” according to the Dept Head. All I know is my otherly-majored friends didn’t get a bonus gift. IN YO FACE, LOSERS. Enjoy your lamely colored tassels! (I’m looking at you, hot pink journalism grads! And you, mystery study that got brownish red tassels that kinda looks like dried blood!)

Okay, I’m done now.