Homecoming Shenanigans

With senior year fast approaching, and Homecoming being so early this year, I thought this throwback picture would be appropriate.

It’s pretty cute and candid, if I do say so myself.

BUT. The reason it belongs here, on a blog all about my floundering through college social activities, is what we were actually discussing when this picture was snapped.

Laura and I went through a phase first semester last year where we would order pho, drench it in Siracha, eat it on the floor of our room (much to our house mom’s dismay), and watch old Disney movies on Netflix.

A few nights before the picture in question, we had watched Hercules with our chicken and tofu pho.

So, during Rock the Vote, Laura and I held our big “Reign with Ray” posters curled up on our chests, whipped them open like a flasher’s trench coat, and said “Hey, you want to buy a watch?”

Over and over and over.

And over.

Now, if you haven’t seen Hercules in a while, the line from the movie is actually, “You want to buy a sundial?” We updated it. You know, for modern times.

So that’s how Laura and I got the cute Homecoming picture, by pretending to be skeezy back ally dudes selling stolen watches from the depths of our trench coats.

Angst

In fifth grade, I went through as much of a “punk” phase as you can when you’re eleven. I had red streaks in my hair (Crayola washable markers. Hard core, I know), and wore black t-shirts with things like the Cheshire cat on them. I had black converse with the word “boobs” written on them. You know, for shock value. I listened—nearly exclusively—to Simple Plan, Good Charlotte, and Taking Back Sunday.

Now, don’t misunderstand. I was a happy, well-adjusted, bubbly kid. I just also thought I was cool.

In the summer after sophomore year of college, my high school friends and I decided to take some pictures of ourselves in dark, dark makeup with angsty faces. It was just for fun, and we didn’t post them anywhere.

However, mid junior year, I decided maybe… Maybe eleven-year-old Jacky had the right idea. That style is cool. It must be. Look at Avril Lavigne! She’s like mid thirties and still rocking it.

I pulled out those pictures we’d taken, and sure enough. I was just as cool as I thought. I added some sweet effects and craaaazy filters, and voilà: punk/goth Jacky was back.

I blasted my old you-don’t-understand-me music and let the angst flow through me. I texted a few of my friends, informing them of my dark transformation.

The general response was, “Jacky. No.”

THEY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ME. THE WORLD IS AGAINST ME.

Ah, darkness, my old friend….

After about 45 minutes, I got hungry and abandoned the endeavor. Maybe I’ll try again and finally pull it off in my late forties…

BANANAS B-A-N-A-N-A-S

In celebration of the blog’s rebirth, I’ll start out with a doozy.

Boys are tough. I’m not what you would call a “natural” when it comes to flirting or dating. To those of you who know me, I imagine this comes as no surprise. I have heard my friends say “dammit Jacky” too many times for me to count while I struggle to maintain some sort of normal conversation with a male.

On the night of my 21^st birthday (the day before Halloween), I was dressed in a giant foam banana suit. I understand that some may think of this as a faux pas in itself, but I rocked it. So those people would be wrong.

My only concern with the banana suit was that my hair had to be tucked into it for the full effect. I didn’t like the idea of my hair being matted against the back of my head and out of sight all night. I didn’t want to look like a boy. However, with my best friend Laura by my side as a bunch of giant purple grapes (see picture below), I figured it would have to be okay.

Our first stop that night was a preparty at some of our guy friends’ house, where they promptly popped four of Laura’s balloons. We’d convinced another girl to be green grapes and one to be an apple. We spent the preparty coming up with fruit puns and partaking in various other very college activities. Some of the puns were as follows:

• “Wow our costumes are grape.”
• “Orange you glad I’m a banana?”
• “Damn. You’d make some fine ass sangria.”

We then proceeded to the bar. I urgently asked the bouncer to take a reeaally good look at my ID because “IT’S REAL. REALLY. IT’S MY BIRTHDAY. BIRTHDAY BANANA. BANANA BIRTHDAY. TWENTY-ONE YEAR OLD BANANA. VERY RIPE.”

We went in and meandered to the outdoor patio/bar with a dirty Shirley in each of our fruity hands. I was mingling with my fellow produce, when a boy came up to our Fruit of the Loom corner.

I still have no idea who he was, and the conversation was brief.

It began with him asking, “So…. What are you?”

I answered quickly and rather panicked, “Oh, I’m a girl!”

…

The conversation ended there.

At that moment, I must have thought that my hair (which was still tucked out of sight) would be the only characteristic I had that could possibly help someone distinguish my gender. Now in hindsight, I understand that he was referring to my costume.

So if you’re reading this, Mystery Halloween Boy, sorry I made things weird. In my defense, I was clearly a banana. That should have been obvious, and I’m offended you couldn’t tell.

Wrap Up, Shout Outs, Love

As this semester comes to an end, and I am officially out of all of my major social faux pas (at least the ones that I can post on the internet without too much shame), I can’t help but remember how great freshman year was.

I remember being so scared before school started. I’d lived in the same town my entire life. The friends I had senior year were the same ones I’d had through elementary school, middle school, junior high… I couldn’t imagine leaving them.

I’m amazed by how unbelievably blessed I was to have such wonderful roommates. I don’t think I would have made it at SMU without them. So, Rebecca, Liz, and Alex, thank you so much. We were all so different, but that only helped our relationships. I can’t imagine my life without you three.

Rush and the time I’ve spent in Tri Delta would be so much less all around if it weren’t for the girl who I forced to be my friend after she slept through rush. So holla atcha Laura. This girl hates emotions, so I won’t go on too much, but if you find a friend like Laura, hold onto her. Her positive attitude and kindness are so rare.

Haley and Steph, sophomores at the time, influenced me more than they know. They made me fall in love with Tri Delt, and helped me maneuver through all my awkwardness.

I also managed to make it out of freshman year with a great guy friend. Nick, you rock. Thanks for looking out for me.

To the SMU community as a whole–thank you. Thank you for a great college experience so far.

To the current college freshman–enjoy this year. It goes by so quickly. It’s the best time to figure yourself out. It’s the best time to try yourself out. Find out what you can do. What you love. What you hate.

Through all my experience of being ridiculous, my advice to you would be to try to be the most genuine you, and find the people that help you be that person.

Have so so so much fun.

(And obviously get great grades, because that is, in the end, what college is for.)

FIGHT NO WAIT DON’T

I was tanning at my grandmother’s when I noticed that there were two big green lizards like 3 inches from my face on the wall next to me.

So naturally I whipped out my phone to Instagram a picture of my little tanning friends.

They started bobbing their heads–yes, definitely some sort of communication happening there.

Then they began to basically eat each others’ faces or make out–who can tell the difference, really?

Which of course I encouraged and videoed.

That was probably fine, but sending it to literally everyone in my contacts may have been less okay.

So encouraging animals to fight, freaking out when they actually do, videoing the whole thing, then sending it to LITERALLY EVERYONE isn’t really okay.

Literally never cleaning ever.

So this faux pas actually carried over into sophomore year, but started last year.

My roommate and I were always darting in and out of the room, so we never took the time to actually hang up or put away the things were left behind when we sprinted out of the room. It just all ended up piled on the floor, chairs, or sofa.

We would trip over the same shoe five times and still not put it with its partner in the closet. That spot on the floor had become its home. It lived there now.

I could never find anything.

When I wanted to actually sit down somewhere, I would have to go into my suitemates’ room (holla atcha Liz and Alex).

I wouldn’t even think about it until someone that wasn’t my roommate would come in. Their reactions were often something similar to “Oh my god” or “What. Oh.”

Clean your room.

Or don’t.

I mean, I still don’t, so.

Paula the Opossum

I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to bring a stuffed animal to college.

I mean, it’s like…fine…to do that probably.

Mine was–okay IS–just a little more rough than the typical childhood teddy bear.

When people came in my dorm and saw Paula, they’d often try to help me justify it by saying things like “well, I mean, if you’ve had it for a long time, then like… I get it.”

I probably should have let them think I had Paula since I was three.

But, of course, I didn’t.

They were less willing to justify her when I told them I got her when I was 17.

I’m also realizing as I write this that I’m referring to Paula as “her.” That’s probably another faux pas within itself.

It also doesn’t help that I’m from Arkansas. I made a stereotype out of myself. Oops.

But

Transitioning into college is tough. Leaving home is tough.

If you need to bring whatever your version of Paula is to help, then do.

But like

Opossums are kind of gross.

Mmmmmmilk

My suite mate Liz was in a photography class, and had the assignment to tell a story in 10 pictures. I was more than happy to volunteer to be photographed. I love fun assignments like that, so I was so excited.

Even though the story was of me drinking expired milk.

Now, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t help your friends with their assignments.

Do help your friends with their assignments.

BUT maybe take into account that some of those assignments will be presented to a class full of people that you don’t know.

Pictures of you pretending to throw up will be shown to strangers.

So.

Keep that in mind.

Theme Parties

For the most part every party and date dash first semester is themed.

Which is fun.

But in high school, any time we dressed up, we looked ridiculous. I never put thought into also trying to look good.

So when I got invited to a “Cops and Robbers” themed date dash, my first instinct was to look…
well….
like a cop…
or a robber.
Not to look hot and add a sheriff’s badge.

Apparently you’re at least supposed to be able to tell I’m a girl.

But, like, where’s the fun in that?

Hair Mustaches

This probably should have been obvious.

The hair mustache is a good snap chat or rough selfie, but when it becomes such a habit that you absentmindedly do it during class, while studying, or while at a party, it gets less funny and more weird.

People will laugh at first and saying things like, “oh Jacky, you’re so weird” with a chuckle.

But then the laughing will stop, and it just become–“God Jacky, you’re so weird….”

So I guess, just let the jokes die when it’s time.

Don’t be the weird girl in Fondren with her hair wrapped around her face.