Hey all you new freshmen and prospective students who grabbed this paper on a campus tour! I'm Hopkins's one and only Party Girl! I've been an undergrad at this school for six and a half years and on academic probation for three. I've been a member of and kicked out of every sorority on campus (Theta twice) and therefore have snorted, sucked and drunk everything you can name as well as some things you wouldn't wanna name. And I'll put it delicately: I've had more bone in me than a spoiled puppy. I'm graduating from this joint by the skin of my teeth -- in short, I'm qualified to give all the advice you'll ever need to make college friggin' sweet. So without further ado, here we go.
Homework and work in general is for chumps. The way I see it, there are enough easy classes in this place to graduate in under seven years and never actually work - I'm living proof. You take five classes a semester, pass the two that happen to be easy, fail the two that happen to be hard and in seven or so years, hey! Diploma time, babies.
Look, if college were about getting out as fast as you can with a clean record, they wouldn't call it college, they'd call it jail. And believe me, Hopkins isn't anything like jail.
College at its worst is better than jail. I spent two days in Baltimore City Central Booking last semester on suspicion of assault with a deadly weapon. Turns out their suspicions were right; I had attacked some bro with a broken beer pitcher I'd found in PJ's. I don't remember it, but there were a lot of pictures so I guess I owe some apologies. Anyway, the food is comparable and the administration is similar but the dorms are bigger than cells and the toilets flush so stay in school kiddos. Toilet Cabernet has nothing on Franzia except the price.
College is nature's answer to poor judgement. I bet you thought you became accountable for your actions the day you turned 18. Wrong! You've got at least another four years, seven if you play your cards right (see above), of making reckless decisions with almost no consequences. Wanna have a huge party and let people roll joints with your bedsheets? Do it! Hankering to have reckless, unprotected sex with seedy strangers? Me too! How about we climb on the roof of a private building and light trash on fire? What do you think I'm doing right now!?
College is full of people who, in normal society, would be classified as alcoholics, addicts, nymphomaniacs, pyromaniacs, kleptomaniacs, rapists and sociopaths. But this is college - experimentation is the whole point. You can do, say and wear almost anything and get away with it by explaining, "Hey man, I'm in college." Try it ... if you dare.
Life doesn't stop when you think you're pregnant. At any given time, I might be pregnant. But you know what? I might have a lot of diseases or various psychological problems. I've got a wicked rash on my left leg and whenever I hear a French horn my eyes twitch pretty badly. But you can't let the little things get to you. Just get out there, have a beer and live your life. C'est la vie and carpe diem and bailamos, mami!
Life also doesn't stop when you're blackout drunk. I'm not a math major but I would estimate that I don't remember 35 percent of the total time I've spent at Hopkins. And that doesn't include sleeping. So there's a lot of memories I have only through pictures and other people's stories. Trust me, this is the way to forge a personal history. If I could clearly remember everything I've done or said, there would be nothing new to discover about myself as time went rolled on. I like mystery and excitement - it's as though life is a constant game of Clue involving mixed drinks and sexual acts instead of weapons and murder.
Plus, I can't wait for reunions when all my friends and I get together and say things like, "Hey, remember when Jackie did this?" Because, no, I don't remember. Why don't you tell me about all the inappropriate places I vomited back in the day. I can't wait to find out!
Never forget, college is the best four to seven years of your lives. It's true. Look around. This little campus may not look like much more than red bricks and darker-red bricks and that's because it isn't. It's what you make it. You could spend the next years "learning" about "society" and "yourself" and "foreign languages" if you want, but consider this: By the time we're as old as our parents, the world will be run entirely by robots, and everyone will speak two languages: Esperanto and the international language of love. That's just a fact.
Look, you need to take this campus by the balls from day one and have as much unadulterated fun as possible. Listen to no one's advice, waste no time and never say no. Every time I've thought something was a bad idea it's turned out to be way more fun than all the things I've thought were solid, sensible plans. So live a little, love a lot and ask questions in about seven years.
And remember, if you really screw up college, there's always grad school.
