I'm walking home with Gillian and Margie, my roommates. We've just eaten a yummy dinner at one of the fine Dartmouth Dining Services establishments (Food Court, I think), and we're headed back to East Wheelock in the gathering dusk.
1)I was rejected from a Greek House. Last year, during Winter term, I did in fact rush. It sounded fun, and it was only about five bucks, so I went for it.
When I got back to school this term, I was convinced that I had almost no friends. I counted in my head, and could come up with only maybe half a dozen girls I was really close to. I went over to the frat I hung out at, where I feel comfortable and safe, to sit watching TV, talking for hours and lamenting my unpopular status. I came home and kvetched to the guy who lives upstairs and always stops by, asked the boy who lives down by the River to go get consolatory ice cream with me, and blitzed my male alter-ego in Boston to tell him exactly what I thought of my miserable state of affairs. And then, from somewhere in the depths of my isolation, I realized: this isn't high school.