My dog just pissed on my spiral notebook, so I decided that it was time to make a blog. I'm a junior at the University of Maryland. I'm trying to read and watch Sex and the City, but there are a bunch of loud drunks yelling outside my window. I will never understand why drunk people have the urge to yell "woo!" all night at a party. Coincidentally, this episode is all about how cynical Carrie Bradshaw has become. I'm not even 21 years old yet, and I can stop complaining about how over college I am. I want to go into wedding planning, and of course I am sitting through hours of Sociology and English classes for no reason. I'm over going to the sticky, crowded bars where girls viciously whisper about another girl's outfit in the bathroom line or accuse you of stepping on their imaginary toe. I've been over Greek life since I was first introduced to it at freshman orientation. I desperately tried to not be the girl-with-the-boyfriend-who-goes-home-to-spend-the-weekend-with-him-as-soon-as-class-gets-out. But this weekend I decided to give up. I don't connect with anyone here. I don't know if it's that I'm being stuck up, if I just don't fit in, or if I'm just not in the same place as in my life as others who are my age. I still have a close group of friends from high school, but that is closing in to smaller and smaller sizes by the season. If only I could be walking the streets of Manhattan with Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha.
