The proof is in the pictures...uh, videos.

            My friend Corie has been asking for months when I’m going to write about college.  In honor of my night out with her and another college-days friend tonight, I thought I would oblige.

            Discussing college is dangerous.  There are so many stories and so many people involved who don’t want their stories told.  Unfortunately, for a lot of them, I have pictures and a plethora of videos documenting our shenanigans.  But they are under lock and key and only come out every few years when I need to remember how ridiculous I was.  And I won’t share anyone else’s secrets here.  Just mine.

Starting with freshman year, Corie and I became sort of obsessed with chronicling our adventures.  We took an endless number of pictures and this was long before we had a digital camera.  I can’t imagine how much money we spent in 96’, 97’, and 98’ developing rolls of film and making collages.  My two favorites are poster-sized collections we made over 14 years ago.  She still has one.  This is mine.

            There were 7 of us in our dorm suite freshman year.  We were an insane assortment of misfits.  Actually, when we arrived, most of us were pretty docile.  We didn’t become totally impractical until weeks later.  The first month of school, I did many things that didn’t last.  I showered before class.  I rushed and pledged a sorority.  I didn’t have a fake ID.  And I did my own laundry.  By spring, I never showered until it was time to go out.  My sorority and I had reached a mutual understanding that my facial piercings and I had taken a different path.  I had some girl’s New Jersey license that couldn’t have looked more unlike me.  And I found a great Laundromat that washed and folded my clothes, though sometimes I just bought new ones instead.  Oh, and did I mention I spent an inordinate amount of time wearing a purple Dr. Seuss-style hat and the thickest hemp choker on the planet?  Yep.  Both can be spotted above.

            Anyway, along with the pictures, Corie and I started compiling a Master List of all the things we did.  We would bust out her laptop and add to it at least once a week.  I remember that laptop well.  It weighed like fifty pounds and was the only computer we had that could make a dial-up connection.  I never imagined “The List” would survive that machine.  Then, a few years ago, Corie emailed it to me.  Honestly, most of it was a blur.  There were certain things--- like the way we used a Nintendo 64 box to smuggle beer into the dorm, and how I dropped my ring through the deck slats at Backstage on Cup Night---that I remember clearly.  But so much of it was a mystery until Corie and her steel-trap mind started elaborating.  I pity the fool who thinks she has ever forgotten anything. 

            Then, as if photos, lists, and Corie’s brain weren’t enough, there are the videos.  Sophomore year, I received a video camera for Christmas.  A first-generation, Handycam-type device that seemed to roll more hours of the day than not.  We filmed everything.  Street fights.  Sunday dinner.  A spring break trip to Jamaica.  Hours of singing along to bands like Chumbawumba.  We even have footage of someone talking to an ice cream scoop for forty-five minutes.   When I moved in with my next roommate, Tracy, we continued the filming tradition.  Between our trip to Cancun, my 21^st birthday, and the purchase of a tripod, they only get funnier.  And way more embarrassing.  We simultaneously cringed and laughed until we cried the last time we watched them.

Though incriminating, I’m glad I have pictures, lists, friends, and videos to remember those times.  It’s fun to reminisce about the carefree days when our biggest dilemma was which bar to meet in or where the cutest boys hung out.  But it’s much nicer to be on the other side with those who shared it with me.  Now, I just need to make sure my kids never ever see the evidence of our debauchery.  Or listen to Corie’s (AKA Aunt Coco’s) funny stories.

Whit and Corie Fall 1996