College Girl is back from Spring Break, which for the purposes of this site lasted about three weeks. I admit I am in arrears.

If you want to read some really horrible writing, I recently commented on the question of “how to avoid the friend’s zone” – not exactly my expertise, but oh well.

So, today: I prove that I can write a post that is not egocentric. Huzzah.

I came upon this topic as I sat in the basement of the library, head laid dejectedly on a thick tome (Molecular Biology of the Cell), hand resting on a spiral of index cards (bought at extortionary rates at the TCU Bookstore). My cell phone lit up with a text message from my darling Becca:

“I understand completely. It’ll be okay. Life will be good.”

Uplifting words from an uplifting person (who is my best friend from high school, kidnapped by a Baylor Bear and now living sixty miles or 45 minutes away, depending on who is driving).

As I have said before, my peers are a source of strength, and often make me a better person.

Take Rudy, for example. I was frustrated about some issues that I needed to take up with my father, and so, of course, ranted to him over dinner about it. His response was simple: “Talk to him about it.”

“Pffft” embodies pretty well my response. Perpetual procrastination would have ruled this one, had it not been for the fact that…

The next time I saw him, he smiled, waved:

“Hey! How’s is going? — did you call your dad yet?”

“Hummana hummana hummana…”

And again, a few days later:

“What’s up, homie! — have you called your dad?”

“……….”

“Are you going to?”

“….No…yes…maybe…Yes? Yes, I will….”

I began to realize that this could go on forever, and I might never hear the end of it. So, after putting it off another 48 hours, I called. It was good, fine, things are great. I texted Rudy triumphantly, and thanked him. Who knows how much nagging misery I avoided due to his friendly prodding.

He’s not the only one though. Through Becca and Charles’ unwavering optimism, I have absorbed some of the same. Charles, mentioned here before, is the one who was up until 2am on Sunday night reading a Chemistry book – that wasn’t even our text. He has somehow managed to already line up a research spot (he was over here where I’m typing this gloating a few moments ago). How can one be an underachiever with this maniacal devotion to “anything chemistry” around? Also, despair is impossible when he salutes you as he walks by.

Speaking of despair, and the pit that engenders it more than anywhere (and by this I mean the library basement), I found my friend John down there the other day. Amazingly, studying with someone is better even if it’s in the quiet area. They might have a laptop out and be able to look up words for you, or, very quietly explain the difference between competitive and noncompetitive inhibition. Even better, this friend also inspired me over lunch one day with tales from his spring break mission trip; I swear I am now going to a) learn Spanish b) go on a mission trip and c) be a better person, just for hearing it. I’m serious.

As for being a great person, my friends Lauren and Lauren have exercised this beautifully, especially last semester with their hospitality (studying in their dorm sure beats the library). Lauren (“the taller one,” as Charles puts it) demonstrated great friendliness when she insisted on being my friend, even when I was weird and shy. The other Lauren was a co-conspirator on this, I’m sure; she also keeps me from the edge of the abyss every O-Chem lab, as, at 4:02 pm, I start to wilt. She somehow manages to combine compassion and sarcastic wit. It’s great.

The impetus to self-improvement that others offer could be somewhat accidental. Last night as I left class at 7pm, a friend (who, having earlier pointed out a certain amount of false humility on my part, thank you very much, caused me to realize that the appearance of pride might need some work) asked if I was going to study Cell Bio more. “Like heck I am” was the response in my head. Yet later, as I was about to start seriously goofing off, I rethought my strategy and flipped through my flashcards, until some member of my family dragged me off to do something for them. Not bad.

Of course, I do have friends who do otherwise; I’m pretty sure Mirza is on a mission to remove any sense of decency and censorship left in me, all while engendering appreciation for horrible music. Oh, and if I fail lab, it’s totally his fault. I don’t have any worries about defaming his character here, because I have it on good word he will never read my blog. I will say, though, writing an abstract on a Saturday morning? Admirable. Not about to emulate that one though (or so I say).

Well, that’s all I have. In a salute to my current history teacher, please leave any questions, comments, observations, or short complaints – preferably related to this post – below.