You may have caught yourself wondering, what will I do in my spare time in college? You may pursue the same things as you did in high school, or entirely different ones, or – get this – dip your toes into several things but not leave behind those that you really enjoyed back in high school.
I happen to be one of those students who fall into the third category, so I decided to go to the Vagina Monologues on campus last Friday. I love acting (and performing myself) but the VAGINA MONOLOGUES? I mean, who has an entire monologue-worth to say about their vagina? Especially the guys cast who, ‘Hello!’ don’t even have one. Okay, I do know. The characters of Grey’s Anatomy. But this is not television – this is real life.
I put on my lip gloss and headed out for the performance, slightly skeptical as to how good this would be. I will admit it was not quite what I expected, in both good and bad ways. As someone who also performs on occasion, I thought a lot of the monologues lacked sufficient movement. As a viewer, I was startled, upset, felt harassed, ignorant, and provoked all in the right ways throughout the performance. It is a performance which, well, does mean to accomplish all those things, and I appreciated that it did even if I left a little frazzled.
Great, so that was Friday. Saturday, I went to our Spring Fling. I hadn’t been to a Transy dance yet this school year and so I was like, it’s free, there’ll be food, hopefully good music, and maybe I’ll find my guy friend (yes, the same one I went gallery hopping with in the other post). Perhaps I’ll even dance – in public (which is a rarity. Not that I can’t dance, I just prefer to keep my dazzling moves to myself.)
I put on the “perfect dress” – which for me automatically means that it was pink and black, in addition to its full skirt – and added my new rhinestoned grey flats. I got there fashionably late to see plenty of open space on the Beck Center gym floor. Right on time, I see my guy friend – who we shall call R. because that’s as good an abbreviation as any, and of course, because Warm Bodies’ main character goes by that and he’s pretty dapper. Another good reason is that his name actually starts with R.
Need I mention I told him I thought he looked dapper? Yeah, let’s just skip over that exchange; I’m sure it would bore you. 😉
Essentially, we sat around a faux-candle lit table for a bit, listening to the pounding music which was dismally a lot of hip-hop. A guy friend of R.’s introduced himself, and I drank a Coke. I hate Coke, but it was cold and I managed to put up with it. As for the music, I love rock. In the hour I spent there, I heard not a single rock song. Honestly, this alone made me feel marginalized. I felt like I had nothing to dance to. R., who enjoys a good rock song as much as I do, commiserated, but left when a female friend of ours whisked him off to dance.
Left alone, I may have ditched them and retreated to my room to fend off a throbbing headache. Not much later, I received a Facebook friend request from the guy who introduced himself at the dance as a friend of R.’s. I accepted, and sent him a message.
To be continued…