College, a time for experimentation

As my fourth year of college begins to wind down to a close and the grains of sand dwindle through the hour glass of my undergraduate career, I begin to reflect upon my life.

I wonder if I've lived each day to the fullest. I wonder if I can be proud of what I've accomplished. Then I wonder why you can't understand what snuffalufagus is saying? Man, that gets me. I was annoyed when I was 6 and I'm annoyed now, when I'm... older than six. But I digress...

I wonder if I've had much of a life. I wonder if I've enjoyed much of the "college experience". Now, now, before you get all in a tither, let me qualify my last sentence. I was a veritable commuter student my first year of college, so that was little more than another 12 months of High School.

I guess I did have a lot of fun my first year here at Baylor. But that was fun in the Super-Christian summer-camp kind of way. It was very much a blur of "Hi! My name is Neil. No, I'm not interrested in going to Antioch"'s, evenings in Spencer's room, gawkings at the beautiful Baylor girls, "yes, I am Catholic"'s, caffeine consumptions at Common Grounds and WWJD bracelets. It was an awesome time.

Then the last few years, I've been a Community Leader (CL), which is Baylor's version of a highly over-trained RA. Being a CL has been a labor of love. Its never been easy, but its never been hard. I do not regret a second I've spent on this hall, a moment of sleep I've lost because a guy needs to watch the History Channel at 5 in the morning for a class project or a dollar I've wasted on pizza for two. No, I promise you all that I'm quite thankful for the opportunity to do so. Being a CL is the greatest thing the Lord has allowed me to do with my life.

But all that being said, it has taken up a bit of my time. And while I honestly mean it when I say that I regret nothing (much to the contrary), it has taken up a bit of my time. My life has not been the same as that of the average Baylor student. I've not yet had to worry about horrible roommates, or paying rent. I've never suffered from an inconsiderate landlord or wanted for playmates. I haven't had to deal with seeing people day after day that I'll never get to talk to or get to know because they moved out of the Residence Halls for the expressed purpose of not having to deal with Howdy-Doody Olive-Branch-Weilding Tools like myself.

On the other side of the coin, I've never been to more than three or four parties. And if you're only counting parties that've included alcohol, even less. I've never really taken part in much debauchery at all. I've never really gone clubbin'. I've never really done any of those things. Now, I've never exactly been beholden to that kind of stuff. But it would be deception upon my part if I put forth the idea that I'd never even thought about it.

So anyone who really knows me is probably thinking "Okay, Neil. What brought this up and where is this going?". Well, here it is.

Thursday, I decided to experiment.

In the southwest corner of the Brooks Hall courtyard is what has come to be known as "the smoking club". I always enter the Hall from the door in that corner, so I've kinda come to know those guys. I always have a comment for them or something. Well, Thursday was a good day. I was feeling a bit saucy, so I decided sit down chill out with them. For some reason or other, they were talking about dip. They asked me if I'd tried it. Well, I've been lying for years about whether or not I'd tried it. But I never had. So I figured: "what the heck? Worst that could happen is, I puke.". You all should have seen the look on their face when I said "sure" to them.

Anyways, so I try it.

As you may or may not know. "Dip" is basically rough cut tobacco with pieces of fiberglass mixed into it that you wad up and stick in your cheek. The fiberglass is added to it to cut the inside of your cheek so that the nicotene would more easily be absorbed into one's bloodstream. All I know about Dip is that you, under NO circumstances, swallow your spit.

So I'm chewing, spitting, spitting, chewing and all of a sudden it hits me like a tennis racket to the face. The "Buzz". I get light-headed and dizzy. I keep going... but yeah, its a lot. I get asked "dude, Neil, are you F'd up?"

"uh, huh?... oh, um, yeah... maybe. Perhaps... grrrroooan maybe... yes." I mumble.

"You can spit that sh*t out if you want. It's totally cool." Chris Churchey informed me.

"Um, yeah... [spit]... yeah um... [spit] maybe thats uh... [spit] uh good idea." And I chunked that crap as far as my chubby little fingers could send it. "Um, guys? Do you think maybe somebody could let me in? I'm a little dis... disory... awe you know what i'm trying to say, one of you jerks let me in. I gotta lay down."

So I went upstairs to the bathroom and sat for a while, trying to gain control of my head. I was completely vulnerable. If someone was ever going to come up and give me an atomic wedgie... that totally would have been the moment for them to try it. So anyways, as I was upstairs in the bathroom, swishing my mouth out and spitting constantly when one of my residents walks in and asks "Neil, you okay man?"

"Huh, what do you mean?" I stammered as I tried to smile. As I say this, I look up at the mirror to see a pastey pale face somewhat resembling my own.

So, I go lay down, proud I've finally experimented.