Yeahp, I finally went to the party I had been evading in the last three years and it wasn’t a disappointment. Here are the top three reactions:
Oh, they take the theme seriously.
The theme was Olympia so we were supposed to dress up as Greek gods and goddesses. I absolutely love Greek mythology but I was feeling a little rebellious so instead, I showed up in a classic gray and black empire-cut dress.
Well, actually, it was only partly because I was feeling rebellious. It was mostly because I hate white dresses. Being a five-feet tall lady with a baby face, wearing a white frock makes me look like a thirteen-year-old on her Confirmation day.
In my obnoxious dark dress and plum and pink makeup, I certainly looked awkward in a sea of white and gold. Well, at least my shoes were gold (they are flats, by the way). Ha!
Uh, they call that dancing?
Ahh, drunk dancing — that’s what it’s called. It was really amusing to watch your friends in their wildest on the dance floor.
Who’s that already sprawled on the floor? The party’s barely started!
Look at that. I don’t think he can feel his limbs anymore. Haha.
Wait… OH MY G — is that lap dancing? *covers eyes*
It was fun, really, until they drag you in. I wasn’t prepared for that. I know basic chachacha and samba but they wouldn’t work with EDM. Really, I tried. So I just clapped me hands and joined the train (which seems to be a party staple anywhere). After a being a killjoy in the past three years, that’s the least I can do for my friends.
These cocktails are nice.
Especially the mango-flavored one. I would have had more if only my legs did not start feeling like jelly. But I still prefer Shirley Temple though. I miss fishing the cherry at the bottom of the glass — just the best reward for enduring alcohol.
But nobody seemed to mind what they were being served. They just drank and drank until they’re tipsy enough to do drunk dancing (see #2 above). They seemed to have so much fun. I am happy for them.
To be honest, it was not really one of the greatest times in my life. But it was fun, in a way, and my friends loved that I gave in this time. It was just that I am still not ready to let myself loose. I guess I am really not made to be wild. It’s fine, isn’t it? 🙂
I know I have more important things to worry about — final exams, a possible removal exam in swimming class (yes, in my world it is possible to have a conditional grade in P.E. class), how to get rid of the mice in my dorm room (or at least, lure them away from my food basket because come on, what do they need coffee for?), and of course, facing the question, What’s next after college? (that’s assuming I will be graduating this academic year) — but right now there is this one petty dilemma that has been bothering me for some days now:
BIONIGHT: to go or not to go?
Bionight is a year-ender party organized by Bio majors that … well actually, I do not know what it really is supposed to be. But here is what I know: it is a college party which practically equates to booze and staying up all night, having fun (Read: Getting wild).
For seniors, this Bionight is the last one — a marker that we are almost through our last year as undergraduates. Thus, for many, it is imperative that I at least make an appearance that might as well be a sort of confirmation that I have been here the whole time. But should I?
For the past three years, I have not gathered enough bravado to go to Bionight. Or to any college party, actually. The thing is, I have always hated parties, formal or casual.
First, I hate dressing up. Getting my face and hair done is such a bother and my feet and legs are no longer used to my former best friends — that is, my high-heeled shoes. No one can drag me into any party wearing my lowly flats. What would my mother say?
Second, it is always physically exhausting. Party music is also unhealthy for my delicate ears. It is difficult to pretend you are having fun when there is that painful pounding in your ears that you cannot simply ignore. Plus, with my resting bitch face, parties mean putting on my “friendly face” which requires too much work for my poor facial muscles. Anyone who tells me that aching ears and facial muscles are worth it must be absolutely crazy.
Third, the dancing. I love dancing but definitely not the kind that they do in parties (disclaimer: I am judging from what I see in their photos). Instead, I prefer slow dancing. Cheesy, I know. But slow dancing gives one a chance to actually talk with his or her partner. Slow dancing, thus, can help build friendships, solidify existing ones, and provide opportunities for future conversations. On the other hand, shameless grinding and shaking leads to awkward encounters days, weeks, months, or even years later. Trust me on this — some things I did in my high school prom still haunt me to this day.
Lastly, the drinking. I will be a liar if I say I have never touched alcohol. But I have never been too wasted and I have no plans of trying to be, even for just once. You see, the morning after, people regret the number of shots they had. For the past three years, I have had no regrets.
People tend to quote Einstein every time they convince me into doing something I have never tried before (really, so many different people has already told me this quote that it’s getting creepy):
“A person who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”
Of course, he is right. But I do not think I am ready to make this mistake yet.
So should I or should I not? Enlighten me, please.