Don’t Be Like Me

October 17th 2014

Story originally written and experienced: September 6th 2008

I was dancing on a pool table.

Everyone was.

Get on my level. (literally)

Get on my level. (…literally)


Denim skirt + Floral tube top = sexy can't I. #2008

Denim skirt + Floral tube top = sexy can’t I. #2008


Most everyone at least.

Drinks spil





On ensembles decorated with makeshift Hawaiian prints.

Just a matter of time.

Just a matter of time.


As every frat boy and every frat girl collided

oFf> < RyThYm

On the dance floor.

We were 19 years old. Partying the way every college kid knew how: Cheap beer. Pop music. Good friends. Whilst wearing bright shirts or jerseys under the given sorority/fraternity mixer theme “Mali…booze.”


So obedient.

…The requirement of jerseys is still yet to be determined.

…As are these faces I found on my camera the next morning:

He who shall not be named.

They who shall not be named.

And my decision to take a picture with a lassie wearing this shirt:

How festive...of you.

A festive choice… 

And then I left. >>

Because I was drunk. And I was tired. And I wanted to go to my friend Tim’s dorm room because…

…well because…

I heard he had a gigantic…


The rumors were true.

Proven RIGHT.


My friends and I snacked pretty hard that night.

And we never left.

Except when we did.

I went first.

Claiming I had “more snacks back at my place” when really all I wanted to do was make a semi-sober call. To my cousin. Sam. No reason really. Just to talk.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.



“Hiii Olive! What’s up?”

“Walking home from a friend’s place. I just ate a shit ton of cake.”

“Still a lady I see.”

“Always a lady.”

 “How was your night?”

“A little ridiculous. I danced on a pool table in a sequined tank top from Express. I’m already having a self-judging hangover.”

“Well, did you have fun at least?”

“Too much.”

“Well good.”

“Hope it wasn’t too much though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I just joined this damn sorority and 3 seconds later I’m publicly two-stepping on innocent furniture 6 feet into the sky”

“Were you embarrassed about it?

“Not at all, it was a fucking blast. But. I’m thinking I should make an attempt to be a more civilized human being. Like you.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

Don’t be like me.”


“Don’t be like anyone. Where’s the fun in that? Probably not on pool tables.”

“So philosophical of you.”

“I’m being serious! I was actually just thinking about this other day. This idea of ++ adding and – –  subtracting qualities to ourselves that inevitably = a version that isn’t entirely us. Sure maybe we can generally strive to be nicer, better, more motivated, more confident. But. The actual building blocks of our personalities? Well, those are the best. The most unique. Imagine. If everyone made it a point to behave the same way in every situation. Go for the same goals. Say the same things. Make the same jokes. How incredibly uninteresting would this world be?”

“Probably pretty stupid.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Totally. Oh. Also, I see some of my friends! Can I call you a little later?”

“Hahaha yes definitely. Have fun!

And just like that we hung up the phone. And that was that. Except. The next morning when I woke up. I remembered that phone call. And I remembered it a lot. What my cousin said. And the reasons why she said it.

Thing is.

It’s a completely normal thing. To compare ourselves. Want to better ourselves. Get self conscious about ourselves. And be proud of ourselves too. FlUcTuAtInG between days where we just don’t give a damn and the days where we kind of care a lot.

Do the like me? Do they not? What do they think and why? Do I care? Yes I do. No I don’t.


I’m not really sure.

Forgetting that.

No matter what room you’re in. Or place you’re at. There will never. Ever. Be a duplicate of yourself there too.

 And that’s kind of kick ass.

You’re the sense of humor that made the joke no one will think of. The logical one who seems to make everything make sense. The wild one with the epic one liners. The quiet and cool one who balances out the madness. The panicky one who makes everyone panic but also gets shit done. The hott mess who is a total hott mess but goddamnit the party wouldn’t be the same without you.

Maybe you’re the person on the pool table shamelessly dancing the night away—giving people quality snap chat footage near and far.


The classy individual 3 feet


Saying to yourself “Looks like she’s having fun. But I’m much happier down here.”

And cheers to that.

For balancing shit out. Knowing what you like. Don’t like. And being perfectly fine with both.

Because why be like anyone.

When it’s so goddamn awesome being you.