I am a freshman and I love college, but I have a slight problem. I am a homebody and love spending time in my room. My roommate is a social butterfly and always does stuff, and sometimes I feel like such a dud around her. She has boys following her around like lost puppies. I have never been in a serious relationship. I really want to date and do all the fun stuff, but I feel almost socially awkward when I’m out and about. And when I’m out, I wish I was in my room reading a book. What should I do to get out there and meet people? I just don’t know what to do.
Terminal Homebody
Dear Terminal Homebody,
I’m so glad you have the confidence to confide me about your personal problems. I used to find myself yearning for solitude, and for awhile I satisfied that urge. For almost two years, I left my house only to buy cat food, Top Ramen and feminine hygiene products. I had everything I needed: “Days of Our Lives”, a delicious insta’ ready soup and the plethora of gossip and knitting pattern magazines. My life was fine until a late September day. Priscilla died in my arms. It was devastating. My 12-year-old tabby choked on her hairball. I gave her mouth to mouth for more than 30 minutes, but she never recovered. I called 911, but was told that my cat wasn’t an emergency. As I looked into the blank eyes of my recently dead cat, I heard a voice that said, “Live your life Miss Jones – liiiiiivvvveeee youuuurrrrr liiiifffffeeeee ...” The last three words seemed to echo around the room, and when I looked back down, Priscilla’s eyes were shut. I immediately knew that it was Priscilla’s voice and that she wanted me to be happy, to travel, to be social and to explore. And I did just that. The next day I woke up, I had a small service for Priscilla and began my new life. I found it tragic that her horrifying cough and unsuccessful gasps for air was what awoke me to my true calling: helping others.
From that day forward, I was committed to experiencing everything that came my way (the dirty writer of the recent motion picture “Yes Man” was actually an ex boy-toy who stole my mantra and wrote the screenplay). So I ate Rocky Mountain oysters, went scuba diving with sharks, dated a carny and perfected the ping-pong trick. It was a glorious time of my life, one that I look back on with fond memories.
I beg you Homebody, don’t wait for your Priscilla to choke on her own half-digested ball of hair and die in your arms. Take the initiative to be the person who has those “lost little puppies” following you. I guess what I’m trying to tell you is to live for today, have no regrets and be yourself.
Good luck and remember, as many times as Miss Jones has been around the block, her directions must be good.
E-mail Miss Jones your questions and partake in her infinite wisdom. statesman.miss.jones@gmail.com