Here's something interesting that I've realized about myself and a few of my friends/acquaintances: the people we are in class and during the week does not reflect the person we sometimes see between 5 pm Friday and 5 pm Sunday. Behavior switches when that final dismissal bell rings, and resulting actions can include a number of different things, especially with the added influence of music/lack of class/procrastination/alcohol/or any number of things.
Some people choose to use the weekend as a time to indulge in their deadly sin of choice. Of the seven, the three I often see the most are:
Sloth
Those who choose sloth decide that the weekend is the perfect time to do absolutely nothing. And I mean nothing... If these people didn't have to use the bathroom or eat to live, they would not leave their bed, let alone their room. These people give a new meaning to sleeping in. Is it 6 pm? They just woke up. Did they pull an all-nighter? No, they just woke up every 6 hours or so to rehydrate, adjust positioning in the bed, go to the bathroom, and go back to sleep. They watch church on television because they can't be bothered to get out of the bed.
Honestly, if they could, they would attach a catheter and an IV of saline, turn off the lights, disconnect the phone, and go comatose for two days straight. And love every second of it...
Pride
You know that girl who goes to class in sweats and a hoodie during the week? The one who lives in tennis shoes and comfortable clothing? Or how about baggy jeans guy? The one always wearing a questionably clean shirt? Have you ever seen them on the weekend? Even if you did, you wouldn't recognize them because once the clock hits a certain hour on Friday, they transform into the most conceited person you never knew you knew.
She wouldn't be caught dead in someone's frat basement without heels and a suggestive outfit. He wouldn't leave his room until he was sure that everyone looked at him when he exited. Why do they do this at this time? Because during the week, they're too busy being academic perfectionists to care about what they look like. They're so good at this transformation, they can execute it better than any make-over show on televison, and in a shorter time. Their before/after shots from the weekend could inspire any awkward teen to have hope in a future of happiness. In fact, they have perfected this skill to the point where you almost want to tell them to stop being a student and become a professional make-up artist/beautician/fashion consultant/etc.
They would, but then they're afraid that they might make someone look better than they do...
Lust
Ah, lust. The most infamous and [arguably] most practiced of the sins. It's existance has inspired many a drunken hook-up, depressing morning after, and the invention of the morning after pill.
I'm not one to judge anyone. Seriously. This is just a series of observations.
Girl A has had a long week. She's stressed about the impending doom of her GPA. She's single. She has the unfortunate situation of attending a PWI where the women of color severely outnumber the men of color, and the men of non-color [what?] don't seem to be going for the chocolate-y types. She hasn't had any considerable play in ages, it seems, and she just wants to de-stress this weekend.
Add alcohol, stir.
She has become a dancefloor goddess in search of someone to worship at her temple. Confidence on overload, standards skewed, BAL increasing, and the next thing you know it's the next morning. No, she didn't wake up next to someone, nor did she have to perform the infamous walk of shame. But she does have some pictures on her camera of her and Boys A-G scandalously enacting things she has memorized from music videos but never planned to perform in public. She was tempted to go further, but either God, her best friends, or her passing out prevented it.
She quickly showers, erases the photos, and makes her way to church, hoping that there's nothing she can't remember that would cause permanent social damage...
And it all happens again the next weekend. Promises made to ourselves are forgotten as stress and exhaustion tempt us toward slipping back into our weekend lifestyles.
At least for 48 more hours...
Some people choose to use the weekend as a time to indulge in their deadly sin of choice. Of the seven, the three I often see the most are:
Sloth
Those who choose sloth decide that the weekend is the perfect time to do absolutely nothing. And I mean nothing... If these people didn't have to use the bathroom or eat to live, they would not leave their bed, let alone their room. These people give a new meaning to sleeping in. Is it 6 pm? They just woke up. Did they pull an all-nighter? No, they just woke up every 6 hours or so to rehydrate, adjust positioning in the bed, go to the bathroom, and go back to sleep. They watch church on television because they can't be bothered to get out of the bed.
Honestly, if they could, they would attach a catheter and an IV of saline, turn off the lights, disconnect the phone, and go comatose for two days straight. And love every second of it...
Pride
You know that girl who goes to class in sweats and a hoodie during the week? The one who lives in tennis shoes and comfortable clothing? Or how about baggy jeans guy? The one always wearing a questionably clean shirt? Have you ever seen them on the weekend? Even if you did, you wouldn't recognize them because once the clock hits a certain hour on Friday, they transform into the most conceited person you never knew you knew.
She wouldn't be caught dead in someone's frat basement without heels and a suggestive outfit. He wouldn't leave his room until he was sure that everyone looked at him when he exited. Why do they do this at this time? Because during the week, they're too busy being academic perfectionists to care about what they look like. They're so good at this transformation, they can execute it better than any make-over show on televison, and in a shorter time. Their before/after shots from the weekend could inspire any awkward teen to have hope in a future of happiness. In fact, they have perfected this skill to the point where you almost want to tell them to stop being a student and become a professional make-up artist/beautician/fashion consultant/etc.
They would, but then they're afraid that they might make someone look better than they do...
Lust
Ah, lust. The most infamous and [arguably] most practiced of the sins. It's existance has inspired many a drunken hook-up, depressing morning after, and the invention of the morning after pill.
I'm not one to judge anyone. Seriously. This is just a series of observations.
Girl A has had a long week. She's stressed about the impending doom of her GPA. She's single. She has the unfortunate situation of attending a PWI where the women of color severely outnumber the men of color, and the men of non-color [what?] don't seem to be going for the chocolate-y types. She hasn't had any considerable play in ages, it seems, and she just wants to de-stress this weekend.
Add alcohol, stir.
She has become a dancefloor goddess in search of someone to worship at her temple. Confidence on overload, standards skewed, BAL increasing, and the next thing you know it's the next morning. No, she didn't wake up next to someone, nor did she have to perform the infamous walk of shame. But she does have some pictures on her camera of her and Boys A-G scandalously enacting things she has memorized from music videos but never planned to perform in public. She was tempted to go further, but either God, her best friends, or her passing out prevented it.
She quickly showers, erases the photos, and makes her way to church, hoping that there's nothing she can't remember that would cause permanent social damage...
And it all happens again the next weekend. Promises made to ourselves are forgotten as stress and exhaustion tempt us toward slipping back into our weekend lifestyles.
At least for 48 more hours...
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