Enjoying the sophomore slump

Joe, a friend of mine, recently commented that I've slowed down quite a bit since freshman year. "Joe," I said, "I was running last year. This year I'm just strolling around in a wheelchair." Maybe I exaggerated. But I think it's fair to say that there is a world of difference between the first year at Yale and the second.

As I partied last year, I thought I had encountered the energy of college—the drive to meet everyone, wild late-night parties, bouncing back from ridiculous nights hangover-free. But I was fooled. It wasn't the college experience—rather, the freshman experience. Ah, yes—the times we measured the success of our parties by the number of people that ended up at DUH, the nights we snuck in the side door of Toad's and danced the night away, those days when we discovered a new romantic interest every time we walked through Old Campus.

I don't know where all the energy went, but I am pretty sure that I am not alone in feeling like a new Yalie this year. Every time I run into another sophomore, the conversation goes the same way. "Hey, what have you been up to?" I ask. "Not much, just kind of chilling." The word "mellow" pops up during these chats almost without exception. Everyone—from the girl that could be seen on the booty cam every Saturday night to the guy that rarely left the comfort of his futon—seems to be saying the same thing.

We are no longer those new kids struggling to find their place and do all of the most fun things. Instead, we've found people that make us happy. Do I really want to go to a ridiculously crowded party on a Thursday night when I can have a random dance party in my PJ's with my beloved suitemates? That's a toss up. The big parties just don't do it for me any more. The pre-games have become the better part of the night. I would rather be able to chat with my friends as I sip my beer than elbow my way to a keg and try to down drinks before it runs out.

I think the novelty of freshman year has worn off for many of us. Let's face it, Yale is not that big, and it only takes a few months to start seeing the same faces everywhere you go. A Thursday night at Naples freshman year was always the same deal—beer, pizza, and a mass of freshman eager to have a lot of both and hopefully get a little play along the way. Not that I don't commend these fine objectives, but they just don't thrill me like they used to. Experience has taught me that two pitchers of beer will give me a killer hangover, that the pizza will go somewhere (the Freshman 15), and that waking up next to someone you cannot identify is not all it's cracked up to be.

Despite the nasty lipstick statue outside my window, there is a certain homey feel to my residential college: a mood that is conducive to watching a movie and low-key drinking. Being able to wander into brunch in one's slippers and count on people to sit with seems to lull one into a sense of complacency. Old Campus, on the other hand, is anything but mellow. I think I watched a movie just once last year—and only because all of the parties were over that night and my friends weren't ready to call it quits earlier than 3 a.m.

I admit that I will always be nostalgic about freshman year. I can't help but shake my head and smile when I think about my drunken mistakes. I wouldn't change a thing. But I for one am glad that things have slowed down a bit. My wheelchair is quite comfy, thank you. After all that running around last year, it's nice to sit down and rest my tired feet. Colleen Kinder is a sophomore in Morse.

Graphic by Sarah England.

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