The Tough Get Going

Guess who’s on two legs, speaks limited French, and is no longer sick??? THIS MOI.

Guys, I’m feeling so much better this week. It’s like I went on a juice cleanse of the soul–except I’m not starving and I don’t have to pee every fifteen minutes. I’ve been having a pretty rad week so I’m on a temporary high. I’m considering this fleeting feeling the eye of the storm: my brief moment of happiness before I go back into the tornado that is graduation. It’s like I’ve stayed up all night and its 5am and I’m so exhausted but my body has given up hurting and has just gone into some weird hyperactive state where all I want to do is laugh at everything. Anyway.

After all of the apartment drama my mom and I endured, we finally got everything together, and this weekend, I signed the lease for my adorable, sunny, perfectly-place apartment. I’m in the same complex as my Big, I’m a short walk away from the Grove, and I’m across the street from a place that has bagels, so all of the requirements were filled. Finally getting the apartment makes me feel a little better about leaving Chapman (a small, completely minuscule amount) and going to grad school. After crying in the middle of the USC bookstore, I figured I needed something more tangible to look forward to. And now I have my adorable place. I have absolutely no gas left in my car from driving to LA and back 90 million times, but I am happy.

Chapman is also doing everything they can to ease the pain: our Senior week was filled with alcohol-fueled activities because God knows Chapman read the room. For the first time ever, I went to the D on a Wednesday night for Chapman’s taco event (Taco Tuesday… but Wednesday because of reasons no one understands) and got to watch my guy friends sing the karaoke version of “With A Little Help From My Friends” in front of everyone. There’s just something about watching guys do karaoke that makes me happy. Especially because no one but Matt knew the words. And they all got one free shot each after. And that’s what college is all about: tacos, singing, embarrassing yourself, friendship, and alcohol. I kept this notion in mind on Thursday when I was sick because I could not let my Thursday D streak die. I went to the D, sick as a dog, for about half an hour. Then I went home, popped two NyQuil, and passed out until 10am.

“Megan, Jesus, go home! Why are you even here right now?!”


And that’s me. I’m not a quitter. I’ve been told that I have a commitment problem. No, not that kind. The opposite kind. I commit like an effing pro. When I set my sights on something, I WILL NOT LET GO and this is both an awesome and a terrible thing. Awesome, because it’s led to me working really hard to achieve something (getting into Chapman, getting the dorm I wanted–twice–getting the off-campus house I wanted, getting into USC, getting my apartment, etc.) and terrible, because when things don’t work out, it’s like a personal attack on my very soul (not being able to get a pet in my house, my brother not getting into Chapman, obviously my break-up, etc.). I’m a very committed and loyal human. Alex has told me that one of my best traits is how fiercely loyal I am. Like “help you hide a body” loyal. Like let’s just say it’s a very good thing none of my friends have homicidal tendencies. So I set my sights on LA over a year ago, and I’m finally making it happen. If only it were possible to will myself into aging backwards and getting to live college all over again.

Oh, and the parties thrown this weekend by, who else, the gentlemen of Beta Theta Pi–they were great. I had so much fun wearing my batgirl costume again, touching the ice luge, getting extremely low, trekking to Pizza Press, realizing we’d missed closing by ten minutes, getting sad, driving to Albertacos, and playing Smash Bros with boys who basically play Smash Bros for a living. Also, going shot for shot with Amanda. Drinking tequila. And then going to a bar. And watching the boys flip some chairs on friend’s lawns. And having the friends I have. I don’t want to leave.

But in the meantime, I’ll keep doing schoolwork, eating food, and drinking with my friends. I’ll probably still be doing that after graduation. I’ll probably still be doing that after retirement.

As Amy Schumer once said, “Nothing good ever happens in a blackout. I’ve never woken up and been like, ‘What is this Pilates mat doing out?'”


2 thoughts on “The Tough Get Going

  1. I beg to differ I did in fact black out once and find a yoga mat out the next morning.. You know what I take that back I later found out how it was used and ya, you’re completely right, nothing good.


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