Allison Kieley, Gustavus Adolphus College, Class of 2012

11/4/2009

2009 Essay Grand Prize Winner

I would like to say that I will never forget my first night of college. Unfortunately, that night was forgotten about 10 shots in. I couldn't tell you where I went or who I was with. All I really remember was singing the lyrics to "Alcohol My Only Friend" in between pulls of vodka. I was the stereotype -- the typical college kid that drinks too much and morphs into some sort of drunken fool until I passed out on the floor. I continued to be that stereotype for the entire first semester. Not only was I the stereotype, but I loved being the stereotype.

I was a tank -- chasing my shots with beer and taking down beer bongs in record time. Weekends started before dinner on Wednesday night and ended whenever my hangover decided to finally retreat on Sunday. Drinking before football games started at 8 a.m. with a genius concoction we so cleverly deemed "Beerios" -- a tasteful breakfast made up of a can of Beer-30 (the cheapest of cheap beers) and good old Cheerios. I can't pick out a night from first semester that really stands out, because to me, it was all the same. We pre-gamed, pre-gamed some more, went to a party or two, and somehow found our ways home. I woke up every morning knowing that I probably had fun the night before, because I was doing what college kids do and what college kids love, but I felt empty.

I played hard, and to me, that was okay because hey, it's college, right? Work hard during the week -- go to class, spend every night at the library, make flashcards, rewrite notes -- and play hard every weekend. That's balance at its finest.

That's what I thought balance was, anyway. And that's what everyone around me thought it was. It took me getting so drunk that I threw up to realize that my perception of balance was maybe a little crooked.

So I had to reevaluate. I had to ask myself some questions that I didn't want to answer. What were my priorities? Why did I drink so often and so much? What made me feel happy?

My first answer coincided quite well with the stereotype of the college kid. My priority was clearly having fun -- living up my college years. And here, fun means drinking and doing so excessively. The campus mentality was that if you didn't go out on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night, you simply weren't having fun. So why did I drink so often and so much? I can guarantee it wasn't because I wanted to, but because I was expected to. I worked hard during the week, so of course I should drink my share on weekends.

It is the last question that doesn't quite fit that stereotype that I so loved filling. What makes me feel happy? It isn't drinking, and it never was. I liked the perception of having friends -- of having all these people chanting "chug chug chug!" and praising me for my ridiculous tolerance. But it wasn't real; the foundations of these friendships were made of sand. What makes me happy is fulfilling relationships -- ones that don't require alcohol. I go to bed feeling fulfilled when I sit down and have good conversation with a couple friends for a few hours, not when I spend my night drinking myself to oblivion and having "fun."

So with that question answered, I had to look back at the first one. If my top priority doesn't lead to my happiness, then the scale is tipped. So the question became what should my top priority be? Well, to tip the scale back to center, my priority should be being happy. And that meant doing the things that made me happy, not those that left me feeling nothing.

So I stopped drinking so excessively, and I encouraged those around me to do the same. I got to actually know some of the people who had been so insistent that I take one more shot, and learned that they aren't people I care to associate myself with. They hold the "work hard, play harder" mentality.

I've found other ways to "play" -- I suppose it's all in the definition. Movie nights with the girls, playing catch outside, going on day trips into town to go see a movie, or just hanging out in the dorms have proven much more memorable than getting plastered every night.

I look back at the few memories I do have of those plastered nights and I am embarrassed -- not only because I fit that stereotype so well, but also because I loved it. I loved that I was just like everyone else, and I loved that I was doing exactly what a college kid is "supposed to do." But now, it is so blatantly obvious to me that that is all a waste. If you aren't doing the things that make you truly happy, you aren't balancing your life well. I learned that the hard way, but I wouldn't trade that lesson in for anything. Sure, the "work hard play hard" mentality is just about the only one on campus, but I've learned that "play hard" means doing the things that make you happy; you just have to figure out that means for you.