Look at my picture.
Go ahead, look again.
Judging from my outward appearance, one wouldn’t typically guess that I would be the victim of a stereotype.
I mean, I look pretty normal.
But, there is one characteristic that leads others to quickly make specific assumptions.
I’m a college student.
I’m sure some readers are wondering how this statement can be construed as negative, but think about it. When one thinks of college students, what characteristics come to mind?
Let’s take the film industry as an example. Some of the most popular college movies are “Animal House,” the “American Pie” series, “National Lampoon’s Van Wilder” and “Road Trip.”
There seems to be a basic formula: sexy young coeds + alcohol + ridiculous situations = box office success.
But here’s the thing about me. Yes, I am a college student, and yeah, every once in awhile I like to have a couple drinks, but my life more closely resembles something out of “Golden Girls.”
I’m engaged to the same guy I dated in high school. We live in a 100-year-old farmhouse with our dog and two cats in the middle of nowhere — for those of you who are having difficulty finding it on the map, just look under London, Ohio.
During my free time, I like to run around in the fields with my dog, bake assorted fattening goodies and snuggle up on the couch to the newest episodes of “MythBusters” and “American Pickers.”
And often my free time is during Saturday nights.
Although many people my age plan their weeks for the weekend party, nothing excites me more than finding an apron that coordinates perfectly with the colors of my country kitchen, popping in a Jim Croce DVD and reading “My Life and Hard Times” for the 17th time.
I hate the radio, unless it’s on an oldies station. And honestly, even the oldies stations have been disappointing me lately.
Paula Abdul is not oldies. Please.
I’ve never been involved in a sexual encounter with a flute, driven across the country for some White Castle, attended a toga party (or any college party, actually), jumped into Mirror Lake or taken a single sip of Four Loko.
Hard to believe, I know.
People often ask me about my “craziest” college experience.
Well, one day the café at McPherson ran out of food.
I get responses such as, “Oh, Andrea,” with a sigh and shake of their head, and others attempt to coax me into sleeping on their dorm room floor after a night of partying on High Street.
Boy, that sounds tempting.
But it’s not like I didn’t try the whole “college life” thing. I lived on campus my freshman year and was absolutely miserable. It wasn’t just that I missed my family and friends; I was an old soul transplanted into an environment where others entertain themselves by watching young Italians fist pump.
I just can’t do it.
Every once in awhile, I wonder if I will have regrets. But, I still have great memories. They’re just a bit different. I’ll never forget the first time a story I wrote appeared on the front page, or the feeling I get walking across the Oval during Autumn Quarter, knowing I’m a Buckeye.
Some of us are just a little more nuts than others.