four ex-students avoiding the real world
Monica took this photo of Tegan and me as we packed to move out of the apartment this fall. It’s pretty much representative of our entire friendship, which is darkness and light. Literally. She’s got the whitest blond hair and is very tall and German and mild-mannered and wears blue, bakes and sings Disney songs. People love her good nature. I’m…well, “petite,” dark-haired, eat out for almost every meal, wear lots of black and I don’t think I’d ever be loved for my “good nature.” Tegan had a white Mac. I had a black Mac. Tegan farms and is doing the Peace Corps. I’ve moved to a crowded urban environment to work in magazines. When Tegan eats, it’s like watching Olympic ice dancers sweeping the rink, but when I eat it’s like the watering hole scene in “Mean Girls.” Tegan rides bikes and hikes. I ride subways and power-walk. She plays tennis. I play badminton, and I’m bad at it. Boys love Tegan for (mostly) the right reasons. Gay boys are nice enough to talk to me. Here, as you see, I prefer to wallow in darkness and make crazy Gollum faces and perverted poses while Tegan basks in the warm glow of sunshine like a cat and—what is she doing—crocheting something? Mending? MAKING THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE? It’s like, you want to hate this girl, but you just can’t. She’s making my world a better place, for God’s sake, and how can I complain?  Anyway, she’s not perfect. She doesn’t appreciate my feet nearly enough (nor the movie “Bridesmaids”), she’s left-handed, likes country music and she lets everything in the fridge mold and then, upon discovery, continues to covet the molding items because—she says with an evil gleam in her eye—”they’re a science experiment.” She’s clearly the secret serial killer here. I’m just the innocent, multiracial blogger (diversity card! score!). None of this probably made any sense to most of you, but I wrote it because I’ve thought a lot about her (and the rest of our roommates) recently and about how strange our friendship really is given that the thing we probably share most in common is our taste in food. But that’s really the way to a girl’s heart anyway. -Malia

Monica took this photo of Tegan and me as we packed to move out of the apartment this fall. It’s pretty much representative of our entire friendship, which is darkness and light. Literally. She’s got the whitest blond hair and is very tall and German and mild-mannered and wears blue, bakes and sings Disney songs. People love her good nature. I’m…well, “petite,” dark-haired, eat out for almost every meal, wear lots of black and I don’t think I’d ever be loved for my “good nature.” Tegan had a white Mac. I had a black Mac. Tegan farms and is doing the Peace Corps. I’ve moved to a crowded urban environment to work in magazines. When Tegan eats, it’s like watching Olympic ice dancers sweeping the rink, but when I eat it’s like the watering hole scene in “Mean Girls.” Tegan rides bikes and hikes. I ride subways and power-walk. She plays tennis. I play badminton, and I’m bad at it. Boys love Tegan for (mostly) the right reasons. Gay boys are nice enough to talk to me.

Here, as you see, I prefer to wallow in darkness and make crazy Gollum faces and perverted poses while Tegan basks in the warm glow of sunshine like a cat and—what is she doing—crocheting something? Mending? MAKING THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE?

It’s like, you want to hate this girl, but you just can’t. She’s making my world a better place, for God’s sake, and how can I complain? 

Anyway, she’s not perfect. She doesn’t appreciate my feet nearly enough (nor the movie “Bridesmaids”), she’s left-handed, likes country music and she lets everything in the fridge mold and then, upon discovery, continues to covet the molding items because—she says with an evil gleam in her eye—”they’re a science experiment.”

She’s clearly the secret serial killer here. I’m just the innocent, multiracial blogger (diversity card! score!). None of this probably made any sense to most of you, but I wrote it because I’ve thought a lot about her (and the rest of our roommates) recently and about how strange our friendship really is given that the thing we probably share most in common is our taste in food.

But that’s really the way to a girl’s heart anyway.

-Malia

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