The following post is from our friend Sara Bass, Penn State student and gifted photographer. We are very thankful she took the time to share this piece with us about appreciating the subtle beauty around her.
Please follow her on twitter: @poison_ivy3 she's lovely.
Please follow her on twitter: @poison_ivy3 she's lovely.
Hungover in a Flyers shirt is no way to go through life. Especially as a Penguins fan.
I feel like I owe everyone in my life an explanation. I feel like I owe MYSELF an explanation for that one. Out of every bad decision I’ve made since school started, I feel like this one was the worst.
Talk to anyone, and they’ll reiterate it for you. I HATE the Flyers. I hate everything they stand for-- I cringe at the sight of the color orange. They’ll remind you of the mini Penguins shrine hanging in my room, and the countless photos I took at the games I went to.
I don’t even know why I bought the shirt, but it was a regret and a mistake the moment I walked out of the store. (The things I do to impress a Flyers fan that I’m interested in) I figured I’d find some use for it-- be it a burning, shredding, or some other form of special torture. And then I was invited to a party after Penn State played Temple, hosted by Phi Mu Alpha our music fraternity.
They told us it was a theme party-- an “I’m glad I’m not” party. As a Penguins fan, nothing would be more appropriate than to go and make it clear that I am glad I’m not a Flyers fan. Yet, soon after arriving it was apparent that I was the only one who bothered to follow the theme.
All night I fielded questions about my hockey allegiance, ending with explanations that yes, the party was supposed to have a theme.
Ten shots and a cup jungle juice (filled with 190 proof Everclear) later, I experienced what could only be described as the worst night of my life. I honestly think a Newfie shot would have been more enjoyable.
As I stared at the porcelain throne, I had many epiphanies and made many promises to myself. For one, I would never drink again. (Which, to no one’s surprise, I’ve already broken. Whoops) As I laid on the bathroom floor, I became increasingly aware of my own mortality. Especially since there were no TUMS or Ibuprofen in the entire apartment.
Eventually I was able to fall asleep on the sofa, before waking up to a killer stomach ache and a BBQ to go to. Somehow, I managed to avoid a killer headache-- I still don’t know how.
Dressed in my clothes from the night before, I ventured back into town, hungover and in my Flyers shirt. I can honestly say, I have never felt more disgusted in myself. It’s not a way to go through life.
0 Construxive Remarx