FOMO


FOMO, not FOAM.  Sorry for any confusion.

(n.) – Fear Of Missing Out.  A common sentiment when referring to a semester abroad, time off from college, or in my case and that of all the other Cacites who have not yet returned, jealousy towards those already indulging in the first glorious days of the new school year.

I’m pissed.  Sorry for listening, Conn, when you lied to me and told me you were gonna get asspounded by Irene (ignorant slut).  Sorry I abide by the rules when you say I have to move in on Saturday (this is not a sorryimnotsorry situation.  I’m pretty fucking sorry.  Much rather be at CC right now).  To all you squirelly bastards and shifty young lasses already sneaking your way back onto campus, suck it.  Suck it, but know this.  I am nothing if not impressed.   After receiving this email from the Dean of Student Life last night, I am quite curious as to what rampant hooliganism and blatant debauchery I have been missing out on #FOMO.

Dear Students:

Welcome back to Connecticut College. While this has not been a typical opening for our campus, I want to take the opportunity to remind you that the campus is dry and should be alcohol and drug free until the start of classes on Monday, September 5th.  While some first years have been here for almost a week others have just arrived and are beginning to become acclimated with our campus community.  Additionally, many students and staff are still recovering from the storm in a variety of ways and we need to be mindful and, thus, respectful of all members of our community.  This includes not only students but faculty, staff and administrators as well who reside on campus.
We have zero tolerance for the violation of College policy and the Honor Code.  As a result, sanctioning will be more severe as compared to the academic year.  Last night’s incidents included numerous alcohol violations and a transport to the hospital.
Have a wonderful and successful academic year!

Sincerely,

Dean of Student Life

Okay.  Let’s take stock now.  First and foremost, I know where I want to be on Monday, September 5th.  It sounds to me like when the clock strikes 4 pm after all of Monday’s classes are over, The Connecticut College for students who can sort of read good and want to learn to do other stuff good too becomes a fucking animal house.  Bottles. Bongs. Needles. Kegs. Pills. Jenkem.  #conncollproblems….

Secondly. Dear Hospital Transport,

Really? On the bright side, I’m sure your parents are happy that they spent the last 18 years “raising you right” so that you could take the most money they’ve ever spent on you and try to throw it out the window in your first few HOURS of college. Sick. You’re a fucking legend. Survival of the fittest I guess. Some people just can’t handle camp conn.  Good work.  You must’ve read the CollegeProwler for Conn: “everyone wants to hang out with the kid who can’t handle their liquor and has to be babysat and sent to the hospital.” I mean, I saw it on there…

So I’m salty because the Orioles lost 13-0 last night, but I’m still not sorry.  This kid is a moron.  In any case, the alcohol violations are pretty exciting, as well as the way the last two sentences of the letter flow together.  To paraphrase: “People got fucking shithoused last night; do good in school”.  thankth dean.

To all my fellow Camels, and other Cacians already somehow sick of their schools: I will be arriving on Saturday, which is the allocated move-in date for upperclassmen.  Though I plan to abide by the move-in date, the policy of dry campus will probably need some student-driven adjustment.

We will be happy to oblige.

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