I had my college orientation this past week. It was great, if slightly boring. I ended up getting all of the classes I wanted even after being told that I was insane for trying to minor in music while possibly majoring in English. I managed to convince my advisor that I’d be fine, because I’ve always had a heavy workload in high school.
At the beginning of the first day of orientation, I spotted a girl from my high school whom I’m sort of friends with. She was kind of cold toward me, but I noticed that she was just walking up to lots of students and asking them questions. By the end of the day, she was hanging out with a group of kids, laughing and talking. So, that afternoon, I did exactly what she did. If someone looked remotely friendly, I went up and talked to them, being sure not to be too enthusiastic in the way that camp counselors or youth group leaders always are. It made me nervous because I’m usually passive. By the end of the day, I had a few names too, and I started to feel good about college. I probably won’t be friends with the kids I talked to, but I know that I can meet people just as easily as the next person. It felt like a superpower that I discovered this week and can use again in the fall.
Although freshman orientation was the most important thing that happened this week, I also need to mention that I saw Magic Mike. I am a teen with high cinematic expectations. When I enter a theater, I expect to see no less than a MASTERPIECE. Going to Magic Mike last Friday was supposed to be the pinnacle of my week—the climax, if you will. Instead, I was left feeling empty and unfulfilled.
I would like to say that I loved this movie, that it changed my life in the same way Never Say Never and Monte Carlo did. But it failed due to the fact that the custom furniture Mike makes totally sucks. The whole movie, Channing Tatum’s character is trying to get enough money to start his own furniture business, because the strip club he works at is corrupt and odd jobs are exhausting, but who wants to buy furniture made out of old cans and saws? NOT ME. Who wants to see Mike at a strip club doing what he is CLEARLY meant to do? EVERYONE.
Tatum is a really good dancer, and I’d rather have had a more plausible subplot or more dancing, even if that would have made the film more exploitative. After the movie was over—and after my friend and I had finished our snuck-in cheese, crackers, and soda—we caught my brother and his friend walking out of the same theater. We all agreed that Mike’s furniture was hideous. ♦