By James Cameron. (Lauded Canadian film director, film producer, deep-sea explorer, screenwriter, and editor.) If you’re a college senior, this is for you.
As I wade through the sea of dirt, peanut shells, glass, leaves, and pizza cheese engrained in my carpet, the memories of the night prior come back in fragments and snapshots. It’s like seeing photographs in your peripherals on a wall as you walk down a staircase. They’re there, but only passing and not in detail. Fractions of reality fade into myth as what was once tangible and concrete becomes abstract and forgotten. They cannot be remembered. Pieces of existence become lost. But they did happen. What transpired and the memories you had may not be specifically remembered, but the emotion was felt and captured and wonderful.
This is why we do it. This is why we drink.
This is why we drank a jug of wine last night. In one night, this is why we try to drink a 30 rack of beer. In one night, this is why we routinely drink a fifth. For you laypeople, who are not members of this church, a fifth means 750ml, one fifth of a gallon of alcohol.
Maybe you should have paced yourself better. Maybe it was a bad idea to eat half a bag of chips and a box of nerds…..as your entire caloric intake aside from drinking the day before. Maybe the thought of “how did I get here?” you have the next morning when you awake in your bed completely naked with the lights on invites doubt. Maybe when you check your bank account balance online to piece some of this lost world back together, you doubt yourself when you realize that you spent $35 at 7-eleven not once, but twice the night before. You realize that $25, the amount remaining in your bank account, may not be able to cover basic food expenses for the next 3 ½ months that are left in the semester.
The pizza crust dust proliferated across your bed suggests that perhaps you could have eaten pizza, perhaps even in the bed itself. A paper plate with a huge grease stain suggests that this phantasmal pizza may have once been there and existent at some point. The unopened caloric treasure trove on your desk may hint at your 7-eleven purchases: A bag of Cool Ranch flavored Doritos, sour neon gummy worms, 2 bags of Planters honey roasted peanuts, a Butterfinger candy bar, 3 slim jims, a bag of Snyder’s honey mustard and onion pretzel pieces, Red Bull, and a bag of gummy blue sharks. (Note: In no way am I sponsored by the aforementioned brands. Although these purchases may suggest that I am in some way a professional extreme sports participant, I promise that I am neither involved with the X-Games, nor the food sponsors that try to portray their product as somehow extreme. I truthfully cannot surf, ski, snowboard, skateboard, dirt bike, rally car, bmx, or pilot a snowmobile at all.)
Maybe all of this is a bad idea. A human being can only survive on gummy worms and cheap vodka for so long. There’s broken glass on my carpet. I must’ve broke one of my shot glasses at some point. I messed up my back deadlifting at the gym the other day. I’m supposed to be taking some medication for it, but I haven’t been because it’s not supposed to be consumed with alcohol. I am valuing my drinking more than my personal health. My back is destroyed I’m supposed to be resting it; I’m pretty sure I was walking around
for hours the night before, possibly dancing at some point. A person I live with had a track meet this morning and was trying to get a good night’s sleep. I’m pretty sure that my multiple drunken excursions to my house with multiple friends were far from the ideal decibel level. I look like shit. I legitimately smell like shit. Any sentient life in my room was killed by the quantum of farts I produced in the night. It’s 3pm and I’m still drunk. The night before wreaked such havoc upon me that I can’t even do real people stuff today. I blacked out last night, and it’s not even a rare occurrence. I could’ve killed somebody,
impregnated someone, taken a shit on some bed, and I would have no recollection of it-multiple times in the past few months. A stomach is not a logical moral compass at any point in time. I have no idea what happened last night.
But then you remember. Not what actually happened, only God knows the objectivity of what went down.You remember her. You remember how that seductive mistress, Night, came and tempted you with her forbidden fruits of alcohol and fun. With her midnight
black hair she beckoned you to come along with her on the adventure. You were like a child and she a woman as she guided you through it all. With shiny eyes you looked up at her sparkling majesty, lighting up your world as you drifted into sleep. It’s sad when you awake and realize she’s gone, and how the mundane tasks of the day at hand cannot compare with what transpired. But then you remember-Night is not a one-time type of girl. She comes back. She always comes back. And just as before, her hand gestures you to follow, and once again your resistance is weak and you lose yourself in her embrace. Your will to deny crumbles in her invitation. Night always comes back. And just as before, the potential of all that is and all that could be folds out before you and the ways of the universe are yours to command. The potential that Night always brings invites you into the creation of the human capacity for wonder and you become an artisan at work, crafting your experience.
The weekend only happens once a week. You may not always remember what happened, but you can always remember what was shared: a drink among friends and an excellent time. Night is not yet there, but you may just catch glimpses of her reflection as your eyes chance upon the surprise 7-eleven purchase of a 12-pack of Labbatt’s in the corner. So you brush your teeth, you take a shower, you do some homework, you do what people do. But when it comes time for what’s important, when it comes time for Her, you get off your ass, you drink some beers, you hit on women like the goddam seductive prince that you perceive yourself to be, and you always,always, make a memory with some of the best dudes you know- your best friends.
For a lot of us, there’s 3 ½ months left in this real life Candyland called college. It’s a Saturday and you will not be able to spend this Saturday the way you could in a few months. Maybe you work today. Maybe you have a lot of homework to do. Maybe you just want to stay in tonight. Maybe you’re not feeling alright. But when it’s time, there’s NO EXCUSES. You nut the fuck up, drink some goddam alcohol, and play like a fucking champion. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you get your shit together, get your friends,and get your ass to the bar tonight.
(Chugs beer, smashes it on the ground, is picked up and carried by cheering friends as Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” starts playing.)
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