Smart+Harvard=DNE

Don't judge me by the title. At least, not yet. Hear me out first. Thought actually went into this post. See, I've realized that, in order to regularly post bits of the story that I'm writing, I actually need to be writing the story. Thus far, I have made no progress, and cannot count on it in the next little while. I'd say that I'm suffering through writer's block, but it's more of a confusion. I have a plethora of ideas (my new favourite word, by the way: plethora), but I don't know which ones I should actually use. I feel like I need to put everything together to create the ultimate novel, but at the same time, I don't want to have a garbage dump of a story. For this reason, I will simply rant today. 

So on to the main topic of today's post. It's random, yet not-so-random. I went on a visit to Harvard a couple months ago, and I was extremely excited. I wanted to meet new and interesting people of incredibly high intelligence and talent so that they could inspire me to become a better person myself. Unfortunately, I realized very quickly that intelligence and Harvard don't always relate to one another. Of course, the campus is swarming with wannabe and potential Einsteins and Bill Gateses, but there is also an almost equal amount of people who, according to its reputation, just don't belong there.

Case in point: As part of my trip, I got to stay in a girl's dorm-suite. It consisted of a living/rec room-style open area that led off to a bathroom and four bedrooms. These ranged from closet-size to bigger than my own room at home, and there was no equitable way to decide who gets what. But moving on, the girl I was staying with, to my immense surprise, turned out to be a complete bitch. A spoiled one who didn't display any semblance of intelligence throughout my entire stay, I might add. Her tasks consisted of showing me around campus, introducing me to people, and giving me an overall impression of what Harvard was like. Instead, she abandoned me in her suite for over three hours, alone with nothing to do but my homework. When she finally returned, she talked to me for all of two minutes before one of her roommates came back. Incidentally, that day had been this roommate's 21st birthday, and so very loud squealing and excited babble quickly ensued. (Considering how loud and high-pitched their voices were, I'm surprised there weren't any complaints. In fact, I'm surprised that they were that loud at 11 o'clock at night to begin with. What about respecting their fellow dorm-mates? Guess not.) The two sat down on the couch and proceeded to utterly ignore me while gossiping about a whole slew of people I felt grateful never to have had to meet. I had a feeling that even knowing one of them would put me in their "Marked to Kill" list.

This lasted for about twenty minutes when, suddenly, Miss 21 sprang up from the couch and screamed, "Ohmigod! I totally forgot!" She ran into her room and a second later...came back out with a pair of the most hideous boots I have ever seen in my life. My host squealed yet again, also jumping off the couch, and the two started examining every inch of the rubber (which resembled something used to make car tires). When I heard what the price was, I nearly choked on air, while my host said something about it being a good deal. Say what? They're RUBBER BOOTS. They look like what the people who work in sewers wear. No lie. After a close examination of the boots, they sat back down on the couch and started a discussion of clothes. CLOTHES. Really? I mean, I have nothing against that, and am a fan of fashion myself, but when you have someone visiting from another country, that seems like a dubious choice for a topic of conversation. 

Ten more minutes passed by, and a third roommate walked in. She quickly proved herself to be exactly as shallow as the other two, but with a slight difference: she was a little slower (read: a lot dumber), and therefore needed continuous confirmation that her opinions were, indeed, the right ones. 

The following morning, after an almost entirely sleepless night, my host and her boyfriend were leading me to breakfast. "Breakfast" was a relative term, and consisted of a couple starch muffins and a Styrofoam cup of lukewarm tea consumed on-the-go. To make matters even worse (didn't realize, at the time, that that was even possible), after a bit of conversation, their already condescending way of speaking to me got even worse when they started ridiculing the fact that I was Canadian. An example? When I mentioned something being 12 meters in length, the two glanced at each other and smirked. The girl said, "What is that in feet? I don't do meters." Her despicable boyfriend? "You mean like...parking meters?" 

Yes, asshole. That's exactly what I meant. 

There were more instances, but I won't mention them because it will take way, way too long. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not saying that Harvard is a lie. It's not. To my relief, I did meet two people who seemed very normal and actually smart, just like what people imagine Harvard students to be. But I met a total of maybe twenty people, and only 10% of them I didn't dislike. That's not very good.

Don't judge Harvard by my experiences, though. My friend went there and absolutely loved it. Maybe I just had a very unfortunate trip. Maybe I just happened to meet all of the unlikable people that go there in one and a half days. Maybe I just happened to come at an extremely bad time, causing everyone I met to be in a disagreeable mood.

Then again, maybe not. But I can never be certain. All I know is that I never want to have to go there ever again.

Candidly yours, 
Aya

NOTE: I had to rewrite this post twice because my computer crashed. I tried very hard the first time around, and it was really good. I got very upset. You better like this one.