2008 Woodie Awards
column about nothing
Kate Moss, Paris Hilton, and Marist Girls
Morgan Nederhood
Issue date: 12/7/06 Section: Features
- Page 1 of 1
As I walk up the stairs to my floor, I detect a slight beat wafting down the stairwell, and I immediately know that it is either Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night. I open the hall's door, and my senses are assaulted by an overload of noise and commotion. The girls are obviously primping for a night at a club or party.
It is only 8:30 at night, and the music has already begun - usually it will not start until 9:30 or 10:00. As I walk to my room at the end of the hall, my eyes and ears are overwhelmed with the scene: Almost every single door is open, and as I look through each doorway, I see about four girls per dorm room. Girls run from one room, to the bathroom, to another room, and then they dash back to their first room. My eyes are practically bleeding from seeing such an indecent amount of my floor mates' bodies, and the overabundance of sequins, glitter, and jewels is causing me to squint.
I continue down the hall, and my head is invaded by an onslaught of techno and pop beats. Rather than play their favorite mixes to themselves, most of the girls spread the love by opening their doors and blasting some tunes. Walking through four different songs all at once is a disturbing experience that usually renders me confused and overwhelmed. My mind is only able to handle one song at a time, so the thought of four songs is positively terrifying. These play lists all have the same common ingredients: Ashlee Simpson, N*SYNC, and Justin Timberlake. For some extra flair, a few rap and techno songs can be heard every so often. Nothing is wrong with these artists, as long as they are practiced within moderation. I constantly wonder if the songs are played loud enough to create beats able to make a pace-maker skip. I think it's possible.
Between the bodies everywhere, the glitter, and the mind-numbing beats, walking to my room is a mind-boggling experience, and it is easy for a homebody like me to feel overwhelmed. I imagine it is basically the equivalent of snorting five lines of coke and then attending some underground rave in Amsterdam. All the hall needs is a strobe-light and some black or grey paint on the walls, and we're set.
Most nights, I will flee to the safety of the sixth floor, and then re-emerge once the clubbers have left. Trying to do much of anything with a rave all around you is distracting, to say the least. I once attempted to watch a movie, only to have Ashlee Simpson scream, "I like it better when it hurts," in the middle of a death scene. Yes, it was a bit of a mood-killer. By 11:00 or 11:30, most of the party has left the building, and absolute silence ensues. Now, all I have to do is wait for 2:30 or 3:00 a.m., when the girls come back.
It is only 8:30 at night, and the music has already begun - usually it will not start until 9:30 or 10:00. As I walk to my room at the end of the hall, my eyes and ears are overwhelmed with the scene: Almost every single door is open, and as I look through each doorway, I see about four girls per dorm room. Girls run from one room, to the bathroom, to another room, and then they dash back to their first room. My eyes are practically bleeding from seeing such an indecent amount of my floor mates' bodies, and the overabundance of sequins, glitter, and jewels is causing me to squint.
I continue down the hall, and my head is invaded by an onslaught of techno and pop beats. Rather than play their favorite mixes to themselves, most of the girls spread the love by opening their doors and blasting some tunes. Walking through four different songs all at once is a disturbing experience that usually renders me confused and overwhelmed. My mind is only able to handle one song at a time, so the thought of four songs is positively terrifying. These play lists all have the same common ingredients: Ashlee Simpson, N*SYNC, and Justin Timberlake. For some extra flair, a few rap and techno songs can be heard every so often. Nothing is wrong with these artists, as long as they are practiced within moderation. I constantly wonder if the songs are played loud enough to create beats able to make a pace-maker skip. I think it's possible.
Between the bodies everywhere, the glitter, and the mind-numbing beats, walking to my room is a mind-boggling experience, and it is easy for a homebody like me to feel overwhelmed. I imagine it is basically the equivalent of snorting five lines of coke and then attending some underground rave in Amsterdam. All the hall needs is a strobe-light and some black or grey paint on the walls, and we're set.
Most nights, I will flee to the safety of the sixth floor, and then re-emerge once the clubbers have left. Trying to do much of anything with a rave all around you is distracting, to say the least. I once attempted to watch a movie, only to have Ashlee Simpson scream, "I like it better when it hurts," in the middle of a death scene. Yes, it was a bit of a mood-killer. By 11:00 or 11:30, most of the party has left the building, and absolute silence ensues. Now, all I have to do is wait for 2:30 or 3:00 a.m., when the girls come back.
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