Still ain't no cure for the summertime blues

Rashaun Ellis
DM Staff Columnist

Sometimes I don't think things could get any worse. First, I have no car. Then, I have to go to summer school. Plus, I have to work all summer, too.

It's sort of like in "Office Space" where a co-worker tells someone, "Sounds like someone's got a case of the Mondays," and laughs gleefully at the corny joke. I don't have a case of the Mondays, but I guess you could call it a case of the summers.

I never imagined that I'd be spending a summer this way: stuck in a dorm with my bratty sister and taking classes from professors who don't understand attendance policies. First session was a drag. Neither of my classes went very well and I still don't have a car. I scheduled my classes for 10 a.m. and noon, thinking that later classes wouldn't be so hard to motivate myself to go to, but boy, was I wrong.

The times aren't too early for me and the classes aren't too far away, but it was the fact that it's SUMMERTIME! Summer isn't supposed to be classes and dorm rooms, but sunburns and swimming and family members that you haven't seen in ages. I'm not supposed to be cursing the name of my English teacher; I should be in Memphis somewhere, tearing the club up!

It's all my fault that I'm here anyway. Too much slacking off and partying during the past scholastic year left me in a situation called "academic probation," so I'm still here left to grace the pages of this fine paper. I can't blame anyone but myself for sealing my fate for two months, and right now I'm hating myself for it.

Every other summer of my young life was spent at family reunions or sleeping until three in the afternoon; then getting up and going to the city pool until it closed at five. In high school, my summers changed a bit; I started working slave labor at McDonald's but I still found time to sneak up the highway to Tennessee to turn the party out with 500 of my closest friends in Midtown.

This summer, my first during my college years, has been spent in Oxford and with no car. I have no access to transportation other than calling my parents, who are making little effort to repair my car, and are quite stingy with their own vehicles. I spend most evenings in the Farley Hall basement, and after that I just go to my room and sleep. No clubbing, no drinking, no fun at all. Just loud neighbors and a roommate with an obsessive-compulsive disorder.

About a week ago, a co-worker and myself decided that we'd go to Memphis on a weeknight. After work, we both got cleaned up, climbed into his car and headed for a dance party at a local club. Not many people were there, but they were all people that I knew, so we socialized and giggled there until we decided to go sing a little karaoke at another club. When we got there it was packed full of people, and a drunk man insisted that I sing "Unforgettable" with him. I hesitantly complied and we spent about two hours waiting while the drunk guy sang along with everyone else and hit on my friend.

It got late; we ditched our song and headed to an IHOP, where I stuffed my face before we came back to Oxford.

You want to know the point I'm trying to make? That generally bland and uneventful night was the most fun I've had all summer.

Rashaun Ellis is a sophomore journalism major from Grenada. She can be reached at trellis@olemiss.edu.