Friday, November 13th, 2013 

An overwhelming sensation took hold of me today as I rose from my tomb and greeted the fresh 21st-century air. The cascade of fresh colors, sounds and odors dominated my senses, moving me to my very core. With limited time at hand, it dawned on me that I would swiftly need to decide what to do with my very limited time in this “New World.” Next to my grave, I found a tidy invitation addressed to me, signed by a seemingly prestigious Lord Blackburn of Kappa Alpha Fraternity.

The invitation gave regards to a jubilee that he and his “brothers” would be hosting this very evening. I could hardly contain my bliss at the thought that some gentlemen of fine stature would be so kind as to preempt my awakening with an invitation to their estate. As I currently touch my pen to paper, I feel as though I do my emotions an injustice in confining them to mere words. With my transcendent excitement, I must away at once and prepare myself for the array of suitors I’m sure to encounter this eve.

Ta-Ta, -J.

Morning, Saturday November 14th, 2013

Within the confidential bars of mine own private diary, I feel it is safe for me to confide the extremities of my confounding surprise upon arriving at last night’s fête. I was told to arrive at the estate at ten o’clock, though much to my bewilderment, the grounds seemed to be uninhabited by anyone at leisure, let alone those engaged in carousing and merriment. The lateness of the hour was already draining my vitality, and disappointment only added to my despair.

I knocked on the door, and my dread was slightly assuaged in the presence of a man I assumed to be Lord Blackburn. “You’re early dude!,” he shouted from a close distance, as though I were miles away. He turned toward the interior of his abode and shouted crudely, “Bros! The classy chick is here!” Bounds of young men with peculiar ties and bright colored trousers loomed upon me, eyeing my fashion and physique. I tried to be bashful, but as I was just starting to feel venerated, a score of girls piled in through the door behind me. They spoke loudly and swiftly, always seeming to be talking of others: what Jessica was wearing, where Rachel was “pre-gaming;” it was all astonishingly confusing. I felt dizzy.

The men who had just begun to make me feel esteemed abandoned my presence for this new mass of women, and I felt unmatched. The evening was droll and dark from then on, my expectations of orchestral strings were stunted by what I can only describe as loud sound recordings of heavy machinery. Oh, but the modern folk seemed to truly adore it, and the more ail they consumed, the louder the machinery blared. I took residence beside the manor to rest my ears, when I was once again approached by Lord Blackburn. An ember materialized inside my bosom, rekindling my prospects for the evening.

After what seemed like only moments of airless conversation, he placed his hand atop mine, and I thought he was poised to make a major proposition to me. I hardly would have presumed that he would be in a position to ask for anyone’s hand in matrimony this evening, though his stature allured me to the point that I would have ascribed fair contemplation to a well-stated offer. Though a proposition of marriage is scarcely what he offered. He leaned in to kiss my mouth, only to receive my cold hand slapping across the side of his face. ‘Twas a nasty way to conclude my evening, though I resolved nothing other than to retire to my lodgings and pray for a better day hence. My head is riled up in an awful tempest this morning; I think I must let this diary rest and slumber further. I pray this evening will leave me more elated.

-J.

Evening, Sunday November 15th, 2013

As I look down on this page, I ponder how to possibly describe the summation of this experience in a time and place that are so foreign to me. Last night, I returned to the collection of estates on Eagle Row, and was plagued by the vicious surprise that it was as if Friday evening had played out a second consecutive term. All of the effervescent guests resumed their same positions, as if fated to carry out the same plots with hope at different results. It all struck me as an awful insanity, crystallized by the necessity for me to rebuff Lord Blackburn’s advances a second time. There is not much more I wish to confess of the matter, other than the truth that this outing has been an enlightening experience, if not enriching. I see now that my place in this refracted world has narrowed, and there may not be room for me here. Perhaps the change is a consequence of my own temperament; however, I rather believe it to be the fault of all those around me, as I always have.

-Jane

– By Robert Weisblatt 

Photo Illustration by Hagar Elsayed and Jenna Kingsley

Emory Wheel
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The Emory Wheel was founded in 1919 and is currently the only independent, student-run newspaper of Emory University. The Wheel publishes weekly on Wednesdays during the academic year, except during University holidays and scheduled publication intermissions.

The Wheel is financially and editorially independent from the University. All of its content is generated by the Wheel’s more than 100 student staff members and contributing writers, and its printing costs are covered by profits from self-generated advertising sales.