My life is a summation of my Facebook statuses. Sad but true. Actually, upon three seconds of reflection, it really isn't that sad. My statuses are not littered with emoticons (which I know makes them super boring), nor are they a dull list of my daily activities or lofty declarations of my love for my baby, boy or sugar daddy. Most of the time my statuses are about food. And that is not sad at all.
There is such a thing as comfort food - it's simply called food. I have discovered that college is conducive to situations that make me ... uncomfortable, sad, stressed, angsty and teenager-esque. While I could simply state my problems to the world (midterm tomorrow), I'd rather solve them, then share my successes. Success on Oct. 1 looked something like this: just because it's stale doesn't mean it doesn't taste good.
I realized something about food and Facebook and funny truths that everyone can relate to - they're all wrapped up in one another. Do not underestimate the effects of a social networking site! It contributes exponentially to my social life. Okay, maybe not exponentially, but at least a little bit. Long lost friends from high school and relatives I wouldn't otherwise communicate with 'like' and comment on my statuses all the time. They appreciate that I appreciate the effects of food. I appreciate that someone looks at my page because that means they might be checking out the hot new pics I posted.
Food brings people together. I don't always eat simply for comfort. Sometimes I'm actually hungry. And sometimes I eat simply because other people are eating. If it looks fun and smells edible, it must be a good idea. Oct. 10's peer pressure eating resulted in this Facebook status: chicken and dumplings + smores + everything else i can get my hands on = late night binging at its finest. Apparently, my grammatical prowess declines late at night. But what really matters are the lessons I learn from these kinds of experiences.
Busting into Little John's or Christian's at 2 a.m. is fun enough, but if you're really looking for an intimate experience with your hall or suitemates or newly discovered dance partners, sit on the floor of your hall or common room. BEFORE you sit down, run up and down the floors of your dorm searching for food. Running is good prep for the amount of food you're about to throw back. Somebody's room will be the food cart. In my dorm, it's my room. Share the Cocoa Puffs and the Flavor Blasted Gold Fish. It's all part of the bonding experience. These tired stressed college kids feel the same way you do. Food is comforting enough. Sharing it on the crumb littered carpet at two in the morning is what inspires Facebook statuses.
I've eaten at Basil and reveled in the insalata con funghi. Marinated portobello mushrooms are much preferable to mushrooms that are neither marinated nor portobello. I've eaten at Vivace and enjoyed (because too much reveling goes to the head) chicken marsala and some other sort of insalata. I didn't have to pay for either meal, I got to see my high school debate coach in the Mediterranean and my family in Italy, and I got to say things like "Can I eat the rest of yours" and "Actually, I'm going to finish mine by myself".
But neither experience led to a Facebook status update. I didn't need comfort food because I had comfort people. I didn't need to work through my eating habits because I wasn't going through anything difficult at the time. I was dabbling in my past, when food was great and tasty but never necessary.
Several hours later, college life returned. The early morning after my Vivace meal tasted a lot like Fruity Pebbles, roommate bonding was going down again, except this time I was bonding with my roommate's cereal while she was out of town. My sister attacked the food cart she always wished she'd had, and we went to sleep after too much damage was done.
Hours after food cart rage looked something like this: "I tried to eat the Oreo Cakesters and then ..." which referenced my sister's fun with the cart. Sunday on Oct. 18, my sister looks up at me with a pained expression and recounts the food she ate hours earlier. Not the fancy salad at the Italian restaurant but the ranch flavored chips and the Nutella. I laughed and didn't stop until I updated my Facebook status. We had a fun night but we needed one more thing (eh, many things) to celebrate the evening and to reward ourselves for traipsing through frat parties in the rain and cold. We weren't stressed or sad, but we needed that food to cement our place in the mountain of food wrappers that is my dorm room. We had dabbled in home and family and normal sized portions. But it was time to return to the new lives we loved - the lives we were beginning to grow comfortable with.
I reach for food when I can't handle stress and work and the fact that I need to work out after I eat so much. In the end, food isn't the fun. It's what makes the fun so much tastier. And I'm always willing to let everyone know about my palate's adventures.
Connelly's column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at c.hardaway@cavalierdaily.com.
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