Rush

This morning as I walked my daughter to school, I found myself singing an old rush song.  And I'm not referring to the band, though I love them as well (best Canadian band EVER).  I'm referring to a sorority rush song.  That's right.  I'm a closet former sorority girl.  I'm faintly horrified to admit it, but there it is.  I had a real love-hate relationship with the greek system.  On the one hand, it was thrilling as a socially inhibited young woman to be welcomed  into such an organized social network.  There were parties every night of the week and scores of adorable boys on hand.  However, living in a precious pastel house with sixty other girls was quite the challenge.

We had all of the stereotypical sorority nonsense going on at our house.  We had the bulimia bathroom, the night terrors on the sleeping porch, the jewelry thieves, the boyfriend stealers, the drug addicts, the depressed, the manic and the unwanted.  It was quite a ride.  I kept a horrible and venomous boyfriend for three years mainly because I wanted to crash at his house instead of my own.  I wish I could have a do-over.  Anyway, thinking about these things makes me yearn for a keg party and a pack of camel lights.

I recently had the guilty pleasure of reading the book Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities, by Alexandra Robbins.  Robbins spent a year going undercover to infiltrate the Greek system by following the activities of four young pledges.  She gives a firsthand account of the ups and downs of sorority life.  If you've ever experienced the greek life yourself, brace yourself for a mix of horror and nostalgia.  If not, just enjoy the ridiculousness of it all.