Hi, I think your Uggs are really fucking stupid.

If I don't miss college everyday, then it's fair to say that I miss it most days. However, there is one thing that I do not, nor will I ever miss about my collegiate experience: stop-and-chats. To me, stop-and-chats are amongst the most loathsome social niceties anyone could ever resign themselves to. They're like the social equivalent of placing your utensils on correct sides of the plate. Point is, who cares where your knife is in relation to your fucking burger? And who cares whether or not I want to know if your fucking week will be a "tough one" or not? Still, while I lament their practice I must admit that I took part in them. In fact, I took part often.

There's few things I regret more about my UVM career than my proclivity for engaging in stop-and-chats. Christ, I feel like Garfunkel writing a letter to Simon outlining how much he despised "Bridge Over Troubled Water." Everyone knows it takes two to play. Spiteful rhetoric aside, listen, I caved to the social expectation I "believed" were a part of the whole UVM "deal." Who knows, maybe my life here in Korea insulates me from those scenarios in which mindless gab is commonplace? Maybe that's what happens when you live in a place where you're surrounded by an alien language 4.5 days out of the week? If so, great. That means I have 9 more months of utilizing conversation as a valid form of intra-personal inquiry every time I choose to employ it. But that's a totally unreasonable situation if you consider the long term.

I'm sure the reality is that stop-and-chats will persist throughout the better part of my next several decades. Thus, I think I had better find a place where I can safely engage in "s.a.c.'s" and not feel feel as I've compromised my sense of social agency. There's nothing wrong with casually asking someone if their week is going well. It's a polite thing to do, and sometimes there's even information you can gain which comes to your advantage. Ok, so I hereby admit that I might ask you in passing how your week is. I won't love what I'm doing, though I surely won't hate it either. But here's the compromise: if you ask me, "what's up?" in April while wearing Uggs and looking generally offensive, my response will most likely be, "Oh hi, I think your Uggs are really fucking stupid."