You have arrived at the web home of Noah Brier. This is mostly an archive of over a decade of blogging and other writing. You can read more about me or get in touch. If you want more recent writing of mine, most of that is at my BrXnd marketing x AI newsletter and Why Is This Interesting?, a daily email for the intellectually omnivorous.

August, 2004

Moving to College

For those who read my website regularly, be advised that the following doesn't include any references to RSS and other dorky stuff. You have been warned!

I helped my little sister move off to college this weekend and came away with three observations. First, watching girls move into a dorm room is far different than watching guys. Beyond just the amount of clothes that come in the room, there is a certain female tension that just doesn't seem to exist for guys (at least not in my experience). I think it's mostly about the fact that most guys are willing to duct tape shit to walls.

My second point is that parents need to not be allowed in to the room for dorm setup. They really just screw the whole thing up. I firmly believe that the four kids moving into that dorm room could have figured out their whole setup without half the stress if it weren't for all the parents walking around lobbying for their children. It's ridiculous. I know every parent wants their kids to get a fair shake, but why don't they all just get the hell out of there and let the four people who will actually be living in the room figure it out? At one point I couldn't even stand in the room anymore, the level of tension was through the roof and no one was communicating. It was really a sad state of affairs. In the end it's the kids who live there, so leave them all alone. It's college, they've made it this far, why not let them figure this one out for themselves?

My third point: The George Washington University has more sandals per-capita than any other school on the East Coast. It's got to be true.

Whatevs Leah

August 29, 2004
Noah Brier | Thanks for reading. | Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk.