Michaela Tolpin | Privacy isn't what it used to be

Nothing beats a leisurely weekend brunch.

I treasure these meals, these few hours, to the point of reverence. They are my religion, and my ritual is pretty set: tea, fruit, homework, Simon, Garfunkel and a table outside ABP.

This weekend, however, after a week bursting at the seams with unadulterated evil (read: midterms), I made the drastic decision to alter my regiment.

I left the books and mp3 player at home.

A poor decision. Intending only to sit and enjoy my meal, I was instead forced into the category of an "unwilling eavesdropping creep." If such a category does not yet exist, it most certainly should.

At least for our campus.

I understand that college life is the antithesis of privacy; public and private domains are completely blurred and anywhere inside the rectangle that spans 33rd to 42nd and Market to Pine Streets can arguably be called "home."

But whatever happened to public etiquette? Or, more precisely, what happened to keeping your private life private?

Once I set my tea at my favorite table - the one closest to the Walk - I noticed a group of girls sitting directly to my left. These girls, vocally quite unchallenged, were laughing about their night.

I tried desperately not to listen in, to respect their privacy somehow, to save myself from graphic descriptions of men I could only hope to never meet, but their voices penetrated my subconscious. Against my will, I became privy to extensive recaps and in-depth analyses of their respective Friday nights.

The girls soon dispersed, complaining about homework, midterms and hangovers, leaving me behind, an unknown, unhappy and unfortunate connoisseur of their intimate habits. My head was still spinning as I tried to fathom the extent of Lauren's ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's best friend's puppy's promiscuity when a girl walked past, chattering away on her cell phone.

She, too, was offering a recap of her night. From the decibel level of her voice, I could only assume her deaf old grandmother was being spared no detail as to her granddaughter's thrilling escapades.

"He was sooo cute, but he could've been a better kisser," she screeched.

Poor granny.

Watching what you say in public is about more than simple etiquette or consideration for others; it's also about dignity and self-respect. At the risk of sounding like a 1950s housewife, girls, at least pretend to be ladies.

And guys - yes, even if you're in a frat - attempt the same (no, not being ladies, although that would be amusing). Broadcasting your escapades is not dignifying ... nor is it conducive to future success.

Case in point: While sitting in a class Monday afternoon, two boys sitting behind me thought it fitting to announce the romantic attempts of their drunken Homecoming weekend.

"This guy - he's an alum - he was going to text this girl and he was like, this has to be perfect . so he texts her 'You're the Paris Hilton of fat preppy girls.' It was amazing. And he was like - this works," one said reverently, and the other acted accordingly impressed.

The two then continued to discuss, in tones of awe, the poetic prowess of this mythic alum.

Charming, really.

Although my opinion is of little importance to these two unknown Econ classmates, is it really that difficult for them to at least attempt a facade of dignity?

After all, old habits die hard. In future work environments (or any environment, really), respect is not afforded to she who advertises any and all personal information. A veil of mystery, even if there's nothing to conceal, is conducive to interest - through curiosity - and to others caring about what you have to say.

Coming from someone who is forced to constantly monitor her decibel level, it's never too early to start training.

In a time when relationships are only "really serious" when they're "Facebook official," when cell phones keep us perpetually tuned in and mp3 players perpetually tuned out, "public" and "private" information and behavior is at a point of utter confusion. The two domains have been blended beyond the point of recognition.

Still, maintaining a certain consciousness of your surroundings and policing your behavior benefits all parties involved: yourself, the unwilling eavesdropping creeps and the poor deaf grandmothers of the world alike.

Michaela Tolpin is a College sophomore from North Caldwell, NJ. Her e-mail address is tolpin@dailypennsylvanian.com. Tuesdays with Michaela appears on Tuesdays.

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