I started this blog as a Senior in high school, and regrettably neglected to continue updating it. I’m now a freshman in college, just finishing up my first semester, and revisiting this page has not only sparked nostalgia, but has rekindled my dedication to this blog. When did I stop writing for pleasure?
Let me begin by saying that I am now home on break, patiently awaiting final grades to be posted, reflecting with both heartwarming nostalgia and cringe-worthy regret. This semester consisted of 5 classes (which I will list from the class I most enjoyed to the class that made me want to commit murder) :
- Cultural Anthropology
- Problem Solving Applied to Science and Technology
- Personal Wellness
- College Algebra (aka 8 am Dream Crusher)
15 credits. Mom, I made it! There’s so much to say about this journey, so this may become a mini series. Maybe next will be advice (what to bring/not bring, things I wish I had known, general tips, ect.), embarrassing stories, or just my rambles … I can see a lot blossoming from this college mini series. I’ll start with the best part.
When Charles Dickens wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” in A Tale of Two Cities, I think I can safely assume he wasn’t talking about college. However, I cannot think of a more concise and poetic summary of my experiences to date.
I can honestly say the best part of college wasn’t the heart-pounding, wall-to-wall crowded, crazy adrenaline-filled parties (although those were pretty cool).
And it definitely wasn’t sharing an 11′ x 15′ room with another person who started the year as a stranger (although the way we arranged/decorated is incredibly cozy).
Or sharing a bathroom (3 toilets, 3 showers) with the other 27 girls in my hall. Think no sacred alone time for pooping, hair clogged drains, and the dreaded shower flip-flops.
And we all know the best part wasn’t waking up for 8 am classes (especially when one of them is the spiritual realm of evil and suffering- math).
It certainly couldn’t have been the 120 miles separating me from Jenny, my best friend from high school, or the 2 hour drive to see my family and, bless his paw prints, my puppy.
Watching the soap opera-like drama of my dorm hall unfold, popcorn in hand, was entertaining, but not the best moment of college. Same goes for watching the hilarious drunk students bathing in the fountain on the Quad at 1 am.
Perhaps the fear of the “Freshman 15” being perpetuated by my professional avoidance of the gym and the delicious dining hall food.
No, of course not. Really, the best part was Meghan. The best part was Annie. The best part was Ryan and Tommy and Emily and the countless other friends I’ve made in this short amount of time. The ones I made scrambled eggs with at midnight. Who showed me how to climb up a tree onto the roof of a dining hall. The friends that I went to Chick-fil-A with every Tuesday and the friends I could who I could knock on their door anytime and feel welcome. I couldn’t have done it without them.
Sure, you can make friends anywhere you go. But I will defend with all I have that the friendships formed in dorm halls are of a special breed. There’s a special bond formed when you’re all living together, going through the same stresses of finals and exams, wondering whether it is worth braving the cold and going to a dining hall or just ordering Chinese delivery again. They’ve seen you in your pajamas, with make-up smeared and hair in a bun, and they’ve held your hair as you regretted that last shot. They’ve crammed with you for hours at the library, they’ve entertained “Movie Night” every Thursday, and stayed up with you discussing the hottest RA’s.
College can be a really scary transition. Friends, however, can change all that. Meeting these people has been, undoubtedly, my favorite part of college so far.