How to Survive College: Rules 1-5

1) Upon arrival, meet everyone in your hall, you will have to see them everyday for the rest of the year, so try to make a good impression.

2) Especially during the first week of school (when first impressions are generally being formed) do not invite your boyfriend to your room for a session of vigorious, loud, obnoxious love-making.

3) Do not drink like a fish or a large whale, rather try not to make a drunken-mess of yourself by limiting your alcoholic intake to less than or equal to four drinks.

4) GET OUT OF YOUR ROOM. or at least keep the door open, for Christ's Sake!

5) Join every club and activity that you are interested in, don't wait until second semester, because by the time it rolls around, you will be left behind by everyone who got a jump-start on getting involved.

I just want to DANCE! well, sort of...

I don’t really care about money. I want to live comfortably and not have to worry about it, but I don’t want so much that I lose my head. I just want to travel. I just want to eat. I just want shelter, a companion, a family, a sense of who I am.

Thus begins my journey into my second year of College. It is the beginning of the summer, I have two jobs starting in a month. I am flying out East to see my pledge class for a weekend. I am trying to figure out what my future will be. I invite you to come along, and watch as I worry and make mistakes, and have the time of my life.

I'm "cool" AND "smart"....haha

Therefore I worry. Worry all the time. Not intense, anxiety-worry, but a light worry that follows me around and comes up in my day to day life. This worry is starting to hamper my mood. Why do I need to worry about whether my “BIG” sister likes me or not? Why do I have to worry if I seem “cool” to my sisters”? Why do I have to worry about being a crazy party girl, or a studious straight ‘A’ student? I don’t know.

"Deep, Intrusive conversations that girls love to have"...you know what I mean!

I have two groups of girl friends. One is the girls who lived in my hall freshman year. They know me better than anyone else at school. And they love me for who I am, as well as for who I pretend to be. My other group is less defined. My sisters, sorority sisters that is. You just judged me, I bet you ten dollars! Its ok, I judged them myself. Without going into too much detail, my sorority gave me something that I desired greatly: a large number of girls who would say hi to me around campus. Do you know what that gives a girl with low confidence and who worries about everything? I’ll tell ya, its security. It’s knowing that if all else fails in your life, there will be someone to pick you up, dust you off, and help you start over again. Also access to parties and booze, but not as importantly. I found my niche in my sorority, but my pledge class remained tight as a whole, which means that we all hang out together, in a large 24 person group. This makes it difficult to have those deep, intrusive conversations that girls love to have.

Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same

I live on the North Shore, thirty-three minutes from downtown Chicago, and five minutes from one of the wealthiest towns in America. My family lives in a large house in a safe, white neighborhood. It would be an understatement to say that I was sheltered as a youth. Everything in my life was handed to me: education, clothes, a car, and opportunities. I grew up deceiving myself, I thought that if I believe I wasn’t some spoiled rich white girl, then I wasn’t. But I was, and maybe still am. I found friends who were interested in volunteering and school. Who didn’t buy designer labels on the weekends with their moms, or wear pearls to school every day. I wanted to be a hippie.
My hippie phase is very comical, looking back on it. I thought that downloading a bunch of Bob Marley songs, and braiding my hair made me care more about the earth. HA. I just wanted to rebel against my upbringing. My poor mother. I think that she dearly wanted a little girl to take shopping and get manicures with her.

Insert Lawyer Jokes Here --->

I went to the library the other day. I bought 3 books. All three were on how to get into a top Law School. I just finished my freshman year of College, and thought that I better get a head start. The whole college search process caught me off guard, and by some wayside luck, I got into one of my “reach” colleges. Luck does not happen often, and less often in similar circumstances.

I went back to the library the next day, I picked up a book called “Eat, Pray and Love”. I read three pages, and then decided that I did not want to be a lawyer. I want to travel the world. I want to study Spanish in South America, and learn to cook in Italy, and find some perfect man with a sexy accent to take me home to meet his large loving family.

"Practically Perfect In Every Way"

My mother always says that once I put my mind to something, I get it done. The thing is, this rarely happens. My interest usually feigns soon after this mood ends, maybe a couple days later. I realize that it is stupid to want such silly things for myself. A million times I have promised to get in the best shape of my life. To eat healthy at every meal. To get a boyfriend. To get straight A’s.
What’s important in life? Is it those things which make of my appearance? Or those which make me feel more confident about my future? Is it relationships I have with people? Or myself?
The things I’ve found out are that the most important thing in life is to not know what all the important things are. The more one fixates themselves on one “most important thing” the more unreachable it becomes. Sorry.

My Inspiration, My Muse, My Integrity

I have this mood. I usually feel it coming on late at night, when I cannot sleep. It is ambition and spirituality mixed together. I feel empowered. I can conquer the world. My best thinking is done in this mood. I may very well be in that mood right now, or getting there. Nothing can stop me. I am as Zen as Gandhi and as spiritual as Buddha. It is a rush of feelings that I struggle to control with a pen and paper. Drawings of nonsensical things spur out. I make my life goals and plans. I make variations of the goals and plans. I make short-term goals. I vow to lose ten pounds. I research Pilates classes I can take. I make a study schedule.

Secrets, Secrets are no fun

The boy wanted to figure me out. I told him that I wanted him to leave me alone, that the conversations were stupid and circular. I was never going to give up my secret. My secret loathing of myself. My secret of low-esteem and shyness. My secret passion for travel, reading, languages, cultures, oddities. He would not leave me alone.
I am a huge fan of the chase. If there is no chase, it ain't gonna happen, sorry bucko. If the chase is weak, there's little hope. This one, he gave me a mighty chase. Went out with me twice, left me for another girl. Six months later sweeps me off my feet again, but only for me to say I don't want to label it. In my mind, once we're labelled, the chase is over. I am nothing without the chase.

Everytime I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer...

Headed into college, I attempted to reconstruct myself as cooler and more confident. My actions actually worked, and left me with a group of people who thought very highly of me. They thought that I was intelligent, beautiful, careless, and ambitious. Can a few skewed actions and thought out speeches really change one’s outlook of themselves? Apparently. Yet some people could see through the person I made up. These people frightened me. I was drawn to them, because I wanted them to find out for themselves what I am.

Don't Worry...Be Happy...or ya know, just fudge it a little

Why must worry consume our thoughts, without our consent? I watch as my little brother changes his attitude when my older “tortured” brother enters the scene. A smart and gentlemanly little boy turns into an angst-y teenager within seconds, in order to betray the fact that he indeed may have a different outlook on life than that of his brother. Ten years old. So young.

Choosing "To Be"

“To be or not to be, that is the question…”, is the beginning of an epic monologue from Shakespeare’s Hamlet of which the first twenty lines I was forced to memorize my senior year of high school. Why? Wrong question. The better question is: Why after nearly 2 years have I continued to hold prisoner that speech within my memory? Simple answer: appearance. I am not a naturally intelligent person, I consider myself average at most things. However, for one odd reason or another, I attract and am attracted to people of high intellect. For years I suffered as my friends gossiped about the gorgeous teacher in their Honors art history course, or of the like-minded crowd that appeared in all their classes; where I was stuck amongst the average crowd during the day. Oh how I yearned to be in those classes with them, with that elite group of people who have the privilege of saying, “I am an Honor Student at the Academy”. That is why I memorized the 19 lines after “To be or not to be…”, the 19 lines that really add no significance to the beauty or intrigue of that first line.