In the fall, I was so excited and nervous to be here. With all the new parts of my life keeping me busy, I skipped the phase of I-wish-it-were-still-summer that I have every October of my life. And while I looked forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, it was not because I wanted to get away from school, but that I wanted to see my hometown again. That last day of finals was actually a little sad, since I knew I’d be without my college friends for over a month. This was drastically different from the last day in December for previous years, when I stuffed everything in my backpack and drove out of the school parking lot as fast as possible.

What truly surprised me was that coming back to college this spring was interesting. In high school, coming back from break meant midterms, more studying, and many dull and long months to go. This year it meant new classes that I got to pick, seeing my friends again, and going out more. So far, my usual emotions during the school year have been off compared to years before. Until now.

Spring break is over, and I have two months stretched out ahead of me until summer. For once, my feelings line up exactly with how they were last April. Sure, my senior year at this time was filled with prom drama, AP studying and figuring out who got into which colleges. But now we have housing drama, exams, and figuring out who got what internship for the summer. The rest of this year felt so new, but these last few weeks have been very familiar. Not exactly in a good way. I am getting a little bored in my classes, which did not happen last semester because I think I was still in the I’m-at-college-and-everything-is-cool phase. I am thinking more and more about when I can finally keep my coat in my closet. I am procrastinating at even greater levels than the rest of the year.

While this makes life a little dull, I like knowing that college isn’t all that crazy and new. It’s still school, and if I made it through the last twelve years, I think I can handle the next three years… and 2 months.

So finally it is spring…well, at least the snow is sort of melting here, and the temperature is starting to average above freezing during the day. This is the time to be outside on the slushy grass or walking around campus, right?

Well, I wish. It seems like spring at college, I am realizing, is the time of the cold, the headache, the sore throat, and the contagious undergrads.

I’ve noticed everyone here is getting sick. I’m told it’s because I’ve never lived with so many people before, and that we’re all staying inside so much. Basically, germs are running wild. So drink your orange juice for Vitamin C and avoid sneezing classmates. Not that any of that really worked out well for me. And I must say, I’ve learned a very important lesson: taking care of yourself when you’re sick at college is the worst.

Despite feeling like death-slightly-warmed-over, I still have to get up and go to class, or at least go downstairs to get food. Unlike home, I don’t get chicken noodle soup and crackers (served to me in bed), but whatever is on the menu. All the way downstairs. Nope, there is no change in food or service just because I’m ill.

I have to get my own water, walk all the way down the hall to go to the bathroom, and share my room with a healthy person who is avoiding me like I have the plague. Which, thankfully, I don’t. Just a cold, and sore throat, and sinus headache and fever.

Even if I were home, with my family waiting on me hand and food, this week would’ve sucked. But at college, it’s even worse: I have to deal with it myself. I have to get myself to the health center if I think I need it, I have to walk to the pharmacy in town if I need a prescription, and I have to deal with the fact that everyone else on campus is dealing with this too, so no one is there to help me.

All that responsibility and independence I have loved at college has just become a nuisance.

Sure, I’m getting better. Somewhere between watching episodes of  House and making up fake diagnoses I began to recover. And I am grateful, because now I know that being sick is work here. It’s not a day-off or a sick day from school where you can just chill and relish in your bacteria. Life doesn’t stop when you get sick in college.

I guess that whole “college independence” isn’t so great when all you want to do is depend on getting better. There is nothing like a cold to make every college kid wish they were back home with mom.

So now I’m a second-semester freshman and I am finally getting the hang of what college is all about. And there are two myths that I was told over and over again were not true when I first got here, but I only now agree. I wish I had believed my older friends when they promised me these parts of college were just a stereotype. Instead I shied away from people my first semester, assuming college just couldn’t be so perfect.

First, upperclassmen are not nearly as scary as they seem. Despite the equal age gap between a freshman and senior in high school versus college, the latter feels much smaller. Last semester, I kept far away from anyone who didn’t fit the “oh-my-gosh-I-am-new-so-let’s-hang-out” stereotype. It was comforting to be with people in my same position. I loved my classes with only freshmen. Strength in numbers.

Now, I am the only freshman in my Spanish class, and I have to speak along with the Spanish majors and native speakers. I am also one of the few first years in my Intro to Linguistics class. And instead of feeling intimidated by my seniors, I used them as resources. In Spanish, I talk to majors and people who already studied abroad. It doesn’t matter our age if it’s an introduction course; we’re all learning something new in Linguistics. I wish I had talked to the sophomores, juniors and seniors more last semester. I feel like they would’ve been a great support system.

Another important myth I’ve learned is not true is that professors don’t care about their students. I go to a smaller college, so there are relatively small classes and we’re never taught by TAs. All of my professors have office hours, and I must admit, last semester I was scared to death to meet with them alone. I was sure they’d find my questions simplistic and not worth their time. This is not the case. From emails to office hours to asking questions after and during class, my professors have been so accessible. Whenever I get confused, they’re there. Two of my professors even gave out their home and cell numbers. To them, it’s not their job to lecture and give out grades. This isn’t just a cushy research position with the pesky requirement of teaching, too. It’s their job to help students understand. I finally appreciate that.

If I could have known that these myths were false on the first day of classes last fall, I think I would’ve felt much more comfortable in class. I probably would have created stronger relationships with my previous semester’s professors and I would have more than just freshman friends. Hopefully I can work on that this semester, and maybe next year I’ll be able to warn a freshman from believing the stereotypical college myths of professors and upperclassmen.

In some ways, I like the unclear path. I am taking classes because they sound interesting, not because they will help me complete a major. I am learning just because I want to, and my grades are just because I want to try my best, not because I know I am looking for a certain grad school or want to impress future employees. For all I know, I could be studying subjects which will be completely irrelevant to my future. So I have no pressure.

Except, I still have pressure. In some ways, it’s even more than I had in high school. Sure, it’s not like I know I have to get a certain GPA and do certain activities to get into college. But now that I’m here, I can’t believe there’s no more plan. I am the kind of person who plans out her entire future—not minute-by-minute or a 10-year-plan, more like a general idea of what’s to come– but now I have no concept of past college. All my life, I knew I was going to go to graduate high school and go to college. Now I’m here, and I can check that off the list.

What’s next? Grad school? An internship? A job? All I’ve ever done is be a student. I am good at that; I can study, write essays and take tests. I envy my friends who know what they want to be. One studies political science, so she wants to go into politics. One has a knack for design and math, and he’s planning on being an engineer.

I just like learning Spanish. But no, I don’t want to be a teacher, and right now I don’t think translating sounds that wonderful. I like writing, but I’m not betting on that being a life-long career. In fact, I like most of the subjects I learn, but none link directly to a career which catches my eye.

So here I am, one semester down, seven to go. And then what? Well, I guess I’ll figure that out soon, hopefully. But for now, I’ll settle for an undeclared student with no plans whatsoever except one part of her 10-year-plan: start planning one.

In fact, for the first time ever I am getting a little bored of vacation, and actually am looking forward to returning to school. That probably has more to do with missing friends and living out from under my parents’ roof more than homework and tests, but part of me actually wants to go to class rather than sit around and browse the internet for days on end. For once I have a place other than home where I am more comfortable.

The strangest part of being home is that I feel like I am on vacation, and not living here. For eighteen years this house has been my home-base, and now it’s more like my temporary housing before heading back to the dorms. I am not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, but I have definitely changed. Sure, there are the perks of being at home. I can shower without wearing flip-flops. I can leave my room a mess and let my mom wash my clothes for me (although this takes a little convincing, since supposedly if I can do my own laundry at school, I can do it at home, too). I can eat food that I actually pick, rather than the latest dining hall concoction.

Although I like the norm of being in my old room and driving my car again, I must admit that I prefer dorm life right now. Who would’ve thought that I’d rather live with hundreds of other girls than just my parents, brother, and dog? But I finally figured out the big difference—in the dorms, I take care of myself. I do chores like laundry or cleaning because I want to, not because I should. I eat when I want to, I sleep when I want to, and I make my own routine.

In the dorm life, I am on my own and have no one with expectations. No one is telling me that I need to wash my mug out or throw out the trash. I handle it myself. And while my classes are why I am in college, it’s the social changes which affect me the most. Home is no longer home base, but rather my hideaway where I can watch movies all day online. But in the end of winter break, when I open my dorm room door, I will really be back to my routine. I can’t believe I am saying this, but I sort of want vacation to be over.

Lots more!

Women have more partners, more one night stands and are more willing to talk about it than their male counterparts. That last fact may contribute to some skewed statistics (men may be having lots of sex but just don’t want to talk about it), but the trend highlighted in this poll is definitely right on target.

The modern woman is no longer waiting for her prince to swoop down and give her a happy ending; she is out there getting it (again and again) on her own. We don’t need to be in love to express our sexuality. We don’t need to be married to enjoy the natural, carnal instincts men have been enjoying since the beginning of time.

This poll proves that women are just as sexual of creatures as men, and that we view sex in similar ways. Women are not always out there to “find love” or “get serious”; many of us are out there looking for a little fun.

And it looks like we are finding it. The world of sex and love is changing, and women are coming out on top (pun intended).

My college is pretty secluded, so when I am here, I am in a little college bubble. Sure, I take care of myself and am independent, but I am surrounded by people I know, or people who would be happy to help me at any moment. Life is pretty simple here, if you ignore the fact that we’re constantly stressed from homework and no free time. But still, if I spent four years within the college limits, I would never learn how to really take care of myself.

Getting away from this bubble at first made me nervous, but now brings me relief. Since I am so close to Boston, I can take the bus into the city and just roam around. I can eat real, non-dining-hall food, and walk past faces that I don’t recognize. And I can be on my own.

College is teaching me all about how to learn. I will leave it with a degree and lots of facts in my head. But hopefully this small-town girl will also learn how to take public transportation, walk through a crowded sidewalk, and be comfortable alone in a city. Getting off-campus can be just as educational as staying on it. And by the end of my four years, I want to say that my time her taught me not just how to learn, but how to live.

This is the first time in my life where the amount of time spent in the classroom is significantly less than the amount of time doing work outside of class. Homework used to be a couple of hours a night, which seemed impossibly cruel after spending all my morning and most of my afternoon plunked in a desk at school. Now, class is brief and concise. There’s no taking attendance or explaining the homework. All we do is learn.

I like that I don’t have to spend unnecessary amounts of time doing absolutely nothing in class. But these short classes lead to another change from high school—lots and lots of out-of-class work. Although I have many more hours free than last year, I still feel as busy as ever. But almost two months into college, I think I’ve found my balance. The library has been my savior more than once on a Saturday when my friends and my cozy bed tried to beckon me away from my papers to write. Bringing my food up to my room to eat has given me an extra half an hour to read over a paper before it’s due. Most importantly, I’ve noticed that I have resources through peers and professors which I’ve never encountered before.

All in all, I know I may seem insanely busy to those around me. But there’s a difference between the busyness of this semester and my hectic, stress-filled days of high school. I am choosing these classes; I am choosing to write these essays on these topics; I am choosing to work harder than I would be if I were back home. For once in my academic life, I am busy learning, not busy doing useless assignments. So bring on the papers, I am ready to work.

Sure, it was nice to be home. But I kept feeling like I had to go back to school, like this was more of a temporary sleepover than a homecoming. While the weekend kept me busy from noticing that my house was not exactly home, it also uncovered a new strangeness which college created—meeting up with high school friends.

Most of my high school friends, all of whom I have known for years, go to college within two hours of my hometown. So when a few of us come home for the weekend, we all come home for the weekend. And while I loved being around people who never need an explanation for my random songs or not-funny jokes, it was also startling to see how just a few months have changed us.

I left my friends for the entire summer, and I noticed little change when I came back. But now my friends are not just sitting around their houses or working at the local Dunkin’ Donuts; they’re making friends, testing their boundaries and (some of them) are becoming people who I never would have talked to in high school. When it’s just the few of us watching a movie or walking around town, I can’t entirely ignore the college sweatshirts, new belly-button rings and anecdotes starring new best friends. I can’t pretend that this is last June, when we all just graduated and were ready for something new.

We all desperately needed something different from our perfect little hometown. Well, we got what we wanted. And now, the constant of friends and home have been fogged. When I walked back into my dorm after Fall Break, arms filled with cleaned laundry and warmer coats, a friend leaned over the balcony and said hello. I realized then that while my house and my friends will never be exactly the same as they were, they will still be there for me when I need to escape from college.

But now I don’t need to escape so much. When I enter the dorm, I have people welcoming me home.

[Photo courtesy of danielbowen.com]

Of course I would spend every high school moment from that morning bell—which seemed to ring earlier and earlier as my senior year wore on—to the final bell with my friends by my side. I was part of a bunch of different groups, all of which met after or before school and surrounded me with people. But at home, I had solitude.

With both my parents working and my brother off at college, I spent many nights doing homework, watching bad television and heating up leftovers all by myself. Some may think that would be lonely, but I really liked the peace and quiet.

It’s never quiet here. And sometimes I like it; with all the commotion, I haven’t had time to get homesick or have a culture shock freak out. There’s a feeling of community when I walk around campus and see someone I know or when I strike up a conversation with a stranger in the dining hall. Yet every once in awhile I realize… I never have a moment to myself.

I don’t sing anymore. No, I wasn’t a good singer, but I used to belt out lyrics while driving to school or doing some late-night studying with the radio on, my iPod providing a soundtrack for every occasion. Now, even when I’m sitting alone in my dorm room, I know anyone can walk by and hear me. When I’m walking alone around campus I know there is probably a person around the corner. And when I study in the library, I have to stop every three minutes to talk to a person who saw me and wanted to say hello.

In some ways I love that there are people always wanting to say hello. I’ve never been so friendly to so many people before, and I think some of them will actually become life-long friends, not just Orientation-buddies. But I also love the sound of silence, and there is precious little of that in college. Someone is always chatting loudly on her phone or blasting bad rap music from her car or playing the piano in the common room. Endless chatter, the bass of a car stereo and the notes of a musical instrument: this is my new soundtrack.

And soon I will learn to sing along with it, but for now I will start with just a tap of a foot, and maybe a hello in the library.

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