Apple pie has always been an American fave, sure, but that term “easy as pie” doesn’t really apply to me. What is easy about cutting up a billion apples, making a crust and then waiting to eat it? So when I decided I wanted something similar, I made myself something akin to a mini apple pie, sans the irritating process of cutting up apples.

We all remember it like it was yesterday, clear as crystal in our minds: the utter horror of our college admissions office.  The whole process of trying to pick something to wear that was nice, but not church-gaudy; the confusing drive to the school; the awkward wait outside of the  office staring at current students walking around with confidence you wish you could have even a fraction of; the fear of saying something stupid or, worse, not being able to …

Sure, I’m glad that the semester is more than half over. Sure, I’m happy that the holidays are fast approaching. Sure, I’m glad that it’s my favorite season. But with all the awesome things that this time of the year brings along, there’s something that I just can’t stand, something that always comes around, and I sure as hell don’t mean the premiere of Redemption Song or the Law and Order marathon.

I mean being sick.

Not just “being sick,” …

You hear the same marketing crap all the time: you’re in college to better your future.

Of course, having a Bachelors doesn’t really do anything anymore. I’ve heard about a ton about people who have their Bachelors and are working at a Domino’s or something. Getting a Masters seems like the next logical step, for students and apparently their parents. So is it such a bad thing that I really don’t want to go?

Being around a ton of people …

My mom always told me that when things get rough, sometimes you have to “just be.” I never understood that, really; I’d just nod and agree and then go back to freaking out over whatever I was doing right beforehand. But you know, the more stuff you have to do, the more you realize that yeah, you do have to just be. Calm down. Chillax.

After a week filled with tests, papers, about five gallons of coffee, and way too …

“Is it supposed to be this hard?” I whined to my mom in an email on Tuesday night. I remember in years gone by that seniors generally didn’t seem like they were having problems until the second semester, when the crunch really hits. But sure enough, Tuesday afternoon saw me sitting on the floor, looking despondently at the mess in my room while scarfing down Lucky Charms like my life depended on it.

Taking 20 credits, working two jobs, and …

For a college in stereotypical Smalltown USA, I always thought that good ol’ WAC was a good progressive college, accepting of just about anybody. True, I’m in the VAST black minority in my school, even if they’re attempting to up the number of enrolled black students. But no one really seemed to ever judge me (and if they did, they did an awfully good job at hiding it), and it’s part of why I love my campus.

But I’ve noticed …

You do it every year without fail. There’s a string of weeks where you’re nice and organized with all your notes in the right folders, laundry done as soon as you’re running low on undies and putting everything where it belongs. And then, you forget your planner and decide you don’t feel like really carrying it, or you’re too tired to do that load of laundry…

Okay, it might not happen to you, but it happens to me.

Barely two …

It’s weird how when you’re away from your campus for so long and you finally roll into familiar stomping grounds, you feel like you never left. It seems like a dumb and cliché thing to say, but there’s something about being dropped from one familiar place (home) to another familiar place (school) that erases what little shock value might want to rear its ugly head.

Maybe it’s because I wanted to come back to school more badly than ever before, …

Going away to school is intimidating enough. You’re in a place you know nothing about, and if you’re far enough away from home, you probably don’t know anyone who goes there. You’re pretty much dumped in a completely foreign surrounding and told to hit the ground running. If you’re lucky, in some places the ground is made of nice recycled tire mulch. More realistically, though, it’s dirt with a few twigs and stones. And sometimes the ground is cement.

Obscure …