But before you sign those papers to withdraw from college – or the college experience – completely, let me tell you: college is awesome. It’s exciting and fun and full of new people, new places, new experiences. This is the beginning of the rest of your life! You’ll find your lifelong friends and deepest passions while occasionally losing your cell phone and too many hours of sleep. You’ll wake up with more stress than your shoulders can handle and fall asleep in shock at what you’ve achieved in a single day. Because for the first time, it really is all about you: learning from your past (or leaving it behind), savoring the present and focusing on your future.

It’s just the first month that’s incredibly and painfully rough: you’ll feel like you’re the weird new kid on campus, contemplate breaking up with your high school sweetheart and crave the company of family, friends and homemade cooking. But honestly, it’s all the unfamiliarity of these years that holds so much potential for what it all could be. And it could be – no, it’s going to be – absolutely great.

Don’t listen to all your friends at other schools who are “lovin’ it!”. They’re not. Well maybe some…but most people admit at the end of freshmen year that the first month was more scary than fun. More lonely than they thought it would be. So just know that it will get better and you will have fun. It takes time to make the bestest friends of your life. You probably won’t meet them the first month.

And with the help of CollegeCandy, you’ll quickly learn how to navigate in these new waters: which classes you really should be taking, how to look chic after rolling out of bed, what recipes are actually manageable and how to do your makeup so you really do look like that girl on your fake ID. CollegeCandy always has the campus scoop that you’re hungry for, all you have to do is make sure you’re getting fed!

I mean, sure, part of me revels in the fact that this will be the last year I am forced to deal with pretentious professors and overzealous freshmen. No more writing papers on topics I just don’t care about or being forced to take core courses I have no use for. (I am a currently taking Plagues, Outbreaks and Biological Warfare for my science requirement. I can be bitter.) No more late night cram sessions or midterms. Or finals. No more college.

But no more college doesn’t just mean no more classes, its means no more college. No more college means no more built in, ever expanding social network. No more themed parties or club sponsored events or months off in between semesters. No more college means that I’m going to have to join the real world.

So with that in mind, I’ve decided I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. I’m a recently 21-year-old, single college girl with way too much to worry about. I have every reason to check out and give in to that oh so tempting state of being known as Senioritis. The only problem? Life won’t let me. You see, it seems that Junior Jenn was much more eager than Senior Jenn. Junior Jenn believed that writing a senior thesis would be fun, that attempting to finish out both of my majors in the fall semester was a great idea, that taking on leadership roles in clubs would be worth it, and that – oh yeah – taking on the roll of tutor in addition to already working 10+ hours a week would be the right thing to do.

Granted, Junior Jenn had good intentions, but Senior Jenn? She’s feeling the pressure.  Those pesky, what are your plans for after college questions have already begun, the GRE is looming closer and closer with each day I avoid my review book, and I just can’t seem to muster up the energy to care about my Senior Seminar the same way I care about the latest episode of Gossip Girl.

I’m about to start my fourth full week of classes now. (I actually had to check the calendar to figure that out) and I see no signs of things calming down, but I’ve put my obsessive compulsive organizing skills to good use and I’ve figured out a way to fit it all in. And keep my sanity. (Hopefully.)

Senior year is only just beginning and the stress is starting to consume me, but my break from reality this past weekend (delayed birthday celebrations, mani/pedi, shopping spree, Starbucks) has made me realize the importance of taking time out, and enjoying those other aspects of college; the ones I’m actually going to miss.  No matter how hard I try I will never be able to know exactly how things are going to turn out, if I’m making the right decision or the wrong decision, if watching the late night showing of Pretty Woman instead of reading for 18^th Century Literature will set my life on a path of complete and total destruction, if dinner and drinks is worth that late night cram session that will surely ensue the next day.

So I’m going to stop worrying. Stop stressing. Start enjoying.  If I focus on the now, instead of on the future, things are looking pretty good. Okay fine, so I have to take the GRE and write a thesis, and I may have finally taken on one too many extracurricular activities. But hey, I’m also of legal drinking age now. And maybe I don’t have any idea what I want to do next year, but at least that means I have options. The possibilities are endless. And that’s a plus. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next year, because I’m not even sure what’s going to happen tomorrow (I’ll have to check my schedule.), but I’m going to make sure I enjoy it.

It might not be easy, but at least it will be interesting.

Every week, CC and John bring you some of the weirdest, funniest, saddest things he hears on his college campus. Join the Overheard revolution!Leave your own overheard convos in the comments or send ‘em over!

(Freshman in a dining hall.)

Freshman: College is so cool! It’s, like, the most sophisticated universe in the universe.

(Angry girl, heard through a dorm-room door.)

Girl: F***in’ a! What am I supposed to do? Dogs ate my underwear!

(Two girls, in the business school.)

Girl 1: I love Humphrey Bogart

Girl 2: Yeah, me too. Did you know he got his start in ’80s science fiction B-movies?

Girl 1: Wow, really?

Girl 2: No.

(Girl and guy in an office.)

Girl: Okay, what’s a nice way to welcome the freshman to campus?

Guy: How about “f*** you freshmen, get hit by a bus?”

(Two girls, talking in an Italian restaurant.)

Girl 1: Put out a job offer.

Girl 2: “Can you drink wine? Can you stare at my cleavage? You’re hired! Let’s talk about 401k.”

(Girl, standing in line at the student union.)

Girl: They were cutting a giant sausage at the women’s center today. I didn’t feel right eating it.

(Two guys, finding seats in an auditorium.)

Guy 1: Are we just gonna use our jackets to reserve these seats?

Guy 2: I guess so. We can’t rely on Meghan to mark them with her urine.

(Girls, introducing themselves in class.)

Girl 1: I’m Brenna.

Girl 2: Hi! I’m Margaret, but you can call me Murphy.

Girl 1: Huh. How’d you get that nickname?

Girl 2: When I was born, my dad said it was Murphy’s Law.

(Two guys, through an apartment wall.)

Guy 1: Ahhh! Ahh! Holy f***ing s***!

Guy 2: What?

Guy 1: I just exploded a bag of lettuce!

(Girl, reading an ad on a bulletin board.)

Girl: Female roommate needed… Must be clean, some parties okay… Must be comfortable with taxidermy. Huh.

Except, I do imagine it. I catch myself worrying about non-existent assignments and responsibilities that won’t resume until September. But even more, I constantly find myself spacing out at work, reminiscing about all the good stuff that comes along with college. Mostly the whole not-bored-at-work-9-to-5 thing.

And I miss it!

Meal Plans: While I’m lucky enough not to be taking classes this summer, I do have to work — which means I’m stuck in a college town all summer long without the benefit of visiting home, and therefore the benefit of home cookin’. My freshman year, I ate dining hall food. My sophomore year, my sorority dues included a meal plan. This summer, with my sorority house closed and the dining halls freshmen-infested, I’m armed only with my apartment’s kitchen and whatever the hell I find when I Google “easy, cheap, healthy recipes” and pudding. Do I enjoy learning to cook? Absolutely. Would I prefer a cook to prepare my meals? Uh, hell yes. Plus, there’s no clean up if you’re not the one using all the dishes…

The Gym: As any lady knows, summer is either the best time to flaunt your hard earned bikini-bod, or to berate yourself for spending more of Spring watching The Office than a yoga instructor. So naturally, gym time is a necessary evil (unless you enjoy working out, which I sadly do not). Imagine my disappointment when I arrived at my campus gym early for kickboxing, only to have my student I.D. DENIED at the turnstile. It was almost as embarrassing as having a credit card declined, weirdly enough. Apparently, if you don’t take summer classes at FSU, you can’t use the gym (I guess the tuition I pay during fall and spring doesn’t cut it). Every day as I run outside (instead of on a treadmill with AC and Daisy of Love repeats) I count the days until I’ll be back at the student gym.

The Bar Scene: Never in my life did I think I’d find myself wishing for the bar to be more crowded. There are no lines for the bathroom, the bartenders are almost overly attentive, and I have enough room to extend my arms. All of these are seemingly good things, but when there are no people to watch, no strangers to mingle with, and no one standing between me and unlimited mojitos, things at the bar just don’t end well. When it takes me 20 minutes to fight my way through the crowd to the bar in Fall, I will look back at this time lovingly, but for now, the bar scene just seems kinda boring.

“Academic Expenses”: As I mentioned before, I’m a working woman. But when my parents offer to help out with any school related costs, I definitely don’t turn it down. The beauty of this is that there is always some way to explain a purchase as necessary to my academic career. “Supplies” at Walmart, “Business attire” for those in-class presentations, and my personal favorite “Whatever they sell at the bookstore” because Mom’s credit card is on file there. A random charge on her statement is easily explained during the semester, but trying to convince her that I need money for “road trip supplies” doesn’t go as smoothly.

Overall, I’m not complaining about a long, hot and relaxing summer—but there are definitely a few things I miss about Fall and Spring. What about you guys?

All I have to say is, “I’m not sure I’m going out tonight because it’s hailing fully formed snowmen,” and within in seconds I have 14 texts, 9 IMs, and 1 roommate chirping out: “We only have 12 more Mondays to go out!” And of course the countdown always makes me give in.

It’s not that I doubt I will have plenty of Mondays in my future to get drunk (recession, unemployment, YES) but it’s more like I only have 12 more Mondays to get drunk in a socially acceptable way. After that it’s drinking alone on Mondays from old Manischewitz bottles that I find in the back of the fridge. And nothing good ever follows Manischewitz (although my brother will be the only one to argue that gelfite fish follows Manischewitz and gelfite fish is good).

And as the days start winding down I find myself nostalgic for the past three years. But not only for the normal things like the nights I’ll never remember with the friends I’ll never forget (stole that quote from my 12yr old sister’s MySpace), but also for things I promised myself that I would never miss. I pass freshmen with their Styrofoam dining hall boxes and instead of trying to make them envious by bragging about my full fridge, I approach them and ask for just a peak inside…will it be greasy chicken fingers or just a box full of cocoa puffs? Either way, all I can think about is how good they have it. Endless amounts of food prepared for them! Trays to transport the food! Someone to wash the dishes after they eat the food!

It’s hard to believe that at this point sophomore year I was sitting in the dining hall eating wilted lettuce leaves complaining about how I couldn’t believe we had three more months of this garbage. Now I’m asking freshman to pass back their ID and let me see that salad bar one last time, let me see those smiling cooks under their hair nets, let me see the unrefrigerated egg salad!

But more than I miss the limitless frozen yogurt machine at the dining halls, I’m nostalgic for how dumb I was. Everyday was an adventure and I believed everyone was there to help guide me; from the saleslady who claimed I would need $300 snowpants to survive Syracuse to the the frat “brother” who forgot which room was his and insisted the hallway was suitable. I believed spring began after spring break. I believed R.A’s actually had power. I believed that liquor before beer meant I was in the clear and, most of all, I believed that the mummy I kissed during Freshman Halloween would at least wait until I walked away before grabbing my friend and kissing her.

And even though all these beliefs were eventually proved wrong (turns out brothers don’t forget which room they live in) it was still fun not knowing what was around every corner. Literally every corner had something new. An underage basement bar! A middle-eastern restaurant! The friend that I made first week and never spoke to again! Just because I’m better fed, legally able to drink, and no longer a moron, I still can’t help but miss it.

Like the Bible Chucker…

Ah, the caf, where you can “all you can eat” to your heart’s content (and waistline’s dismay). Also where you can find out that you’re going to Hell. Yep, nine times out of ten, this is where you will experience The Religious Fanatic. Not just a Bible thumper, but more like a Bible chucker. Yeah, no thumping for them. They throw it at you. Hard.

Far more judgmental than grandma could ever think about being (at least she’ll make you a pie after), this guy has everybody labeled a severe sinner. He’s easy to recognize as he is the only one dressed in a suit despite the fact that it may just be 80 plus degrees outside. If that doesn’t tip you off, perhaps the stack of “How To Live” pamphlets in his hand or the giant poster that says “Smoking Kills” with a stereotypical picture of Hell on it helps. Or maybe the fact that he’s old and bearded? It’s not like he’s trying to hide. He wants sinners to go to Hell and he has no problem letting you know (by screaming into a megaphone) as you attempt to scarf down that fro yo.

He sort of reminds you of the people who stood on street corners back in the day, preaching about the different religions. Only, he’s all about the hellfire and brimstone and not so much about the nice salvation part.

This guy has no interest in how you were raised or what you believe. If it’s not the same as them, you’re wrong. And you will pay. For eternity. If you are in a sorority, wearing jeans (or heaven forbid, a miniskirt), eating meat, or just walking by, you are going somewhere hot. And it isn’t Cancun.

Don’t feel bad, though. It’s not you. Sure, you may have had premarital sex or opted to wear that new skirt to brunch, but this guy is out to get everyone in your caf and in cafs across the country. Just (try to) ignore him and make a beeline for the salad bar. He’s never going away, so just get used to him.

The most common insult for a freshmen: “man, that guy is trying too hard.” When coming to a competitive ivy league school, freshmen are immediately aware that the kids around them are some of the best students in the country. They probably were the small-town star of their high school, and now feel desperate to assert themselves, to still be the big fish in the rapidly expanding pond. Thus, while sitting next to a few freshmen chatting in a dining hall the other day, I was sad — sad, but not surprised — when after about 2 minutes, the test score discussions began.

“So what did you get on your SAT’s? I got ___.”

After the test scores, came the trips-to-Europe competition.

“I’ve been to Rome twice.” “Oh yeah, I went too, and Paris, and all over France as well.”

This is the epitome of Trying Too Hard, and you can see why it’s so annoying to upperclassmen. Freshmen exhibit the dreaded Trying Too Hard in every aspect of life, from reading every footnote and side-reference in the reading (and loudly announcing the fact in class), to getting ridiculously drunk because they think that’s the way college life really is. In a big, scary, competitive new school, these over-achieving high schoolers try applying the drive and shameless self-promotion it takes to get into college — to every aspect of life. It’s enough to make an upperclassmen want to avoid the eating clubs and especially any intro-level classes.

We don’t really need to compete with each other in this obnoxious way; there’s room for all of us to shape our personalities while in college, to find our own niches and be interesting people regardless of what test scores we have or how many countries we’ve visited. If only the freshmen would learn this a bit quicker — though I’m sure I went through my Trying Too Hard phase as well. I seem to remember bragging about my family’s trips to France as a Freshman… So we’ve all been there, but we don’t like to remember it.

Please, freshmen — just relax.

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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Strange, silly and awkward things overheard on campus this week:

- A lanky blonde man leans against a doorway, talking to a short-haired brunette.

“She’s really… nice, you know?” He shakes his head. “I mean, I just wanted someone to care about.”

“But a freshman?” she asks, feigning surprise. “Really!“

“Yeah. It was like fishing with dynamite.”

- Two grizzled, swarthy males stand in the dining hall.

“Man, I can’t believe there aren’t any forks,” remarks one, his thick lower lip turned in a pout. He moves one finger toward his collar unconsciously.

His friend looks sadly at the empty racks. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t even know anyone who uses spoons.”

- Across the dining hall, a guy stands up and starts singing “I’ll Make A Man Out Of You” from Mulan . About three quarters of the table joins in within seconds. One other guy grabs his tray, gets up and stalks away. “I thought we were done with this,” he says, darkly.

- Down the hallway, a pink-faced man is tying a lumpy plastic bag to a door. As I pass by, he looks up and smiles conspiratorially.

“It’s ladybugs,” he says.

- A punky blonde girl and redhaired boy – they look like a couple – are sitting with some others at a cafe table.

“But honestly,” says the boy, looking around the table. “Who sleeps with freshmen?”

As he looks back at the girl, she’s pointing straight at him. He shrugs.

- A professor, standing at the head of a class on prejudice and discrimination:

“Entries should be one page minimum, 12 point font. And please don’t write these drunk.”

“But what if you’re out drinking and someone says something racist?” asks a student in the back. “And you just have to write about it, but you won’t remember in the morning?”

The professor thinks about it for a minute. “Then I would take notes,” she says.

(Incidentally, the same professor suggested “gatorade and rice” as the best hangover cure.)

- Outside a dorm, three guys are sitting on the steps. They look sad about something

“Man, this sucks, dude, I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah,” says another. The smell of marijuana is thick in the air.

“F*ckin’ sucks,” the third says, mournfully.

At their feet, Lucky Charms are scattered about the steps.

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 weeks into the semester, and my room is still pretty navigatable, but far from clean. I can’t see the desk calendar where I put all of my due dates and meetings down anymore. I just don’t have the patience to be neat. I’m sure it’s a problem – I’ve been messy all my life – but I don’t really feel like fixing it.

I still haven’t written a word of my thesis. Mind you, since I’ve been on campus I’ve gotten countless articles and books and am in the process of picking through them, but that whole thought-on-paper process has yet to start. The first chapter is due in about two or three weeks (I’d tell you the due date, but right now it’s beneath a plate of stale chips). It’s not that I’m out partying or working super hard in my other classes (sure, I have a fair amount of work that I need to do, but it’s not overwhelming); I’m just having kind of a rough time settling into my senior year.

Already, at least five or six of my friends have looked upset at the fact that I’m graduating. Because I transferred in, a lot of my friends are graduating next year and assume that I’m doing the same. My future isn’t really a topic of thought for me, since I’m much better with living in the present. Still, it’s kind of unavoidable now.

On top of that, the construction means that the campus is shaking, rumbling, clanging, and groaning like drunk revenge sex from seven in the morning until six at night, so I’m having a hard time finding a quiet place to study or even to sleep. With the influx of first-years, I feel like I don’t know anybody. I almost feel like I’ve transferred all over again.

All of that together has the tendency to make me a little depressed when I sit and think about it.

I have to admit, though; I’m impressed with some of the freshmen, even if most of them are less like people and more like five-year-olds finding out all they can do without mommy and daddy around. A ton of them are getting on-campus jobs, especially the less pleasant ones like working in the dining hall. I definitely didn’t make the attempt to get a job on campus until last year, so kudos to you, freshmen. Well, the responsible ones, anyway. (Not the ones who do not go to poster sales and ask, “Is that photoshopped?” when looking at a poster of Warhol’s Cambell Soup Cans, or say, “I thought these were carrots!” while staring down at a plate full of shredded cheddar.) Between me not know what I’m going to be doing in a year and freshmen not knowing cheese from carrots, I don’t have high hopes for the future.

Despite all that, though, I’m not upset or depressed. School is life, and though I have yet to decide if it’s an amplified or understated allegory, it’s definitely there. And with things like friends, fall show premiers, and alcohol to distract and comfort me, how upset can I really be?

[Photo courtesy gettyimages.com]