I’m living in an obnoxiously clean room and my days consist of waking up at 2 pm and then eating for the next 12 hours. It could only mean one thing: break time!

I’ve decided recently, while lying naked in my bed after a shower (try it—it might just be the greatest thing about being home) that this break is 5% nostalgia, 25% catching some Z’s, 20% eating and 50% flat out weird.

While it’s great to see old friends and talk about that one girl in our class who got married in a hush hush courtroom wedding, or to share in on the somberness and tears of the death of our classmates’ family members, such events are not just fodder for ladies’ “let’s catch up!” sessions. More than that, they mark a tangible milestone of the passing of our high school years and the reclamation of something a bit more personal.

I’ve always held my life motto to be that I don’t take myself too seriously—and yet, maybe, taking yourself seriously is what going to college is all about. But in a different sense than what I’d ever thought about.
My good guy pal (who also decided to go to school out of state) attended our high school basketball game last weekend. To him, it was weird sitting in the college section, seeing all the high school girls clad in Ugg boots, visibly clinging to any tentacle of popularity, and all the high school guys standing chests puffed and arms crossed, the picture of hetero manliness. It was weird seeing all these doppelgangers of ourselves past adhering to the unwritten standards of our mainstream Midwest conservative high school. It was weird realizing that we were those people, just a year ago. And it was most disconcerting of all to recognize that we no longer are. Read More »

Just another day in the country...

The summer before my freshman year of college, I packed my bags into the back of my car and drove to the big city. Cue the music, feel the rain on your skin, no one else can feel it for you… My blonde hair was whipping in the wind, my shades on. I was starting a whole new life, and although Raleigh, NC is nothing like LA and my life is far from an episode of The Hills, it was really exciting. I’m from a town where if you want to go to a mall, you have to drive forty-five minutes. A town where you can’t talk about someone, because chances are, it’s your friend’s second cousin.

So I did what any big-city-living-in-the-country girl would do; I said eff that and moved to the state’s capitol.

Oh the city; when your skyline came into my view I screamed and threw my arms into the air, excited to reside within your warm arms. For an entire school year, I danced on your bars, shopped in your stores, and fell in love with your boys. But when the summer came, I pulled a Scarlett O’Hara (“Home. I’ll go home…”). I figured the country would give me time to relax, to detox, and, frankly, it was closer to the beach. Things would be serene, and all that.

Yeah, until I smelled my town before I even entered it. Serenity (and the sound of tractors) is only interesting for about a day. I miss the city! I miss the constant buzz, the bars, and the stores! You would think I learned my lesson the first time, yet here I am, my sophomore summer, sitting in a town with a Food Lion and that’s it.

What the hell was I thinking?! Read More »

[It doesn’t matter what school you go to, what state it is in, how big it is, whether it is public or private, all girls or coed…there are experiences that all college students share. No matter how crazy you think your personal situation is, it is not just you. So, let’s bring it all out in the open. Right here. Because you are not alone - we’ve all been there before.]

So, you’re home for the holidays. God it feels good! No more exams, no more papers – just pure bliss for the next few weeks. Just you, the couch, your home friends and a fridge stocked with all your favorite foods.

The first few days are great: you sleep late, lay around all day and don’t change out of your pajamas until it’s time to meet an old friend for dinner, or run out to get your hair cut (because you would NEVER trust one of those people on campus to do it).

But by day three, the novelty of being home starts to wear off. Your mom starts yelling at you to make your bed or hang up your jacket. She starts waking you up at 10 am with the familiar, “you already wasted half the day!” She starts pestering you about your grades, about when you are going to maybe get a part-time job, and about your love life. Read More »

So you’ve grown up, moved out, and now you’re living on your own. Still, whenever anybody asks where you’re from, you proudly state the place where you grew up instead of your current address. And no matter how much you love your college experience, there is still a comfortable feeling associated with returning home.

Your old bed.

Your old couch.

Your mom’s cooking. Mmmm.

However, no matter how long since you’ve left home, goin’ back never feels the same. Something changes; it may be a tangible difference or a change in emotion, but it’s different just the same.

When I returned home for the first time for Thanksgiving of my freshman year, I discovered the intensity of my mom’s home improvement kick. I drove away from a white house in September and pulled up to a blue one in November. My dingy twin bed was now a queen, complete with a handcrafted quilt and a wool blanket (a welcome change, don’t get me wrong). The pictures of my friends and I were out of site, and my shelves were now ridden with family photos and potpourri.

My room was no longer my room and it just felt weird.

However, there were also changes that run much deeper than my mother’s new home makeover. What would you do if you came home and the family you thought you had was completely different? This happened for me two years after I left for college. My dad took me out to dinner this past summer and told me that he and my mother were separating. The next day, he moved out. I had never lived in that house without him, and having to pick up the phone to talk to him just felt wrong. Read More »