[Meet Margaret. She's a recent high school grad gearing up for her first year at Yale. We'll check in with her every week to see what she's doing, what she's packing, and what new college surprises she's tackling (or freaking out about) next. Oh, to be an incoming freshman again....]

So on behalf of all my soon-to-be college freshmen out there, I can vouch that I have been a Facebook stalking maniac lately. Even more so than when I decide that I like a guy–and it’s pretty unhealthy then. So what’s the source of all this wall-post-analyzing, photo-clicking frenzy? I just received a letter telling me who my 3 randomly selected suitemates are for the upcoming school year.

Oy vey, I know, right?! I mean this is the start of this giant (GIANT!) new part of my life, probably more important than when Mary-Kate-and-Ashley (always said together) became Mary Kate Olsen and Ashley Olsen (“separate entities”, but really, who are we kidding? They are nothing without each other!). And what if I start out my new life with a roommate who is a complete dud?! I mean, sure, Seventeen makes it seem like our roomie is gonna be our next BFF–but you guys, we’ve all heard the horror stories ranging from the weird little pet peeve arguments (suitemates not allowing coat racks in a corner of the dorm) to the fatty issues (roomies getting drunk on you and bringing their flings back to your room when you are on the top bunk being like “Uhh, what do I do. . .”).

So really, you gotta get a good feel on what your roommate is like before you meet her, am I right? Read More »

July 22. I had it circled on my calendar. It was written in red Sharpie on a Post-It note strategically placed on my desk. The Facebook class of 2013 group was all a-flutter with activity as we counted down the days, hours, and minutes together.

And then it was midnight on the day we were to receive our housing assignments for the fall. Raise the curtain!

Okay, so maybe that was a bit melodramatic. But the anxiety I felt as I waited for the clock to strike midnight was certainly no joke. I felt almost as nervous as I did before I got my acceptance letter in the mail. What if I got a bad dorm? What if I hate my roommate? Why the hell is this dorm called the Butts (short for Butterfields, I’ve since learned)? Read More »

The mere thought of shopping for college fills me with a great deal of excitement. I picture myself hopping from Bed, Bath and Beyond to Target to Harmon Beauty Supply, loading up a shopping cart with the essentials, some indulgences, and those must-have cutesy items to make my dorm room feel like home. My mother and I are all smiles and giggles as we go from aisle to aisle, looking like we walked straight out of The Donna Reed Show (except with up-to-date outfits, of course).

And then we actually go shopping.

You see, my mother is the Jewish mother. She makes all other Jewish mothers look negligent. Although it is purely out of the kindness of her heart, when we go shopping, she seems to be stocking up for an underground bomb shelter. She goes for the ultra-massive-enormous bulk pack instead of the three or four I’ll actually use during the school year. She does not seem to understand that I’m not going away forever; there will be times during the year when I’ll come home with an empty suitcase, only to fill it up with more supplies for my room. Plus, every store I could possibly need is within walking distance from campus. Read More »

Last weekend, Wesleyan hosted a three-day open house for accepted students (and helicopter parents) to get a feel for the school before D-Day (the May 1 decision date, if you’re not in the know). Although I was accepted early decision, I attended the aptly named WesFest on Friday and stayed overnight, meeting fellow pre-frosh as well as current students and experiencing college life first-hand.

Since this was my first experience being completely immersed in college culture sans parental units, I learned a few things about life in college, from the insightful to the unexpected:

1. 11:00 p.m. on weekends is considered “early.” At home, I’m usually up until 1 or 2 a.m., but by 11 I’m in my PJ’s, watching TV and winding down from the day. At that time on most college campuses, the party’s just getting started. And it doesn’t end until the 6 a.m. puking rush begins. Read More »