College brings a whole lot of new experiences, new lessons and new people. But it seems that no matter what school you go to, there are same characters on every campus:

With the Go Green revolution, a lot of us have been making the effort to protect and preserve our environment: trees, animals, reservations. Hemp jewelry is so in right now and vintage is your new passion, right?

Well, guess who’s more passionate than you are? The Neo-hippie, better known as The Empathetic Activist.

The Empathetic Activist feels the pain of the distressed, whether it is animal, mineral or vegetable. When a mouse-trap is set up in the dorms, he or she will be there to protect the rights of our furry friends. When soda cans are thrown in the cafeteria trash, he or she will be there to lecture their peers on the perils of cans in dumps around the world. When a tree is cut down to expand your campus, he or she is there screaming murder through blurred vision…or at least collecting signatures to stop the madness.

The Empathetic Activist cares, but not about material objects. While we’re all spending what little money we have on a spring break wardrobe, the E.A. is perusing the local consignment/ thrift/ vintage shops while munching on some tofu, as he or she is also most likely vegan/vegetarian. (“Animals have rights too!”) And when your favorite neo-hippie is not purchasing vegan Birkenstocks, you will find him or her working for social consciousness, whether it be through debates and discussions with friends or long and heated monologues during class. Read More »

It’s as vivid today as it was when it happened five years ago: Chris and I bodysurfing on an abandoned beach just outside of Acapulco and Stephanie looking at us with wonder from the shore. He and I would get slammed, and slammed again, then come up smiling from sand-filled ear to water-logged ear. Just before going in, we looked out into the vast horizon. The sky was clear blue. There were no clouds in sight. The ocean held us in its wake. Suddenly, we both gasped at the same time: a flying stingray briefly jumped out of the water just fifteen feet away.

“Did you see that?” he asked me.

“That was so cool,” I said.

Christopher Cady was my best friend’s boyfriend. He and Stephanie — like myself — had a real case of wanderlust. With no one else could I share my travel stories and feel completely understood. Only they understood why I would want to attend college in Maine, a continent and ocean away from my home in Hawaii: for the pure challenge and unpredictability.

Steph and I lived vicariously through each other, traversing the globe and telling each other tale after wondrous tale. Their travels brought them from Maine to Mexico to Taos to Central America to Boston, but culminated abruptly in Chamonix one fateful afternoon in January 2004. Chris had prepared an engagement ring before their trip. He didn’t get a chance to give it to her because, despite the storm that was brewing that late afternoon, he took an off-piste route and went missing. Read More »