Searching for the right university may begin as early as sophomore year of high school. While many teenagers have their...
Let me start this by saying you're the best mother around. Seriously. Going to college helped our relationship immensely. Distance made our hearts grow fonder us stop arguing about nit picky text messages, my apparent attitude problem, and a seriously unfair curfew.
Dear Tuffy Luv, I have a dilemma. Currently I'm (only) 17 and a junior in high school, though I would like to think that I seem 'beyond my years.' At 5'11", it is not uncommon for adults to think I am older, which can be fun when I'm out on the town with my girls and older guys spark up convos...
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.
Even though Christmas is on Saturday, I honestly couldn't care less this year. With everyone around me so happy and festive, I feel like the odd-woman-out. However, I think I have a decent excuse. Instead of “Jingle Bell Rock” in my head and busy days spent shopping at the mall, I'm singing the Student Loan Blues while staring at my empty bank account.
Candy canes, hot chocolate and crowded libraries, they’re all synonymous with one thing--finals season is in the air (or for some at least, it’s already done with and they’re busy tanning their backsides in Barbados). Between writing papers (ew) and eating so much junk food that Cheetos dust is running through my bloodstream, I’ve had some time to reflect over semester one of my college experience.
Your boxes are unpacked, your bed is made, and your parents have left the building. You are officially a college student. Woohoo! No more living under their rules. You are a free adult livin’ the dorm life. It takes a few days of getting used to, but you’re finally feeling settled. You’ve even sorta mastered the cafeteria slop. This whole college thing isn’t so hard after all.
Halloween in college is a big deal. Major, really. You may have thought you hit your trick-or-treating peak in the 3rd grade when you wrapped yourself in tinfoil and went out as leftovers, but think again.
So I'm new at this whole midterms thing. The idea that I've been more or less lounging around for the past 6 weeks and then - wham! - I'm hit with a test that's worth 40% of my grade...that's kind of crazy.
Okay, so I am completely not a hippie. Let me just get that out there. Incense makes me sneeze, middle-of-the-forehead headbands make me look like an awkward boy and I own nothing made of hemp.
In high school, I had a clear label. I was Ms. Student Government, Ms. Good Grades, Ms. Overachiever. And even though all of our years of primary schooling have told us that labels are totally, totally terrible and that we should define people by their true selves and inner lights, etcetera, Oprah wisdom, etcetera...
Entering the dining hall at my college was like entering the land of some kind of lotus-eating, vegetarian haven, or, in my case, a carnivore’s personal version of hell. It’s not that they don’t serve meat; they do. But they also serve various other reinterpretations of meat: tofu ravioli, lentil hamburgers, vegan minestrone soup.
Freshman year is an incredible experience. For many, it’s the first taste of Keystone freedom, the first foray into frat parties out into the world. You'll drink with meet people from all walks of life. You'll quickly wonder how you ever survived without your newfound friends. But be warned: for every awesome new friend that you make, you'll find yourself face to face with an enemy.