After discovering that high school was nothing similar to High School Musical, I was very skeptical heading into college. So far, it has been an endless stream of moments. Mostly awkward ones. Some memorable ones. And others, absolutely beautiful. For the first few weeks, college felt like summer camp. Crowded dorms, late nights, welcome events, and mass feedings. Its a wonderful adventure though. And you meet so many people along the way. Like the dude from the laundry room who told me his entire life story. Or the dining hall woman who detailed her entire hip replacement surgery to me. Or the drunk Packers fan who wanted to make sure I knew how awesome my spin on the bowling ball was. Or the three girls that my roommate and I begged to sit with us so we wouldn’t be alone and how now, we are all best friends. I love the girl I sit by every morning in my communications class even though I never learned her name. I look forward to always seeing the same man at the bus stop and the same boy who saves my seat in my afternoon class even though we have never spoken. I embrace my awkwardness and try to forget the times I saw a nude freshman running down the hall because he forgot his towel, the time I signed up for broom ball and realized I wasn’t actually good at it, or the time my roommate and I dressed up as Pirates in hopes to receive free donuts and then found out we dressed up two days before the actual promotion was happening. I love the nights exploring the strange city with the girls I met in the community bathroom. I love studying with the student who always sits three rows in front of me to the right. I love the strangers. Everywhere. I do not know anyone and am unfamiliar with everything…and I love it. I love the late, late nights completing homework I had three weeks to do and I love the gallons of coffee I have to consume in order to enjoy the rest of the day. I love mixing everything in the fridge to try and make a smoothie. I love a dorm room smelling like fresh Ramen Noodles. I love the random phone calls from parents making up some reason for calling when they really just want to talk. I love the letters from those back home that stay in touch. I love the worry of the future because that means I know I have one.

I am beginning to see why it is these four years that are awarded the best…It really couldn’t get much better than this. (…now only if I wasn’t so damn broke…)


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