Unstuck

So I've been a Penn State student for twenty four hours, and I haven't fallen flat on my face yet. I have, however, fell on my side numerous times from tripping over the pillow pet that takes over half my freaking bed. But in terms of this whole being an adult deal, I haven't flipped out at the sight of a map that I may have to navigate, nor have I gone all wild-child in the dining halls. Perhaps the freshman 15 will be avoidable after all. And what could be excess calories is now stair-walking energy, seeing as I'm on the third floor and the elevator thinks it's from the 1950's. I'm going to have fantastic legs by the end of the summer at this rate. Day one in my dorm, and the stairwell and I are already like best buds.
At this point, I'm feeling like not only have I willingly volunteered for my own madness, but I've shelled out a few thousand bucks for it too. Well, okay, my parents have shelled out a few thousand for me to have a mini panic attack every two seconds, but let's not get into particulars now, shall we? We're all acting like high school was prison, and now that we're free, we can run around like pandas on crack. Why pandas, I don't know. They're just cool. We still have our mother ducklings (pandas and ducks...what the hell went on in this family??) who walk us to our classes, hand out glow sticks because, hullo, who doesn't want a glow stick in their college experience, and tell us yet again to have fun, but y'know, you're gonna get freaking caught if you're a drunken idiot.
I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions, have my own voice, vote for president...but I still have to be walked to class. Huh. Maybe they're afraid we're all going to realize we don't know which way's up, and decide to walk home. Have fun, New Jersey-ites. I almost envy their homesickness in some sick, twisted way, like I want to feel stuck in a heat box with concrete walls. I could easily hop the cata bus back home, rant for a moment or two about how I feel like I'm still secretly twelve years old, and then come back to campus to learn to be a better-informed citizen and how to party. I am unstuck from this "you better make friends, or you will live a lonely old life with fake teeth and a broom to chase kids off your yard," feeling; everywhere I look, there's another kid from State High. We may not have talked at all in high school, but in the vast sea of us dough-eyed freshmen, we've turned into State College magnets.
Not to say I'm not trying to make friends. But the first day of meeting people is often like speed dating, minus trying to sleep with everything that moves. We've all turned into nervousness detectors, and our one binding commonality is, "oh, you're just as scared shitless as I am? Perfect, let's be best friends!" Status-making is still in the words, although it's not as prominent as in high school. There are still the beautiful people with their salads and pin-straight hair (damn them). There are the quiet nerds who are going to make an outgoing change once and for all! I'm sure you can guess which category I fall into, oh reader of blog. I'll let you know how this outgoing stuff works after I finish reading twelve books and stop cowering under my comforter.

Namaste.