An ORIONtation to college

Coming back from my backpacking trip, I've learned quite a few important life skills for college: It is, in fact possible to shower in under five minutes and still smell as though you haven't been mud wrestling all your life, grainy milk isn't as disgusting as it looks, and if you're running low on cash, you can always substitute Daddy Long Legs' for mints...but only the male ones.

I may have accomplished the feat of going four days without spraying sparkly perfume all over, and I can now man-handle a pair of cooking stove "spondonacles," but I still wouldn't consider myself a nature girl. I like girly things. I jump to my makeup bag before I've stumbled to the coffee pot. The main difference is that I can now call myself someone who's been out of her comfort zone, and had a fantastic time doing it. Maybe they weren't perfect hiking conditions, but what better time to solve riddles and laugh over stupid stuff than during a lightning drill? Not to mention it's the perfect time to perfect those glute-working squats.

Physically, the trail was do-able. Our longest trek was six miles long, and only once did we feel like giving up when the hill felt like five thousand stair masters hitting us over out thighs. The great thing about our group though, was that you'd never have guessed any of us were in pain at the moment of infliction. It was only after we were snuggled into our sleeping bags with trail mix at hand that we let on we were uncomfortable. It's amazing how much easier a positive group atmosphere can make a hike. It made 30 pounds on my back go from agonizing to fun.

ORION may have facilitated a physical activity, but that was only a small section of what made the trip. Even though my high school was "cliquey" in the sense that the bandies ruled the school, each social type was distinguished and lines were hardly ever crossed. Even those "get to know your peers!" activities that guidance counselors gobble up were excuses for us to roll our eyes at our friends from across the room. Our backpacking group didn't magically contain the exact same personality, but I couldn't be more glad that it worked out that way. Every personality was fun to discover, and the dynamic was such that even the shy sort *ahem* felt comfortable opening up. We had some members of previously nerdy cliques, sporty groups, and those mystery people you're not so sure who they are, but each of our interests worked better together than a bunch of people who want to sit around and talk about nail polish, or tackle each other 24/7.

Granted, I have much appreciation for indoor bathrooms, and dorm life is looking more luxurious by the second. But if I had the opportunity to do ORION again, I'd throw my phone to the wolves (and by wolves I mean storage) and haul that backpack right through the woods. It was the perfect transition into college, and I would recommend everyone--even that city type who's putting on truckloads of mascara right now--to try it out.

A weight on your shoulders

Tomorrow is my first official backpacking trip, although with four years of history textbooks being smushed onto my back, I'm thinking I won't be sorely lacking in experience. Sore, maybe, seeing as my legs battle with hills like it's Gettysburg all over again. Depending on what shoes I wear, there may or may not be as much blood. While this isn't how I would normally be spending a vacation, and my line of thought is more along Adrian Monk's ("you can't clean nature with nature!"), I'm actually pretty excited for this trip. Maybe it's about time to get out in the world, or I want to say I did something other than watch F.R.I.E.ND.S. marathons during my Summer break. As funny as Chandler's jokes may be, they're not nearly as rewarding as pitching a tent, surviving off of trail mix (read: picking out all the M&Ms and leaving everything else), and hiking ten miles even when Starbucks isn't at the end point.
So perhaps I'm naturally a city girl...never mind that State College is surrounded by nothing but cows, "cricks" and tractors. But I've also stressed the fact that I'm not big on nature because, like every teenager, I wanted to be different from my parents. I had the original idea that I would be my own person, and then learned that all the individualists were, in fact, following a different kind of fad. Not to say that I faked liking nail polish and glitter, but sleeping where I can hear the wind whistling and the birds chirping-- rather than a radio recording of nature--isn't gonna kill me.
And thus, a 30 pound backpack later, I'm ready to take on this whole new experiences thing. Almost...let me just throw my hair straightener in with my hiking boots.

Namaste.  

Wait for it...

After living in the dorms for a month, it's a bit of a shock to come back home. Granted, I was just getting used to dorm life and getting into the routine of not lugging a truckload of stuff to the shower, but as soon as the concept of shower shoes didn't utterly weird me out, I was sent back home. My days have gone from knocking on friends' doors and taking spontaneous runs downtown to hauling my ass over to the bank to cry over my savings account that's going towards overpriced textbooks. Although I had plenty of free time over summer session, it felt justifiable because I was surrounded by people who were just as bored as me. We all could re-assure each other that in the fall, it would be different because we'd be drowning in homework and stress.  Free time can be lonely once you're the only one with it. But I've gotten through this past week by saying once I return to college, it'll get easier.
But what if, in the fall we justify the uncontrollable stress by saying it'll be different after freshman year? Or once we graduate, or finally stop living off ramen noodles? It's as though we're all waiting for some magical time when everything will be right, and we justify not fully living now because life will officially start when we get that diploma. I remember being in a haze through most of middle and high school because I spent most of those years with the mantra "I cannot wait until I get to college." I'm not exactly sure if I was expecting a complete personality makeover or I thought overcrowded lecture halls were sophisticated, but that next landmark was far away and I could still fantasize rather than plan. Now I'm thinking "I can't wait until I graduate." I can still pretend that I'll get away with floating over to Shoshoni and spending the rest of my life in a little bubble of yoga, meditation and people who don't judge you for wearing bandanas and handling stress by putting your legs behind your head (I could only think of doing that in a world where I was a contortionist, but still). I guess it makes sense, since Shoshoni was the only place where my mind wasn't already vacationing to the next section of life; if anything, I was dreading the thought of ever leaving. Who knew that the place where I have to do dishes and wake up at 5:00 in the morning would be my home away from home?
Maybe I will find a way to get back there in four years, but I also realize I can't spend all of the now thinking about the "then." It's not like I need a temple to meditate, nor do I need the reassuring voice that I shouldn't beat myself up if my mind wanders. After all, you're not a true beginning meditator if you don't think about what you're going to make for dinner at least once. Yesterday was one of the few times I actually followed through with my intents to live in the now and to sit in silence and just observe instead of wonder. While the stillness got interrupted by my neighbor's cat looking for a cuddle-fest, it was nice to be aware of the present moment and how I wouldn't have traded the quietness of that afternoon for anything. I still love to fantasize about the future, but there's a balance between joyful planning and actually seeing the life I'm currently in.

Namaste.  

In defense of coffee

Dear internet friends, I've noticed a sad pattern amongst adults these past few months: Coffee is getting an increasingly negative reputation, despite its attributes of making people live longer, and more importantly, instantly giving the shy sort so much more to say. It's like alcohol without that whole legality bit getting in the way. But oftentimes I hear people say they are either trying to quit the coffee habit so that their teeth can blind a person when bared in the sunlight, or they just don't want to get hooked in the first place. "It's expensive," I hear, "I don't want to get caffeine headaches," or my favorite, "it's too hipster." That's tea, folks. Unless you show up with some herbal coffee, I'm not buying that last point.

I am a proud coffee drinker, and not only do I plan on continuing with this routine, but I would like to defend the positive traits that I see in my morning cup (make that industrial sized mug) that I chug every morning. Having something to look forward to when I first wake up (a must in crappy valley winters) gives me a jump start to my day, and even if the caffeine supposedly doesn't hit for an hour, having done something--even if it is pouring half a can of whipped cream onto coffee and calling it low calorie--makes me more inclined to get out of my moose pants and lobster slippers and put on some clothes a nineteen year old might actually wear. This may or may not have something to do with my inability to sleep in past ten o'clock, but at least I no longer have the inner debate about whether or not I should crawl out from under my covers. The call of caffeine, mixed with the horrid disco soundtrack my cell phone alarm blasts, is the perfect way for my entire morning to not get wasted in bed.

Not only is coffee a productivity enhancer, but it's a social drink as well. Maybe this is overlooked in college, seeing as it's not the "get up on the tables and make an ass of yourself" type drink, but more of a sophisticated beverage. The kind that makes people say things like beverage. I mean, can you picture people going into a bar and discussing things such as the meaning of life, or Ernest Hemingway? Nope, that kind of talk just goes with a cafe. Call me dorky, but my ideal outing would consist of spending an afternoon at Starbucks or Websters and going over writer-ly techniques (such as the rule that you must never use adverbs. Never!) over a steaming latte with some friends. Going out for a caffeinated drink is also the perfect casual dating option. As Eddie Izzard points out, even a bee keeper can ask "you want to go for a cup of coffee?" To which his love interest will say, "I don't want a cup of coffee from you, you're covered in bees!" And then everybody loses. But still. Normal people date invites in normal people job situations work better when a coffee shop of some sort is involved. Don't ask why. It just does.

And that is why I down massively unhealthy amounts of caffeine every morning, afternoon, and if the day has been particularly hectic, every night.

Namaste.   

Pieces of Mind

The idea of "coming home" is a strange one at this point, since I've realized that concept will be a blurry one for the next four years. I haven't seen the place where I'll sleep, eat, and work on facebook homework for the next eight months, yet in a year, I'm sure I can reminisce about the insatiable heat, crappy showers, and other qualities of dorm room life. For the next ten days where I'm in the home in which I grew up, I'm trying to hold onto every memory and feeling of relaxation, because before I know it, my living situation will simply be another transition.

Not to say that my parents will shun me from ever coming over to down some much needed coffee and sleep in a bed that couldn't also be a log, but all of a sudden, four years seems dauntingly close, and I'm feeling like I have to turn my house into a memory, rather than a place where I can move forward. Even the small things, such as a collection of DVDs, turns into, "Oh I remember laughing at this series," instead of "I wonder when I can have an Ugly Betty marathon again?" It's nice to remember random spurts of my childhood when I see an old drawing tucked under my bed, or the scripts about rockstar twins I spent all of 4th grade creating, but those memories snuggle safely in the house where they were created, and I leave them behind like a worn, tattered jacket.

I'm excited to create new memories in these next few years, but it can also be scary to think that home isn't always going to be familiar and comforting.

Namaste.

It all started as a suitcase...

I had a plan while I was packing for college, to use one modest-sized suitcase, and to just bring the bare minimum that would keep me through the week until I returned home. I succeeded with the one-suitcase deal on move in day, but the skimpiness of my belongings somehow turned into this:

Minus the microwave. As much as I would love to indulge my lazy side, I doubt housing would be too happy with me if I dragged their microwave to my room. I'm still not entirely certain how six weeks of living in a dorm made me slowly lug my entire life, but lug I did...Plus the shopping rampages probably didn't help much. My life has made its way into an 11 x 15 square feet dorm room, and the bare minimum stayed at my house. I didn't know it was possible to feel home-y in a room that causes you to sweat if you so much as breathe; I'm guessing the Johnny Depp poster helped. I mean, how can you not feel at ease when some guy who has proposed to a million and a half women is right above your bed? It's utterly impossible.

Intimidating mass of stuff aside, it's safe to say I finally feel like a college student. Too bad I only got that feeling the day before I go home. I've learned some important skills in my first month at Penn State: To try to get ahead in homework, even if it seems terribly dorky; that saying "hi" to people I'm not friends with me won't make me roll on the floor and die, and one should consider going to bed by midnight early...as long as you can drown yourself in obscene amounts of coffee the next morning. Me and the cappuccino machine have become best friends this past month. And while classes have been significantly more challenging than high school, I'm an English nerd who writes essays for fun, so adding a grade and a few specific guidelines to what I've already been doing wasn't as scary as I assumed.

Already, I'm feeling like an adult. Even if I do still have Ernest...Poor thing has to suffocate in a bag pre-move out day.

It's been a quality first semester. I can get used to this title of "college student."

Namaste.
    

Guess we're not in summer camp anymore, Toto

I started off at Penn State with great expectations--not the book, obviously...Why would I go to college with a classic? I had the idea that I'd feel like I was going off to summer camp, and that I could pop up at home to down some coffee and homemade, erm, protein bars. Homework, you say? I left that in high school, along with my title of nerd. Five essay assignments later, and I realize the only "camp" aspect that has stayed the same is bonding over crappy cafeteria food and awkward ice breakers that anyone over the age of 30 has been blindsided to believe will make us best friends forever. But just because my summer isn't filled with horseback rides and awkward campfire stories, doesn't mean it's been a wasted July and August. In both senses, although I can't speak for the girls wearing "frackets" on Friday nights. Who knew there were special jackets to get thrown up on?

I've been caught in a lot of stereotypes this past summer, and I've broken down my own pre-conceived notions of what college really entails. Dealing with the millionth accusation that I go to "the pedophile school that only cares about football" can be draining, but the overall atmosphere of the campus is no longer angry or resentful. We really all just want to come together and find a way to inform people outside of Penn State that we're so much more than a football institution. I don't know about you, but I've never been a fan of a bunch of testosterone machines smashing into each other, and I spent my Saturday afternoons pretending football didn't exist. Upstairs, I'd hear uproars of "WE ARE!" I'd reply, "Trying to sleep!" or "hungry!" or, "aliens from Mars!" But even though throwing balls never interested me, I still feel a tremendous amount of pride for this university. Yes, we've had some bad luck this past year. But the students didn't do anything wrong. Speaking out about Joe Paterno's legacy doesn't make us advocates of child molestation. It makes us proud of someone who contributed so much to what makes Penn State great. And no matter what mistakes certain individuals make, I will always be proud of this school as a whole.

I admit, I came into Summer session with my own generalizations about college life. I assumed studying would be an afterthought on Friday and Saturday nights, and that a bunch of people screaming "I swear to drunk I'm not God!" would be tearing through the dorm hallways. And there are those select few people who must be taking Brave New World literally and acting like they've never seen this fascinating concoction that slows their brain and instantly throws awful pickup lines out of their mouths. But to everyone in college who thinks they're "that guy" who doesn't think having fun involves acting stupid and feeling like shit the next day, there are many of those people. And labels became "so last year" when jeggings stopped being cool. So embrace your "that person"-ness. I've been lucky enough to find several amazing people who unleash their inner party animal at Kiwi or Starbucks, rather than at a frat. We still giggle over stupid stuff, but we can *gasp!* construct coherent sentences the following afternoon. It's an amazing concept.

Don't underestimate the partying one can accomplish with a bowl of cookie dough.

While college hasn't been perfect, it's a refreshing change from a world in which dumb blonds won everyone's attention and the word "I" was banned in English classes. I'll be relieved to have a week to stop scrambling over MLA format, but fall semester no longer feels like the end of the world--only just the end of my indulging in vampire chick lit for a while.