By contributing writer Bill Nelson
You were away from home for the first time in your life. The iron fist of parental rule was no longer upon you, invoking a freedom the likes of which you’ve never experienced. New friends and hot girls knew nothing of your former fondness for Dungeons & Dragons and Star Trek. Beer, which you once had to travel the ends of the earth and the shadiest neighborhoods to obtain, could now be delivered by the 24-year-old down the hall (who, for some reason, was still living in the dorms). You discovered six different variations of marijuana. What could they have possibly expected from you?
Well, you managed to ace your one credit Phys. Ed class (the trick to pulling that one off was to show up) but your other 12 credits bear the fruits of your newfound freedom. If you were lucky, you intercepted your grades before your parents found out what their hard-earned money produced. Either way, you know it’s only a matter of time before they come across a picture of you proudly wearing a helmet while showing off your expertise with a beer bong.
This semester you were going to buckle down.
|
|
Your new plan was in effect. You made sure no classes started before 11:00am (what the hell were you thinking scheduling an 8:50 class last semester?). You had all of your books, and were already doing the required reading from the syllabus the first week, just to keep yourself ahead of the game. You joined a study group for algebra, because you can’t afford to fuck up in that class again (and there’s a really hot girl in the group). Operation: Freshman Forgiveness was moving full speed ahead…
…for about two weeks.
When you came back after the semester break, your floor was missing a few faces. Either their parents decided against wasting another dime on their child’s college career, or they did so poorly that the university would rather have them gone than take their money. Your friends who survived the first semester had the same determination as you when the semester started, a look that said, “I will study; I will succeed.” Do you remember who broke first?
It was only a matter of time before your 11:00 class became too early. You and your friends’ dorm rooms somehow became a migrating party. At one point, you discovered a fondness for late night infomercials, aided by one of the six variations of marijuana. Then the holidays came. There seemed to be so many more birthdays during the second semester.
St. Patrick’s Day was just around the corner, and the bars opened at 6:00am for that fiasco. Then, there were the self-designated holidays, because apparently you weren’t drinking enough already. You had a wake and bake during Puxatony Phil’s winter forecast. You threw a party when your neighbor finally lost his virginity. April was a big drinking month, because you had both the April Fool’s bash and the anniversary of Kurt Kobain’s death (that was a somber drinking day). You’re pretty sure there were more, but damned if you can remember. Oh, yeah, and 4:20 comes around twice a day. There was probably a psychology exam somewhere in there.
Don’t worry, dear freshman. The university only boots you for a semester, which is time enough to suck it up at home and convince your parents that you are through with all the rigmarole. If that doesn’t work, there's always student loans, and that would be good for you. Surely, if it is money you will eventually be paying back out of your own pockets, you will take your scholastics much more seriously. Surely.