When they say college is eight semesters of the best time of your life, I hope they mean it. Not to start off my first semester with a cynical outlook, but periodically running on four to five hours of sleep, five days a week, doesn’t really come across as the “best time” of my life. I can’t seem to separate myself from my coursework, as once an assignment is finished, another springs up. It feels like an oscillating sine curve, it goes up and down for infinity (or so it seems. How far away is Thanksgiving break?) Sometimes it feels like everyone is out there having the time of their lives, letting their school work slip between their fingers, but I’m always with my coursework. In the PCL. Writing an essay. Doing that goddamn calculus homework on Quest. But maybe this is just the adjustment from being a spoiled high school senior, living at home with an unbeatable support system, and receiving endless puppy kisses from my Yorkies. Now, I’m learning to live on my own, having to prioritize and schedule everything (including meals and sleep, excessive?), and can’t quite seem to make a trip to the PCL where I don’t forget my jacket. I’m determined to do well. Stand for my ground. Earn my success, as there’s nothing more rewarding than a good grade on something you put so much effort into. So there might be a bit of sweat involved, but in the long run, I’ve had a hell of a time. I’ve made a few of the best friends I could ever ask for and drifted from a few that I realized I didn’t even have much in common. College is a revealing time. You learn from your books. You learn from your peers. You learn from life. And mostly, you learn from yourself. It’s a journey, and I’m excited for that, no matter how many turns I take to get there. So now, I’m going to bring this post to an end as I’m about to shut off my laptop, steep a cup of hot green tea, and finish up the final 110 pages of the book I need to have read by my 9 am class tomorrow.