3 Years Down

4 papers and 36 pages later, I am done with my Junior year of college. 

How the heck am I done with my 3rd year of college? I mean, I still remember moving into my freshman dorm like like it was yesterday. 

I had just gotten back from Outdoor Orientation-- the Scripps Pre-Orientation program, where I had scaled some pretty scary hillsides with a pretty ancient backpack from my dad's former days as a mountain man in the 70s. 

I had just spent my last night sleeping in my own bed before moving into a dorm where I would have to live with other people and endure Esha turning on the lights in the room at 4AM just as I was falling asleep because she had just finished studying for Bio and was having trouble finding her pajamas or something. 

I had just had the most amazing shower of my life after not having shaved or soaped-up for a week. My feet and ankles were bruised and adorned with some pretty nasty cuts where the duct tape I had used to wrap my ankles (in order to prevent blisters) had dug into my skin. 

And now I was saying goodbye to my parents and embarking on the scary new task of making new friends for the first time in 6 years. 

And it was scary. I'm loud as hell once you get to know me, but when I'm put into a situation where I am unknown, I tend to be quiet and shy. So making friends was scary. 

It happened soon enough. MaryAlison and Esha and I got to be fast friends, despite the occasional urge to kill one another. And I met Lauren and Claire either in Spanish Class or through voice, where each of our wise little first-year butts were hired to oversee our own sections of the newspaper. (Because, yes. We were just THAT good.) 

I remember one of our Editor-in-Chiefs asking Lauren and I if we were sisters because we apparently looked alike. (Because, obviously, every girl on the planet with masses of brown curly hair is related.) 

Oh, man-- I must tell you. My hair has lost the curly. I don't know what to do. I mean, I remember reading someplace that a woman's hair changes texture something like 7 times over the course of her lifetime, but, HELLO? Um, no one ever asked me if I wanted the curls to go away. And I mean, my hair is still wavy, but I can't help but wonder if this is some sort of punishment from the curly hair gods for chopping all of it off. But it was heavy, and I really wanted a change. It's not like I ever straighten it, I mean... Come on! Maybe when I get back to the humid Southern California summer, the curls will spring back up... I hope?

Anyway, back when I had curly hair, I also got to be friends with Claire. Another curly. Claire at the time was a walking Petri dish. She was sick. And I don't know how it came up, but she told me that she felt like her throat was going to implode or something, so I took her over some Throat Coat tea and a microwavable can of Chicken Noodle Soup in hope that it would make her feel better because I wanted us to be friends and I thought it would be kind of awkward to be friends with a person who didn't have a neck. Best to avoid that.

From there, Claire, Lauren and I had Spanish study session pow wows and embarked on a grand tour of the Scripps English Department. 

Anyway, by the end of freshman year, I had friends. I had a place. I knew where I was going and I was excited about it. 

Three years later--still unsure of how time has passed so quickly--I receive an e-mail from the professor in charge of the English Senior Seminar to tell us that we need to start thinking about our thesis topics, because we need to know them for our first class in the Fall. 

Shit. 

I'm really going to have to grow up now. But first, I'm going to have to write a thesis. And I have NO CLUE what I'm going to write mine about...