The other day I was on campus, in between activities, and I watched groups of parents with their kids wandering around with lost looks in their eyes.  They were holding the characteristic red orientation packets that scream, “I’m probably lost and confused right now!”  Moms were holding maps upside down and backwards, pointing at buildings and screwing their eyes.  Dads were standing in the middle of the roadways, blocking bicycle traffic.  Girls were trying to fit into the college crowd, combing their hair with their fingers and looking around nervously.  They were wearing nice clothes and designer flip flops.  They failed miserably at fitting in.

See, at this point, with only 11 real class days left in the fall semester, we college kids are in survival mode.  Last week I pulled two all-nighters.  Seven page paper due tomorrow?  No problem…just lemme run to Starbucks first.  I’ve seen more bloodshot eyes in the past few days than I have ever seen in my life.

“Why is your shirt all wrinkly…and smelly?”

“I wore it yesterday, and I slept in it last night, and it was the first thing I saw this morning so….”

“Yeah,  I know what you mean.”

I am in survival mode until the end of the semester.  I can sleep at any time, in any situation.  I will eat things that are total crap, just because I’m not sure when I’ll have time to eat next.  My drink of choice is caffeinated tea.  I feel like a character in a first-person shooter game whose mission is to survive under fire for 10 minutes; I know it’ll be over soon, I’ve just got to make it there.

Registering for next semester’s classes is both exciting and nerve wracking. Students are assigned a certain time period for registration. This time is based on class standing and student ID number. Some classes must be registered through an academic advisor (as in the case of art classes which are protected by the School of Art soldiers), but most classes are up for grabs.

Before registration opens, you have to check a website that lists all of the classes offered, when they are scheduled to meet, and how many seats are still open. Scheduling takes an immense amount of planning; just because a class fits perfectly into your major’s requirements and time schedule does not mean that it still has open seats.

This time I had it easy–three of my five classes are art classes (so an advisor registered for me), one is a freshman English class (I have sophomore standing so I get to register a week before the freshmen), and the other is a psychology class that had a lot of space still.

Ivvette, my roommate, didn’t have such an easy time. The following is an actual account of what happened on Sunday, October 28, 2007.

12:45pm
Ivvette: We need fight music.

Alisa: Fight music…Eye of the Tiger. Check. Is your math class still open?

I: Eight seats.

A: Alright. English?

I: Fifteen seats.

A: Good. Chem?

I: One-hundred ten seats.

A: Okay. Philosophy?

I: Twenty-two seats.

A: Are you logged in on at least three browser windows?

I: Yep. Are you?

A: Yep. [I logged in under her ID to increase the chances of her getting the classes that she needs.]

12:50pm
Ivvette: Aliiiisaaa? What does a registration hold mean?

Alisa: Are you kidding me? Ten minutes until registration opens and you’ve got a hold?

I: It says that I need to meet with my advisor. I met with her already! I did it!

A: Hm…

I: I’m freaking out! I have to get these classes! I’ll email her.

A: It’s a Sunday. She won’t check her email.

I: I have to do something!

A: Do you have her phone number?

I: Only her office phone….

A: I’m on it.

12:55pm
Alisa: Alright, there are three people with her name in Tucson. Go down the list.

Ivvette: Okay…. [Dials and whispers, "It's her!"]

12:57pm
A: I can’t believe you just called your advisor on her home phone.

I: Hey, I can register now! How many seats are left in my math class?

A: Four.

I: Four?!

1:00pm
Alisa: Yay! It’s open! It’s like when the ball drops on New Year’s!

Ivvette: You get my math class, I’ll grab English.

A: Lecture 24 is full! Plan B?

I: Plan B! Plan B! Aahh! Two seats left in English!

A: Okay you’re in Lecture 26. I’ll get philosophy.

I: Philosophy lecture 5 won’t work with my math class being lecture 26.

A: Will lecture 7 work?

I: I’ll have to get a different English class. Get lecture 7!

A: How’s chem?

I: 50 seats, I’m working on it.

A: There’s an English class at 7:30 on Mondays and Wednesdays.

I: No! I can’t deal with that! My chem lab goes until 4pm on Wednesday. I’ll be at school too long.

A: Okay what about 9am?

I: Darn I’ll have four classes all in a row, but it will have to work.

A: Aye, Aye.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So, we’re registered.

English 104h - Honor’s Composition
Individuals and Societies 101 - Structure of Mind and Behavior
Art 101 - Drawing
Art 102 - Color and Design
Art 104 - 3-Dimensional Design

Now that midterms are over I finally have a chance to sit back and think about things.  Things that are finally allowed to sink in and soak up a while.  I’ve reached the point where I can be compared to a sponge, saturated in every pore, and now I must start letting the stagnant water seep back out.

First, no matter how great my roommate is, and how thankful I am to have a good roommate, no two people are ever perfectly compatible.  She does a lot of little things that just don’t make a whole lot of sense.  For instance, she will throw cutting knives together with the rest of the eating utensils all in a heap.  This dulls the blades of the cutting knives and makes nicks on the other things.  Also, her sense of style is pretty good, but her sense of decorating sucks.

Second, brick walls are not soundproof.  Even though my apartment has brick walls, I feel intimately connected with my neighbors’ lives.  The girl in #2304 just had a messy break up, which she blamed on her boyfriend, but the night before the screaming match over the telephone she was making out with some wannabe Abercrombie and Fitch model.

The chick in #2302 moved into these apartments to be closer to the university, but actually I’m pretty sure the move was made to get out of her parents’ house.  I met her mom, and that lady is super defensive of her daughter’s high standards.  Little does she know her daughter is consistently out until 2am.

The Australian exchange student down the way just spent a couple thousand dollars on a new laptop, but all she’s going to use it for is checking her Facebook.  What a shame.

A girl who I almost roomed with, also had a recent break-up.  But I saw that coming because she slept with a random guy the very first weekend of school.

Third, I am no longer sure of what I would like to be when I grow up.  One thing is for sure though: I hate writing essays.

Fourth, nothing really makes up for family.  I’ve tried to create a family, but it doesn’t work.  Ninja, my beta fish, is very affectionate, but he is only a fish.  He hits his head repeatedly on his fish bowl every day because he hasn’t quite figured out how to eat his food.  He had it figured out for a while by using his dorsal fin to keep the food circling in the middle of the bowl until he could eat it, but now he seems to have forgotten his trick.  I love my computer, Stapplin, and I can make him talk to me, but he only says what I tell him to say.  I had a rat, but she bit me.  So much for love.

Today on campus I was approached by a girl taking surveys because today is National Depression Awareness Day (or something).

“Want to take this short survey?  It’s for statistical purposes only, and you’ll get a free Eegees when you turn it in!”

Eegees is similar to a slushy mixed with sorbet.  The high today was 94F (that would be 34C).

“Sure.  I’ll take a free Eegees.”

So I took the survey.  It was asking questions like, “Have you felt tired or sluggish in the last week?”  and “Do you ever have nightmeres?”  or even “Have you been eating healthful foods lately?”

Then I turned the survey in and asked for some strawberry Eegees.

“You’re borderline depressed.  Would you like to talk about it?”

“I’m not depressed.  I’ve never been happier.”

“Your answers indicate that you are depressed.”

“I’m not.  I swear.”

“A lot of suicides happen because people do not get an outlet to talk about their depression.”

“Look.  Just because a girl hung herself in her dorm earlier this year does not mean that I am depressed.  Can I have a strawberry Eegees?”

“Have you ever been diagnosed as being bi-polar?”

“No.  I’m not depressed and I’m not bi-polar.”

“You answered yes to the question, ‘Have you ever been hyper?’ and your answers indicate that you are borderline depressed.”

“Have you ever had a venti caramel machiatto from Starbucks?  I’m pretty sure they put like three espresso shots in that.  Also, I’m not depressed.”

“You seem hostile.  That’s a sign of depression.”

“Can I have a strawberry Eegees?”

So I turned 18 on September 21. I think being 18 is less about buying cigarettes, cough syrup, and porn, and more about being able to look adult problems in the eye and not cringing.

I think being 18 is about realizing that I need to get over myself.

I think being 18 is about stopping worrying about those social rules that society lays before me. I feel like I can say what I want, ignore who I want, and stop laughing at stupid jokes that aren’t even funny. What will they do? Tell my mom?

I think being 18 is about appreciating art, politics, and the feelings behind them.

I think being 18 is about thinking of myself as equal and not beneath.

I think being 18 is about not hiding the bad days, the bad thoughts, the bad things.

I think being 18 is about being above what other people think about where I put my attention.

I think being 18 is about accepting the thoughts that I have and not pushing them away, because really, there’s probably a good reason that I had those thoughts in the first place.

I think being 18 is about not being embarressed about being interested in the naked barbie pictures on the walls of the local café, buying candles with alcoholic names, talking about sexual feelings, or thinking that medical marijuana should be legalized.

But mostly, I think being 18 is about thinking for myself because, well, I’m an adult now and so my opinion counts just as much as any other adult’s opinion.