This Time, I Ain't Dancing On A Frat House Bar

After spending a phenomenal weekend with Molly and Abby at Molly's parents' still-under-construction lake house (Steve Adams knows how to do retirement, I'll tell you what;this joint is going to be unbelievable when it is done) Chris dropped me off at the dorms for my return to college life. My thoughts on the experience thus far:

* It might sound cliched, but I really feel like a freshman. You'd know I'm not lying if you could have seen me walking my ass to Whole Foods to grab some food, clutching my vinyl ID-card holder/keychain (with one lonely dorm-room key) and a inconspicuously-folded map of the campus, trying to not get lost.

* Despite the fact that it's July, there is still life on the campus, namely 300 or so cheerleaders here for cheer camp, and several incoming freshman here for orientation. I don't know what is more disturbing: the fact that I'm surrounded by kids who could conceivably be my former students, or the fact that they might ask me to buy them beer.

* I was the first of my roommates to arrive (most people aren't coming until tomorrow AM), and damn, dorms have blown up since I was in school. My "room" is a suite. There are four bedrooms, each with a desk, closet, bed, chest of drawers, pretty standard. However, we have two bathrooms (one with a shower-tub and one with a big walk-in shower) a living room, and a full kitchen with fridge, oven, and microwave. And wireless. No posters of Tupac, though.

* Why is my dorm right next to DPS? Does the reputation of my former self precede me?

Gotta jet. Not only do I have to check out whether or not Sodexho is up in this bitch, but I still don't have all my reading finished. You know that think blue book I've been carrying around since May? The Dialectic of Freedom? 135 pages? Yeah, I'm still on page 99. Shit is philosophical.

Some things never change.

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