By Lynne Shackelford

Ever since I came to school down here at this lovely university, I’ve done a lot of new things. I’ve made new friends, learned new stuff, and, most importantly, I’ve gotten a taste of the real world. It’s just a taste because, like it or not, even though we’re away from our parents, we’re still not quite out on our own. We still eat in a cafeteria and have someone looking out for us (I love you, Sherri!). We’re still IN SCHOOL. But it’s new, nonetheless, everything about it.

The teachers have master’s degrees and doctorates, so they are significantly smarter than the teachers in high school, but you don’t have to call them Mister or Missus. My first semester I was addressing my professors by everything from "Owen" (MTH 145) to "Your Excellency" (PHI 105). If you get one who wants to be called "Doctor", consider yourself either lucky (it’s easier to remember) or screwed (these are typically the stricter instructors).

The classes are harder, too. Not necessarily because the material is tougher, but because you have a choice of whether or not to go to class. It seems so easy just to sleep through that 8am class, up until the prof hands you the study sheet for the Exam and over ¾ of the stuff looks like ancient Greek. If most of what you learn at college you read while in the bathroom, you need to go to class more. Your safest bet: don’t take any classes before noon if you can avoid it. Remember this if nothing else: there are no bells to tell you when to get to class except your alarm clock, so buy a good one.

Oh, and remember all those wonderful study habits you’ve been spending the last 18-19 years building up? Forget ’em. In grammar through high school, we’ve been taught to memorize, you remember: Read, Recite, Review and all that jazz? Talk about your wasted energy. Yeah, you still have to read and review, that’s only natural. But you can’t just spit out facts and numbers any more and expect to pass. You have to UNDERSTAND: know what it means and how it all relates to each other. If you just put down that the Battle of Hastings took place in 1066, you’re gonna fail. You’ve gotta know who won, what great acheivements took place, and what amazing turn of events resulted because of it. My advice in this area: forget everything you learned in school except for the 5W’s and 1H; learn a lot of big words and improve your skills your B.S.-ing.

Those of you who I didn’t bore to death with the section on classes, congrats. You’ve now made it to the social sphere of this essay; in laymen’s terms, the part about friends, parties, and sex. This is probably the most interesting part for the reader.

You will make more friends than ever before at college. At least I did. Of course, I went from a high school of 500 students to a university of 17,000. The campus was the size of my hometown and had 8 times as many people. This was a great experience, as well as mind-blowing. I met so many people from so many different backgrounds. The guys were even hornier and more perverted than back home (a REAL shocker), and one of my best friends was a stripper. I had never had gay friends before college, or known any atheists. Never before had I openly discussed issues such as abortion and homosexuality with people who’s views contradicted my own directly. But most of all, I was amazed at how knowing all these people and being confronted with these views increased my own openness towards others’ views, as well as my respect for them.

Now, you must realize that before I came to college, I had only had one drink of alcohol my entire life. I was a good little Christian girl who still carried with her that divine idea of "waiting until I was married". One week at college and I realized I was insane. I’d be lucky if I made it to the end of my freshman year a virgin, let alone at least the next four years. So, to maintain a Christian attitude yet still make myself clear amongst my potential partners, I adjusted my views on sex to saying that I was waiting for the right person instead of my future husband. Guys respect this and get a weird ego-boost off of you doing anything with them when you have this outlook. Makes them feel special, I guess, that you considered them.

Then of course there’s this whole concept of dating. If you’re one of those people who comes to college looking for your future spouse, you’re in the wrong place. Hardly anybody’s looking for a serious relationship right off, and by serious, I mean a commitment. I was hesitant at first to meet a lot of different guys, because I "just knew" they were all going to get mad at me one day. Then once I realized that I wasn’t the only girl they were seeing, things became much easier. I could go out and hang out or party with different guy-friends each weekend, and no one thought the lesser of me. That kind of got me, because back home, girls who did that, whether they actually did something with them or not, were automatically labeled whores. Needless to say, I try and keep most the people back home in the dark. It’s not too hard.

I discovered that alcohol in moderation (meaning having enough sense to not get shit-faced when you have to drive) made parties a whole lot more fun, and increased your willingness to do… oh, just about anything. Yup, a couple beers and typically shy Lynne’s the life of the party. Oh, by the way, if you ever get invited to a theater party, GO. They’re great.

Speaking of which, I would like to crack the horrible misconception everyone has about theater people and theater parties:

• All the guys who are Theater majors ARE NOT gay. Some of them, yes, but I’m sure there are some gay pre-med students, too. On the contrary, Theater men are in the majority great. At the time of writing this, I’m seeing a Theater guy. They’re much more creative and have a very interesting outlook on life. One of my friends, if you get him drunk, he’ll tell you his entire life philosophy. They also have a tendency to be very passionate about EVERYTHING (BIG romantic plus).
• Theater people in general are all great. They tend to come in very close-knit groups who are all very supportive of each others’ performance. They’re a tight group who you can feel very comfortable around, simply because they’re comfortable with you.
• Theater Party does not automatically equal massive orgy. I’ve been to numerous theater parties and have never even heard of anything like that going on. The people are much more open about their bodies, possibly because actors have to learn to be comfortable in many different situations onstage. I have heard of "size contests" (I hope I shouldn’t have to explain that)—I unfortunately cannot say I have witnessed one--, but that went on with the football team back home-nothing new. Nope, we usually just sit around getting plastered and criticize really bad actors who aren’t at the party, listen to music, sing and dance a lot, too. Occasionally you’ll do soemthing with someone that probably wasn’t in your best interest, but we have an advantage in that sitch. When that happens at other parties, they’ll say, "It was the alcohol talking". We can just go, "Hey, I don’t know about you, but I was ACTING."

Everyone has favorite memories about the "greatest four years of their life". That includes me, even though I’m still just starting out. Would you like to hear some of mine? Well, you have to anyways, because I’m the one writing this, not YOU.

A couple months into the semester, I started dating this guy named Jon. Jon’s great, and he’s everything you could ask for in a friend and a love interest: witty, funny, sweet, and absolutely adorable. He had sandy blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes, an unforgettable laugh and a smile that could light up the far side of Pluto. There was only one problem: there was another man on campus who shared all these charming characteristics—Jon’s identical twin brother, Nick.

Not that I fell for Nick. No. Personality-wise, they couldn’t have been more different, and it was Jon who gave me the "Liver Quivers", but physically they were identical in almost every way. The only difference was in their hair: Nick’s was short and spiky, Jon’s was ear-length and usually mussed. Well, that’s all fine and dandy till they put a hat on. Then you have to start remembering those wearing what hat. The first time I ever saw them together I was drunk as a skunk and confused as hell. It wasn’t until Nick left that the permanent look of "Ohmigod, I’m going insane" left my face.

A week or two ago I was walking to class when I saw Jon and a mutual friend coming the other way. I waved, but Jon just smiled and nodded and passed me by. Well, after the initial shock of being blown off went away (elapsed time: 5 seconds), I whirled around and proceded to rail on Jon. "How dare you just walk past me! No hello, no heya sweetie, not even a goddamned hug! You ALWAYS hug me." About this time our friend pipes up and says, "It’s not Jon."

Well, after the initial shock wore off again, I grinned sheepishly and waved at Nick. "Hi," I said, feeling very small and ignorant. He smiled back at me and took off his hat in a way that somehow managed to make me feel even stupider, then walked away. Jon got a big kick out of that story when I told him that night.

Now that I’ve known them for a while, I can tell them apart pretty well, even with hats. They have their own little habits and quirks that you pick up on after a while. And once you really start looking, they have some physical differences. Even so, I still find myself doing a double take every once in a while.

After about two weeks of settling in, I decided I wanted to go to a party. My friend Brandon invited me to go with him, then left for the party without me. After that, I not only wanted to go to a party, I wanted to drink—A LOT. So a friend drove me to "Party Street"(I’ll leave the street nameless for the sanctity of those who are over there now doing keg stands) near campus and got me a couple beers. It was the most disgusting thing I ever tasted, but I swallowed it down and managed to smile.

I met a lot of guys that night, more than I ever had before. They were all drunk, and hung all over me. Most were attracted by the "*69" shirt I was wearing. They all wanted to know if they could try it out. I’d just smile and laugh and squeeze by. I finally ran into a group of guys I knew, so I spent the rest of the night sitting on the couch with them. They were both Theatre majors and both VERY straight. Guys continued to come up and comment on my shirt, and around 2am when we got up to leave, I was followed en masse by a group of over-buzzed males. They dispersed in the lawn and the two guys walked me home. It wasn’t until we got back to my dorm and had been talking for a while when one guy asked me, "Lynne, is that what I think it is in your pocket?" I turned around as well I could to see a small circular object in my back pocket. I pulled it out, finding none other than a generic brand condom. Brandon had stuck it in my pocket and I had forgotten about it. I must have looked like a two-bit whore, with my *69 shirt, fully loaded with protection. Needless to say, Brandon got bitched out royally that night when he rolled in.