Responsibility Bites.

It's too true. All our years in High School we couldn't wait to be adults and finally have some respect and responsibility. When we graduated, we thought, life would be easier. No drama, no kid stuff; we could do whatever we wanted to do.

Well... some of that is true.

When you graduate from High School and go on to College, it is true that some of your drama goes away. It's no longer "Ohmygawd, Sally Whats-her-face is such a B**ch! She stole my lip gloss!". Instead, it's people bawling about not being able to pay their loans off, or dropping out of college because it's simply too stressful, or screaming at their roommate for something or other, or any of a thousand other things. That's right, in college you have to live with someone. At least in High School you had your own room to yourself. No more!

The "kid gloves" do come off in College. So - no more teachers going easy on you because you forgot about a paper. No more parents who will wake you up in time for school, or remind you to eat some fruit before you get scurvy, for goodness' sake! No more bottomless pantries and constantly stocked refrigerators. A lot of things go away. But at the same time, you get a lot in return.

No more parents to gripe at you for sleeping in until three in the afternoon on a Saturday. No one can make you dress "normally", you can walk around in your p.j.'s for all anyone cares. You can eat what you want, when you want. You can sleep if/when you want. You can watch anything, do anything, and be anyone you've ever wanted to be. If you go to a school far from home, you can completely remake yourself into what other people have always told you you couldn't be.

However, being whoever you want to be can be expensive. Life isn't cheap when you're living it day by day. This is where being an adult kind of starts to suck. Sure, you could get drunk whenever you want and smoke five packs a day... or you could pass your classes and get a good job. Sure, you could party every night and sleep until noon... or you could graduate in four years instead of six. Sure, you could never do laundry again as long as you live... or you could live in a room where the bugs don't outnumber the unpaired socks in your underwear drawer. You could spend every dime of your summer job money on designer clothes... or you could put it in a savings account for the future.

The beautiful thing is no one will tell you which one to do. It's your choice. You are in complete control of your life.

Empowering, isn't it?

Suddenly, the world is so much larger and holds so much more promise. Scary.

Responsibility is tough, because no one can really teach you to be responsible. They can present you with opportunities to show responsibility, and hope you don't screw up. It's like being taught to swim by having someone throw you in the diving pool - it's kind of Pass/Fail. Sure, you'll screw up sometimes, but individual moments won't define your entire life. Learning is a life-long process.


Now stop procrastinating and do your homework! A good education won't earn itself!

You Know You're Becoming an Adult When...

There are some signs that responsibility is gaining a foothold in your previously fun and carefree life. Here are a few that I've begun to notice:

When you arrive to your work-study job ten minutes early so that the shift before you can get to class on time.

When you're the reliable "sober person" on campus because you don't get hammered or high three to four times a week.

When your fridge has more fruit in it than your pantry has junk food.

When your desk is covered in homework and textbooks, and you haven't seen the surface since you moved in.

When you can be counted on to make sure the bathroom stays reasonably clean.

When you can be counted on to be in your room reading a book almost every Friday and Saturday night.

When your "goals" for a week-long break from school include cleaning out your old closet, starting a savings account, and sorting through your childhood art portfolios.

When you have "goals" for a break, instead of plans to party.

When you start sorting trough your clothes and giving away the options that show too much cleavage and you mutter to yourself "I would never wear this to work."

When you compulsively hang up or put away any clothes that are lying around the room, muttering about the mess.

When you do laundry at least once a week, even if you really don't have to.

When you wash your sheets every week because it's just better hygiene.

When you start making lists like these.

Can I Get a Refund on Adulthood?

It's hard being an adult. Mostly because I don't actually feel like an adult yet. I feel like a tall teenager who suddenly has a bit more money at any point in time, and a lot more responsibility. I want lots of things in life: clothes, food, movies, (insert expensive desirable here). The problem comes with how I was raised to treat money. Thanks, Mom.

I worked two jobs and volunteered at a third over the summer so that I could build up mu bank account, and not be eating not-so-great cafeteria food all semester. I wanted the better things in life, and I worked my butt off (quite literally, in the case of being a farm hand) to get there.

And Mom comes in. I was raised that, theoretically, I could spend my money on whatever I wanted. If I wanted to eat candy until I puked I was going to pay for every piece. And when that candy was gone and I had no more money for, say, comics, well that was too bad. I had wanted candy, and didn't look ahead.

Granted my parents weren't evil. they understood that I was still new at the whole "responsible money management" thing, and helped me along with my finances when I was growing up. "Do you really need the Bratz Mall?" Probably not.

But now I'm an "adult", so people keep telling me. I can sign contracts, get a real job (or several) and make really, really stupid financial mistakes. When you suddenly have a lot more money at your disposal than you're ever seen in your entire life, those designer shoes you've always wanted are starting to whisper your name.

Hey.

I'm pretty.

Don't you want to buy me?

I'm only absurdly expensive.

It's an investment, I promise.

Trust me!

The sweet call of designer clothing is one I hear quite keenly. I want to dress myself in beautiful things and drown in diamonds and platinum until I simply cannot stand the sight of them.

Savings banks have ridiculously low investment returns for small savings accounts. Earning pennies for fighting not to spend money hardly seems worth it. Unfortunately I know that if I spent all of the money I fought for that I would hate myself, and no amount of movies and clothes could comfort me.

I want the nicer things in life. i want them now. But I also want to have the nicer things in life twenty years from now, and not be living out of a trailer because I wanted a nice skirt now.

Money management really doesn't have as sweet a song as Italian leather...

New Dorms and (OH GOODNESS!!) Creepy Crawlies

There seems to be a universal problem with older dormitories, especially ones that back to trees and other wild flora. That issue is bugs. Creepy crawlies that sneak into your bedroom slippers and scare the living daylights out of you. They hide under baseboards and fly in your face when you least expect it. And besides the obvious stigma against them, they just freak me out.

I suppose as a Conservation Biology major I should feel kinder towards these insects. I should find a cup and piece of paper and gently release them outside. However, when i am apprehensive about living in a new place I do not want to be looking at carpenter ants first thing in the morning.

My dorm is relatively nice. It's not too far from central campus, and I can pretend that it's peaceful sometimes. Bugs are the main problem.

My first week on campus I nearly had a meltdown. The bugs were stressing me out! I had big fat juicy carpenter ants appearing out of nowhere and crawling down my walls. I had silverfish hiding in the footwell of my desk. I had fruit flies. I had bugs.

I broke down when talking to my mom over Skype, and she sent me the cavalry. A nice care package filled with poison for bugs. On an Environmentally friendly campus, this would not generally be seen as a favorable method for getting peace in one's homestead, but I had enough of these bugs.

I sealed up all of the cracks in my walls, floor, and air conditioning system. I laid down Borax dust, thoroughly enforcing the fact I would almost never be able to have a small furry pet in my room. I sprayed Raid everywhere.

Still, the bugs got in.

I was beyond frustrated. I just wanted peace in my room, and the creepy crawlies were giving me the heebie jeebies. At College X you're supposed to feel all touchy-feely about all parts of the environment. Forget that, I said, when it comes to bugs there's no touchy-feely, only ouchy-bleedy.

As a method of last resort (after all that poison, what more could there be?) I tried a suggestion that seemed to work for a friend of my mother's: Windex+Vinegar. I was skeptical. Windex?? All these serious poisons weren't working, and Windex was supposed to fix my problem??

I tried it.

I had one last confused ant scurry across my floor a few days after I first sprayed, and for some reason I haven't seen any more since.

I'm not really sure which of my extreme methods really did the trick, and I honestly don't care. My room is my own, and I (sometimes) have peace.

Although, I still haven't worked up the courage to look under my dresser and see if the Borax finally killed the Silverfish under there. Honestly, I don't really want to know.

Get It In Writing

Most of my updates seem to come from my college campus, to no great surprise. College is where fledgling adults lean over the nest and notice that it's really quite far to the ground and the forest floor isn't a soft landing pad. Luckily, those of us who are lucky enough to have parents who smile and help you back into the nest when you get a claw stuck on a thorn have some kind of safety net.

I am very fortunate to have a safety net. I may not always like them, but they're there.

But this post connects the past summer with the current school year, because it has to do with finances. This summer I worked two jobs, and volunteered at a third. I had a business internship at a private Montessori school, I was a home organizer for a woman with M.S., and I was a volunteer coordinator at an animal rescue farm. Busy summer! Profitable summer!

The woman with M.S. payed me on a day-to-day basis, and was always grateful for my services, and it was always nice to hear her praise. The private school was a little shaky on how they were going to transfer my funds, but I trusted them because I used to attend that school, and I was friendly with the principal (my boss). I worked for them on a four-week internship, and after turning in copies of my final work, I was informed I would most likely get my last paycheck within a few days by mail.

This would have been great! I would have gotten my paycheck before I left for college once more, and I wouldn't be weighing the pros and cons of buying a five-dollar book.

This did not happen.

I waited a week. No check.

Two weeks? No check

two and a half weeks, e-mail the principal, only to find out it hadn't gotten in the mail yet. She guarantees it got in the mail that day.

In an area with one-day turnaround for same-area mail, half a week later... No check.

As a student with something of a limited income, I'm very familiar with the idea of dog-earing money for something long before you get it. I am now getting into the point of spending the money before I get it, which is very bad. I keep thinking, "This will be covered by my check when it comes, so it's okay to just eat a little bit into my savings now!"

No good.

But Mom was right, yes, get a payment plan in place before you start working for "The Man."

And find a squishier safety net.

No, Really, Please Cover That Up...

I'm not joking, I really don't want to see what color G-string you're wearing.

Going through my closet full of clothes I don't really wear anymore is an interesting experience. I go to a hippie work college, where nearly everyone wears practical clothes, and the only brands that are really acknowledged are Dickies and Carhartt. Flannel is a must for cold mountain winters, and high heels aren't practical when the entire campus is on a slant, due to being built into the side of a mountain.

As you may imagine, a life separated from fashion allows one to gain a different view about the fashion of "the real world."

I returned home from college recently (barely fitting all of my things into a tiny hybrid) and came to the conclusion that I have too much stuff. I own a lot of nice things, but what I really have a lot of is STUFF. Unnecessary dust-catchers and barely-sentimental things that I would certainly never take to my first apartment, let alone show to a roommate.

A yard sale presented itself as a grand opportunity to get rid of my STUFF, and I made a good deal of money getting rid of it. While enjoying my now slightly less messy room, I felt it necessary to go through my clothes as well. I owned a lot of things I would never take to my college with me - either because they were too dressy for a farm school or I just wouldn't be caught dead in them.

As any teenager knows, once you get rid of clothes you have an empty void in your closet just begging to be filled.

"Dad? Can we go shopping tomorrow? I need pants." Because I've thrown out the ones from high school that were falling off of my hips.

I have never had a particularly wonderful relationship with department stores and clothes shopping. According to fashion I have an abnormal shape - healthy. I'm not overweight or underweight, so nothing fits me correctly.

Any attempt to find jeans that covered by butt in a dignified manner seemed nearly impossible. It looked as thought I would have to go for "granny" jeans, or deal with never sitting down or bending over ever again. Why on earth do high school kids think it's cool to dress in extremely revealing clothing? It's humiliating and embarrassing and degrading. I won't wear it. Nope.

My father and I wandered the mall until we came to a slightly more promising (and friendly) department store. There I managed to find pants that actually covered my buttocks and kept me looking respectable. Sold.

While enjoying my new purchases, I wonder over fashion sense (or nonsense). If high school students are convinced into buying rather revealing clothing by advertising that shows college students wearing said chilly clothing... why aren't college students wearing it?

For College X, there is an extremely simple answer: It's not practical.

Not only is it not practical, you look like an idiot. If Sally Susan What's-her-face walked into a law firm wearing low-rise skinny jeans, high heels, and a Twilight and/or Justin Bieber fan shirt no one would hire her. While being hip is great for popularity in the drama-ridden world of high school, there comes a time when every young adult gets their first reality check (with taxes withheld) and realizes it's time to grow up.

Showing off your neon pink underthings may be a great way to get a skeevy date, but it's no way to get a job or earn respect in the real world. my mother never allowed me to dress in a way that belittled me or represented me only as an object, even when my only desire was to dress this way just to fit in. I am eternally grateful.

So please, once you go off to college, it's time to trade in the "hip" look for a wardrobe that actually covers what clothing is meant to cover.

I Own Too Much Stuff

Nothing makes you think more about what you own than packing up everything to go home for the summer.

I own too much stuff. I'm not talking about the sweaters or coats or nbooks or DVDs or balls or yarn waiting to be knitted - I'm talking about the random doodads you can't seem to organize into any particular box or bag. The boxes of thumbtacks and the dozen boxes of pens and pencils you thought you would need but never used. When planning to fit all of your room into a tiny hybrid, some serious choices have to be made.

Why do we feel the need to own so much? Why do we feel the need to fill the empty spaces in our lives with free magazines and plastic stress balls with obnoxious smiles? Why don't we choose more green? More flowers and more herbs and things we already push out of our lives? Why does empty space scare us so much?

As a wise Peter Walsh once said (and I paraphrase): there's a difference between owning something, and something owning you. Right now when I'm having to choose between electric candles and a desk organizer.

Beh.

This is ridiculous. How can it be so hard to choose whaat's important to us, and let go that which does not matter? Option One: hire Peter Walsh to come and make you do it. Option Two: Think about how little you appreciate the things that are starting to own you, and then think about how happy someone else might be to get it for a bargain at a Salvation Army near you. I think Option One would make for a funny afternoon, but Two is more heartwarming.

Just like buying toys, its easier to think of how much we want something right now. I really hate deciding to get rid of things I paid good money for because I've never used them, and there's no point cramming it into a tiny car to not use it in another state. I paid for it, gosh-darn-it, I want it to be meaningful!!

We want and want and want.

Green your life.

Give back by giving away.