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Elodie's Off to College (But Only If She Finishes Packing)

Elodie's Off to College (But Only If She Finishes Packing)

By Elodie

I’m packing for college. And by that, I mean I’m chucking everything into a disorganized heap in the middle of our living room, hoping all my socks will just come to life and pack themselves.

As stated in previous posts, I’m pretty much the last one to leave for college—which means I get to sit at home and read tantalizing Facebook statuses such as “Dance party in the dorm!” or “COLLEGE IS THE BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.” I have this fear that people will be saying, “Yeah, everyone LOVES college. Well, I mean, there are exceptions… take this one girl Elodie, for instance…”

I know I’m exactly the kind of person who could potentially fall victim to crippling bouts of homesickness, hole up in her dorm room and refuse to leave. But I’m holding out for a better outcome than that.

I’ve only talked with my roommate, Christine, via Facebook, but she seems nice. We both like House and Gilmore Girls, at any rate, which I think is grounds for a solid relationship. Fun fact—remember that girl I met at orientation? Tish? We’ve kept in touch, and it turns out her roommate is a girl from my city who used to date Liam! Small world, huh?

Today I said goodbye to Allison. She’s staying here and going to community college. I’ve known Allison since first grade—she’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and she always stands by me even when I totally suck as a human being. We talk about school and guys and everything in between. So basically, saying goodbye over coffee made me feel like I was kicking a puppy, because when Allison cries, the world cries with her.

Speaking of guys, I have an update. Doesn’t it figure? Mere days before I’m set to leave for college, Tristan resurfaces.

(Quick recap: Tristan was my first almost-kiss. He was in some trouble with the law recently. Our families are friends and as such we see each other occasionally.)

On this occasion, we happened to be at a high school football game. My family lives for football. When the season starts, this family unit comes to life. Case in point: we were running late to the game, so we listened to the commentary on the radio and cheered at the appropriate times—noisemakers and all. I even had a cowbell. In fact, we weren’t even running late to our game; we were running late to our rival school’s game. Our game wasn’t until after. We were ultimately there for six and a half hours. Voluntarily. We're sick, but I've accepted it.

Okay, so our rival school was playing this school from downstate, and Tristan’s brother was playing for the aforementioned downstate school, so Tristan and his family showed up. (Look how much we have in common! Brothers who play football! That’s something, right?) I had anticipated this, so I decided to glam it up—I wore my brother’s football jersey, eyeliner, mascara, gorgeous jeans… all that jazz. (That’s why we were running late, actually. But I weighed punctuality against the knowledge that I came off kind of “cute and sporty.”) Anyway—our families got together, one thing led to another, and pretty soon we were both cheering like lunatics during the game, and he was showing me magic tricks at halftime.

Do I like Tristan? No. He’s a high school senior, and I’m going off to college tomorrow. He flirts with a lot of girls, and I’ve never been kissed. He likes Coke, I like Pepsi. Stuff like that. It would never work. I know that, and so does he. (Plus, he’s a Michigan State fan, and I’m going to the University of Michigan. Let’s disregard the fact that I was a State fan right up until I got my college acceptance letter, and we'll just say that this is a difference that would have disrupted out relationship. I’ve had a few commenters ask where I’m going to college, so there’s your answer! I think one savvy Sparkler actually guessed it, so ten points for you!)

But having a nice, cute, funny guy tell me I look pretty is quite high up on the list of Things That Guarantee a Good Day (others include drinking really cold milk after eating a big slice of cake, and watching old people breakdance). For once, he was the one making the effort, and he was the one apologizing endlessly when he let slip something I found offensive, and he was the one using little winky faces in our text messages. For once, it was just nice not to be the one doing the chasing.

I really need to start getting everything together. My pile of stuff is claiming ownership in the living room. Oh my God—it just hit me. I’m going to college. Can you believe that? I always figured when I got to this point in my life I would’ve already evolved into this mature college student with a “ready to take on the world” mentality. Instead, I’m eating cookies and wondering if I should bring my Mario and Luigi plushies, my wizard hat, or my life-size piggy bank.

I’m a little bit excited and whole lot nervous. I keep having this recurring dream where I get stuck in the elevator in my dorm, and I want to call my parents but they’re hundreds of miles away and aren’t picking up. Also, I have the ability to fly, but I can’t because I’m stuck in the elevator. It’s quite the nightmare.

Okay—now I’m really going to finish packing. Wish me luck! (With the packing and starting a new chapter in my life, but mostly the packing.)

Are you leaving for college soon? Are you already there? Is is the BEST THING EVER or does it suck so far? BE HONEST.

Related post: NBK Michigan

Topics: Life, College Advisor
Tags: college, crushes, friends, football, nightmares, packing, going to college, never been kissed, adventures, never been kissed michigan, nbk, nbk michigan, new beginnings, saying goodbye, starting college, packing for college

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About the Author
Elodie

Writer. College student. Good at losing her keys, eating breakfast sandwiches, and holding lifelong grudges. She realizes none of these things will help her survive a zombie apocalypse, and she’s made her peace with that. You can follow her on Twitter @elleohdee, but it’s just going to be a lot of complaining.

Wanna contact a writer or editor? Email contribute@sparknotes.com.