I just want Mr. Feeny to come and tell me how to fix problems in every aspect of my life in a prophetic way. #isthatsomuchtoask

We had Christmas Eve and Post-Christmas Eve parties at my house. Having the people and food I love under my roof for two days is a spectacular blessing, mostly because I don’t even have pick out shoes to go with my outfit. But also because I’m a lucky member of probably 1% of humans in this world who gets to have so much food they almost barf and so much love they want to scream. With my gratefulness for my privilege stated, I will now commence one of the most cherished human past times, relaying frustrations about a mostly wonderful situation. 

After my holiday parties and other social interactions since I’ve been home for break, I have at least a zillion and half new rules to follow. Every friend, stranger, and family member knows what will surely make my life ten times more awesome than it is now.

A few of my new rules:

Don’t trust anyone you meet at parties.

Make friends at parties.

Make a lot of guy friends—girls are too much work.

Don’t worry about boys, just focus on your grades.

Work hard because college is expensive.

Don’t work too hard because college is the last time to be a kid.

You have force yourself to go to Frat parties.

Just go to house parties.

Find where you belong.

Go out of your comfort zone.

Clearly following all of these rules is impossible, which leaves me wondering what rules I should follow. I’ve decided that many of these rules are pieces of irrelevant advice (brought to you in part by: Alcoholic Beverages ™ Making people talk out of their asses since the beginning of time and Humans ™ Imposing their personal beliefs on others since they could speak). After my past two visits home, I let people’s voices bounce around in my head and convince me I was doing something wrong. I thought since all these people have already had the experience I’m going through, they must really know what they are talking about.

When I returned to school, I began second guessing a lot of my choices, which I wasn’t used to doing at school. The only person there who tells me I’m doing something wrong is my roommate. And it’s usually about indisputable things like when I plug in the heater, TV, and microwave at the same time its bad because it short-circuits half of the room. Also the only person at school who tells me I’m doing something right is myself. For example: when I’m angry, jogging up and down the stairs in my dorm a few times feels better than punching innocent walls. Wrong and right are very clear in these instances because nobody’s opinion is making me question my intuition.

What I’ve realized during this visit home is that other people’s idea of what will be the best thing for me to do, despite their good intentions, has no relevance to what I should do. One of my cousins forced herself to go to a Frat party and met her first college boyfriend there. That’s cool for her, but I’m not really desperate for one of those at this point in my life because they have cooties and I’m not vaccinated for that. My aunt made a lot of great guy friends in her dorm that became some of her closest friends. That’s cool for her, but most of the guys in my dorm are douche bags. Someone I babysit for had the time of their life in theatre at school. That’s cool for her, but the thought of being on stage makes me gassy. One of my sister’s friends made a bunch of new friends at Smoker’s Island, the picnic table located at the 100-foot distance from all dorms required by law. That’s cool for her, but I tried smoking for a hot second and its too expensive and smelly.

My favorite advice has come from my sister Adele. As far as personal interests and talents go, we couldn’t be more opposite. Her last recreational reading book was “Kendra: Sliding into Home,” the riveting tale of an ex-playboy bunny. One of my three current reads are “America in 1492: The World of the Indian Peoples Before the Arrival of Christopher Columbus.” She’s spectacular at math and she was DECA state finalist. Thinking about math and business presentations make me just as gassy as thinking about being on stage. She gets bored being in the house all day, but its one of my favorite activities. Her advice wasn’t even advice at all, which is why it’s the most reliable. During thanksgiving break, she asked me how many parties I’ve been to. I debated counting the time I went to this kids dorm with about 4 other people for a couple hours and mooched some of their definitely not alcoholic liquids before heading back to my room. I decided to be honest, so I didn’t include that one and told her I really have only been to three. She just smiled, shook her head and said, “You’re such a nerd.” I laughed and said, “Yeah, basically.”

You may be thinking, “Well this doesn’t seem very helpful. Like it’s not even that good of a story. Where are the insightful, wise words that bond you two for life?” Well sadly, we don’t live in a sitcom and nobody I know can show up in my moments of doubt and tell me exactly what I need to hear. But the fact that she accepted my choices as an extension of who I am, instead of telling me what I should do to become who I am going to be, is the best indirect advice in the world. These next few sentences are burdened with the weight of hypocrisy, because I’m going to give you (my faithful and possibly non-existent audience) a piece of advice. Take a few minutes to yourself, close your eyes, flush your mind of all the voices and words of everyone you know, turn off all electronics, keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times, and ask yourself how you feel. After your conversation with yourself is over, if you are satisfied with your answer award yourself 7,000 points and continue making great choices. If you are not satisfied with your answer, give yourself a gold star for being honest with yourself and then go try something else until you are.