My freshman year, at least the first semester, was spent bouncing from party to party on the weekends. I made a new friend like once an hour when we went out to parties and got hit on by creepy guys equally as much. If I really had to guess, on average, I'd say we went out at least three times a week (not including birthday weeks). Once midterm grades came around and I got slapped in the face by a fat C+, I was reminded that I actually needed to apply myself to get the grades I wanted. Having no classes on Fridays really changed my work ethic.

Second semester freshman year rolled around and of course the first few weekends are spent out, catching up with friends that you've been away from for a whole month. Then things got to the point where I had to drop a class...and then I was thinking about changing my major, not because I couldn't hack it, but because the major program I was already in just wasn't the right fit. In retrospect, I went out a lot more second semester freshman year than I realized at the time. I got all my work done, I got through my classes but by the time the weekend rolled around we were still going out upwards of 2-3 times a week.

First semester sophomore year, my grades were in good standing and I finally got my car on campus. Of course, with such privilege comes a certain responsibility. My parents and I agreed that I had to keep my grades up otherwise the car would be back at home collecting dust in my garage. Coming back from a long summer away from all of your friends is exciting and new faces show up in crowds you've gotten used to. Like usual, the first week of the semester is what we like to call "syllabus week", implying that lectures are a joke and there's no reason not to go out on a Tuesday night. Especially since the weather is still nice, the first few weekends of the fall semester are spent out at friends houses, drinking on the porch or crammed into someones backyard hoping the cops don't get called (welcome to small college house parties). Overall, we stopped going out more than once a weekend...and going out was saved strictly for that, the weekends.

Second semester sophomore year, this is when I officially retired the party girl mentality and almost as a whole, stopped going out. I got tired of 1) the mere cost of going out, whether it was on whatever alcohol I planned on drinking or paying for a cab back to campus 2) the time it took up to physically get ready to make it down to the party or wherever and 3) the drama that was accompanied by going out. Figuring out who's going to drive where is so much easier when you volunteer yourself as the DD, so I started doing this a lot. I stopped drinking in heavy social situations and focused more time on just being around people I actually wanted to be around...

While I'm still in the final stretch of my second semester sophomore year, I've noticed a drastic increase in the amount of work I can get done when my weekends are no longer condensed into Friday after class until we head downtown and a lazy, hungover, Sunday afternoon. My grades have sky rocketed and I'll officially be graduating an entire year ahead of my class. You guys are probably wondering if I even have a life now that I don't go out...yes, yes I do. Just because I don't go out and get, as my roommate likes to say, "black out haaaaaammered," doesn't mean I don't still have fun.

And to answer your question, yes, my cover picture is me in a pile of leaves, and no, I was not passed out in said picture -- I was actively aware that I was laying in a pile of leaves; I was enjoying the beginning of fall.