“Music is what feelings sound like”

I usually don’t listen to the radio. I always listen to Pandora in the car and on my computer whenever I’m getting some work done. Naturally, whenever I do turn on a radio, I’m overwhelmed with nostalgia. There’s a collection of songs that define each year of my college experience. Since I graduated, the back to school commercials that  keep infiltrating my life make me moderately sad. So here’s a musical trip down memory lane…

Freshman year 2010-2011

“Dynamite” (Taio Cruz) – If you ask me what I remember about Welcome Week 2010, it was constantly hearing this song at every event. It was also countless awkward encounters as everyone desperately attempted friendships with their floor-mates. Some of those worked out, and some didn’t, but “Dynamite” will forever remind me of the good old first days of the college experience.

“Summer of ’69” (Bryan Adams) – Who doesn’t love this throwback? Hearing this one takes me back to the room across from my freshman RA where my side of the floor would regularly congregate to take shots of the most disgusting vodka in existence. The genius that is my boy Bryan Adams would serenade us on Fridays as we drunkenly sang along on the nights we wanted to “stay in” from the chaos of fraternity parties and avoid jungle juice. Thanks Bry, I’m forever indebted to you. 

Sophomore Year 2011- 2012 

“Saturday Night” (Jessica Mauboy), “Man I Feel Like a Woman” (Shania Twain), & “Like a G6″ (Far East Movement) – Also known as the pregame music of my fraternity party frequenting lifestyle. These songs best go with seven shots of Dragonberry Bacardi, chased with orange juice, surrounded by the most basic of your girlfriends on Thursday/Friday nights before you have to deal with the drama of the weekend bus schedule to get away from and back to your campus. 

“Sexy and I Know It” (LMFAO) – The song assigned to my pledge class when I joined my Greek organization in the fall of my sophomore year, AKA when I made the best friends of the next three years. Whenever I hear this one, I remember the feeling of finding my place at my big university.

Junior Year 2012-2013

“Don’t Stop Believing” (Journey) and “Die Young” (Ke$ha) – Junior year is when I turned 21 and could legally belt these songs in any bar. This usually was reserved for between 1 and 2 AM with a crowd of white girls who had about four LITs (at $2 each, duh) and loved life. #live Honorable mention to “You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful” (1D – obvs) which was the 1 AM song of choice in friends’ houses where  the judgment was kept to a minimum, even after a bottle of Andre. 

“Wonderwall” (Oasis) – Junior year is also the first year I participated in a dance marathon for 32 hours in an effort to raise money and awareness for a local foundation that helps kids battling cancer and other blood disorders. Around 4 AM, 17ish hours into the marathon, “Wonderwall” starts playing. Now, we were all about three years old when this song was first released but somehow all remember loving it during our preteen/early high school years. It was just the push we needed to reignite our spark for the marathon when our energy was fading fast,

Senior Year 2013-2014

“Last Week’s Alcohol” (Kerrigan-Lowermilk, performed by Matt Doyle) – Soundtrack to my mental breakdown/ final study session for physiology. I listened to this song on a loop for the entire respiratory chapter, and have no regrets. I also passed the class, so snaps for this girl.

“First Date” (Blink 182) or anything that plays on All American Rejects Pandora – In our old age, my friends and I would relive our high school days by blasting these songs at any and every pregame of senior year before passing our wisdom down to the next generation. 

“Good Riddance” (Green Day) – Just for the tears.

Whenever these songs play, memories rush back & I know that I just left behind 4 of the best years of my life. They remind me that I have a great education and even greater friends to carry into future adventures – which will, of course, feature their own soundtrack.


“carrying the world on her shoulders…gracefully”

One day during my last semester of college, my roommate and I should have been studying for an Advanced Nutrition exam on iron & folate. Around 2 o’clock that afternoon we packed up our books and headed towards Barnes & Noble, obviously stopping at Dunkin Donuts on the way to avoid the high prices at the Starbucks cafe. Anyway, after about an hour worth of studying, we got distracted and somehow started talking about astrology,  one of our fallback topics that we both love. I’m a Pisces. My birthday is March 16th, I’m great at reading body language, I’m terrified of never getting married, have go-to music for every emotional state, and I may get lost in dreamland every now and then. When “Song About a Pisces” by Jeff Caudill started playing on Kerrigan-Lowdwermilk Pandora I knew I found the title of my next post. I began to think of how people perceive me. After about one minute of reflection on first meetings I determined that people will almost always say one of two things:

1. “Where are you from?! Your accent is so unique.” Well, friends, I grew up in Central New Jersey, where I continue to live at age 22. Apparently I sound like a valley girl teleported to east coast 2014 from ’86 Cali. My Technical Writing professor wrote a comment on the back of my first assignment, which I got an A on by the way, saying “I noticed you speak with a lilt. Feel free to meet with me to prepare for your presentation at the end of the semester.” This was in September and my presentation wasn’t scheduled to happen until November so my anxiety began to skyrocket. After I googled “lilt”, I learned that it means a sing song way of speaking. Now, I didn’t think that was quite so terrible but I guess I sound unintelligent if you hear my voice instead of my words. Oops. I made the effort to control my lilt, which my prof appreciated and got an A on my presentation as well. I don’t make apologies for who I am, but I can take directions and fake my way through most things if I must.

2. “You’re so proper/delicate/dainty/graceful!” I was actually approached by a stranger on vacation asking if I was a ballerina as a child. This is great for my ego, mainly because it falls in line with my dream of one day being a real housewife and raising children who grow up at country clubs and charity galas. Anyway, this point is actually relevant because this is where the title of this post really resonates with me.I don’t like talking about myself, the good things in my life or the bad. I would rather listen to the stories that belong to other people so I can learn and grow as an individual. I also hate seeing the people I love suffering, in true Pisces fashion. I carry their problems as well as my own but most people have no idea what’s actually going on inside my daydream filled head. I fall into Netflix binges or cups of frozen yogurt and then get up the next day and face what the day throws my way, so I like to think I’m not awful at handling stress.

Pisces get a bad wrap for being flippant, emotional, and anxious. Pisces also get deeply involved in the lives of the people who surround them, are fiercely loyal, and can actually very comforting to be around because we feel emotions so strongly. Drunk people love being around me because I tend to stay calm…and play with their hair. We also like to swim like the little fish that represents us to the world, so that’s always fun. People only see what you choose to show them, so carry yourself with grace even when the going gets tough.



“But First, Let Me Take a #Selfie”

I am a millennial. I was born in 1992. I have an iPhone complete with Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook, and WordPress apps that I use on an almost hourly basis. I have taken selfies, would be literally lost without the GPS system I use to get everywhere, and don’t think I would’ve made it through college without Pandora providing a constant soundtrack to my life. I started to use hashtags in everyday life and say things like “yolo” but only in the most ironic way. Despite admitting that I can be quite the stereotype of my generation, I worked hard and graduated with a BS in nutritional science & dietetics while taking a minor in psychology. I did volunteer work, served on student council, was an executive officer for my Greek letter org, and was inducted to a human services honor society. I, however, did not match with a dietetic internship. This happens to half of the people that apply and we are encouraged to work throughout the following year and apply again, because you need to complete an internship (an unpaid, year long, ~$10,000,  full time, work experience) to become a Registered Dietitian, which is the endgame to my plan. I am not above working hard to achieve my goals. People keep suggesting that I take work at a hospital kitchen or as a diet aid. Both are jobs that need to be done and require a dedicated staff with upbeat, resilient personalities. Both jobs also require a GED as the highest necessary level of education. Now, forgive me for being “entitled”, but I would like to use the degree that took me 4 years and one hundred thousand to complete. I have a degree in clinical nutrition and can use my knowledge to help people in a way that does not involve washing dishes or carrying trays, which I have already done as an undergrad volunteer. My generation is constantly being put down for not wanting to put in the work to climb the ladder of success, for being narcissistic, lazy, entitled, and unaware of the world around us. We get awards just for participating. School violence, anxiety, depression, and eating disorders are plagues glamorized throughout the media. Our problems could be solved if we would just suck it up and do what we must to get through the day. I will not apologize for being 22 in 2014, for compulsively checking Instagram , for dealing with anxiety, or even for taking days off to binge on Orange is the New Black. But most of all, I will not apologize for looking for a job that values the degree I worked very hard to receive. Keep pushing recent grad, and don’t let the #haters get you down. Take your struggle in stride and learn from all the experiences life throws at you, but refuse to let someone call you entitled when they have no idea what work you have already completed.


Stop. Breath, Cry if you must.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m pretty basic. I love disney movies and weird coffee shops and Alex & Ani Bangles. I also cry at almost everything, most notably Disney/Pixar movies and Nicholas Sparks novels. I would apologize for my level of basic-ness but I’m not even sorry. It might be the Pisces in me but I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t crying my way through a song/book/movie that tied to a life experience of my own. Sad tears, happy tears, and angry tears define different points in my life through the lens of popular culture. The first movie I remember genuinely sobbing to was My Dog Skip. Good lord, ugly crying everywhere at about 7 years old. Since then I’ve left countless theaters looking like I just received some terrible news. Always cute. Up!, The Hunger Games/Catching Fire, Frozen, and Les Miserables are movies that first come to my mind. Books are even worse. My parents recently went on a cruise and I couldn’t think of a single light read to recommend to my mom. I really like sad books. They have so much more depth and give me more relevant quotes to write about in my blog. The book that hit me the hardest so far was The Last Song, obviously by my boy Nicholas Sparks. I had to stop and put down the library book at one point because I actually couldn’t see the words through my tear filled eyes. Embarrassing. Same goes for A Walk to Remember, the book that inspired my to name my first son Landon. So questionable. I had never heard that name before reading this book around age 13 and thought it was the most beautiful sounding name in all the land. The movie doesn’t even come close to the crying game the book possessed but the “Dare You to Move” scene between Landon and his dad always gets me. Regardless, I am compelled to watch the movie every time it ends up on ABC Family. I already wrote about my “Let it Go” experience during Frozen but that one was totally unexpected. (Let it Go, That Perfect Girl is Gone) Sad musicals are my biggest guilty pleasure. Throughout high school I was OBSESSED with Spring Awakening, oh my goodness the most angsty story ever. This is still my most listened to Pandora station and the show that sparked my love of Broadway. I remember watching the Tony’s in 2007 and having no idea what the point of the performance was so I researched, listening to the cast recording countless times, all while crying of course. Next to Normal is such a close second, but I’ve also already written about my love affair with this one too.(And You Don’t Have to be Happy at All to be Happy You’re Alive) I guess that my point is I live my life through characters. I get so absorbed into the song, book, or movie that I feel the pain in their worlds. That’s why I feel the need to write. To put a little piece of my soul out into the world so that one day, an “overemotional” kid like myself might find something they feel so connected to that they feel like they are a part of that world. And, no that’s not just a well placed Little Mermaid reference in this chapter of my basic diary. Or maybe it is.


“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you” – Maya Angelou

Today the world lost an inspiration, author and activist Dr. Maya Angelou. I elected to read and write a paper on I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings during junior year of high school in my first round of AP English and often find her words of wisdom in the Quotes section of Pinterest, including the one at the head of this post. As a child, I read everything I could get my little hands on, and dreamed of one day becoming a writer. I would play on the very old typewriter that was hidden away in a closet until I laid eyes on it. I thought it was perfect, and begged my mom to go to Office Max and try to find that strange ink ribbon required for  the artifact to work. I loved the time it took to carefully type because there was no way to effectively backspace and the effort it took to bang out each letter. Clearly, I was always kind of quirky and fascinated with the past. Maybe that’s why I still cringe when I see girls in classes taking notes on their iPads as I sit with my spiral notebook and pen. Regardless, my writing became less and less frequent as I got older and spent more and more time on academic writing. During that time I turned to reading other people’s stories and seeing my problems, and myself, on the pages I read.

As a somewhat shy person, reading has always been comforting and reassuring that whatever I was going through during adolescence was normal.Today at 22, I just finished a wonderful book called Everything I Needed to Know about Being a Girl, I Learned from Judy Blume. #accurate. I hit adolescence in the early 2000s so Judy Blume was not at the peak of her popularity by any means. However, my only sister is eight years older than me so I read all the YA books on her shelves in our shared bedroom. My absolute favorite was Just As Long As We’re Together, which I read countless times between the ages of 11 and 13. I still have that copy from the mid 90s and will always cherish it. It’s so hard for me to believe that her books were often banned from school libraries because of their “controversial” content, read: the trials and tribulations of the typical suburban adolescent. How very scandalous. Actually, it’s hard for me to believe books can be banned at all. Books are so deeply personal, both to the reader and the writer. Authors pour their souls onto paper, shaping their characters, endlessly editing, and then putting their work out into the world to be scrutinized. Talk about intimidating. Similarly, each reader appreciates different nuances in the story, relates to different characters, and highlights different quotes to feature on their blogs (okay maybe not everyone). Thankfully, throughout my life I was never told not to read anything. My parents encouraged reading and my choices were never questioned, even in the tiny Catholic schools I attended until I began college at 18. Astonishingly, almost all of my required reading books from 5th grade on were frequently banned or challenged.The Outsiders was my favorite book for many years, and I think reading that story sparked my eternal love for Robert Frost. I still can recite “Nothing Gold Can Stay” ten years later. As a teenager I would Google the list of banned and challenged books because I thought those were the ones that would contain the most thought provoking content. Time and time again, I was right. Other favorites include: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, The Giver, The Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, and A Wrinkle in Time. All challenged throughout time because of the way they may influence those who read them. Dr. Angelou’s words encourage me to keep writing. Sharing your story is terrifying, exhilarating, and most of all cathartic. Writing, now at my laptop instead of that cool old typewriter, always leaves my feeling at ease. Put your thoughts, feelings, and words out into the world. Inspire. Live.


Passive Aggressive Notes & the Eternal Roommate Struggle

Yesterday I couldn’t take it anymore. I did all the dishes in the sink last night, just like I did on Sunday night. So I did what I consider to be one of the worst things in the world in my state of anger. I left a passive aggressive note on the counter. It was totally neutral & pragmatic: “if you use my pots and pans, please wash them when you’re done, I know you’re unhappy with the state of this apartment but a clean sink can be a big improvement”. Then I said thanks and signed my name. She replied: “This is a joke…” Actually this whole situation is a joke. You started a fire by throwing my favorite scarf over a lamp, resulting in campus police knocking on the door at 3 AM and nearly killing the entire complex with the fumes of burning plastic. You consider “taking the garbage out” to mean putting the tied bags next to the door. Thanks, that’s helpful. You broke a mirror and blew a fuse in the bathroom outlet. You brought hamsters to live with us and left them here alone over spring break, so please don’t pretend to like animals when you leave these poor little things to fend for themselves in a dirty cage for a week, you’re not fooling anyone. Since the hamster situation is obviously going so well, the next logical step is to add a ferret to the mix that gets to bathe in our communal tub. I could go on for pages, but this paragraph was pretty cathartic so I’ll move on. 

The only thing keeping my here at this point is the fact that I also live with one of my best friends. She’s the only other person I know who can call out Degrassi episodes by title during the first 2 minutes of the show. Our favorites include “Shout”, “She’s Got the Look”, and “Accidents Will Happen”, just in case you were curious. She’s always down for a Netflix binge. I got into Breaking Bad and finished the series in two weeks, all while sending constant texts and snapchats about all my emotions. My day still feels empty without staring at Aaron Paul’s beautiful face for around 4 hours a day. #questionable, but she still accepts me. We always send each other the latest Buzzfeed quiz (I recently discovered that I should marry a merman, and she a pizza) or screenshots of the ridiculous status update a mutual friend posts on Facebook. We can communicate using only emojis & will never say no to frozen yogurt or chipotle. Last night we may or may not have rounded the mall food court 3 times, tasting every free sample before settling on Chinese food and then being bitterly disappointed by missing the Potatopia stand tucked away in the corner. Experiences like those are really what make me sad about leaving this mess of an apartment in two weeks. Living apart for the first time in 2 years is going to be weird, and I know I’ll be lonely when I start my next Netflix fest at 11 PM on a Wednesday. I’ll miss cramming for nutrition exams and laughing about nothing as we avoid actually studying. I have no idea where my life is headed, but I’m definitely anxious to find out. Knowing that at least one roommate situation worked out for the absolute best gives me hope for any new endeavor.


“There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind”

I have five and a half weeks left of my undergraduate career. Not that anybody is counting. Just kidding, literally EVERYBODY is counting. Counting down the days until we will have to restart our lives. New jobs, internships, and friends are waiting for some. Others will be returning to the familiar as they enter the unknown: moving back in with mom & dad to look for a job after four years of being pseudo-independent. There are so many scenarios that terrify me, and I could write for days about the things I’ll desperately miss about being a kind-of adult instead of a functional human working at least 40 hours a week. This post, however, will not dwell on what will soon be past. I will focus instead on the things I will NOT miss about being an undergrad.

1. Having a roommate who spontaneously brings a ferret into the apartment, without asking for anyone else’s opinions on the new addition. Then she proceeds to let the little creature run free. As I was sitting on my bed last night studying for a nutrition exam I heard something. Thinking I dropped a pen off my bed, I looked down only to lock eyes with the ferret. It crawled under my closed door & sat in one of my shoes. Oh, true you can just chill there.

2. Consistently having a sink full of dirty dishes gives me anxiety. I have washed all the dishes in the sink on several occasions and refuse to do it again on principle. You’re obviously not the brightest crayon in the box. I know that you set lamps on fire by hanging scarves on them, and leave burners on without a pot on top of them, but washing dishes is not that hard. 

3. Being stressed out at Christmas time because of final exams. I HATE not being able to be at home for the entire month of December to watch ABC Family/Hallmark and bake cookies. I know the real world will bring a whole different set of challenges, but not freaking our about passing my systems physiology/chemistry/advanced biochem finals will be quite the welcomed change.

4. GROUP WORK. The amount of collaborative projects I’ve had to complete as an undergrad is completely obscene. I cannot stand relying on other people for my grades. In the workforce, I hope people will care more and be able to complete the tasks they are assigned instead of complaining and bailing on meetings. I also hope to NEVER design a restaurant floor plan again. #foodserviceprobz

5. Seeing everyone post their GPAs on social media. I don’t care that you got straight A’s. That’s a wonderful accomplishment & you should be proud of yourself. Broadcasting it for likes makes you look shallow and conceited. Show mom & dad, close friends, your dog, whatever, but I don’t need a photo on insta. Thanks anyway.

Cheers to moving on to bigger and better things & never forgetting what got you this far.


“The only true wisdom is in knowing that you know nothing”

My last post was about my unique yet seemingly useless talents, so I thought it would be fun to post the things that I don’t understand in my 22 years of sage wisdom. Here we go:

Censorship laws: This week I had a lab report on the function of a frog heart, a paper on the issues of adolescent nutrition, the calculations of a diabetic diet for a case study patient, and a reaction paper on the dietary guidelines due by Thursday. Being as I refused to do any work over spring break, I had tons of work left for Monday through Wednesday. So, obviously, on Monday I started to binge watch American Horror Story on Netflix. I finished the second season yesterday and am still working on my sadness that Coven is not yet available. The plot was great in both seasons and super creepy, I loved it. But the one thing that caused much confusion was the amount of butts I saw. Who decided that butts are less offensive than other body parts?  Or less offensive than dead bodies, moderately graphic rape and murder scenes, or creepy medical experimentation on awake human subjects? I get that genitals would be “obscene” but I genuinely don’t understand why female breast would cause anymore outrage than the things I listed above. I assume it has to do with whatever censorship law is enforced by FX at 10pm. If anyone has any information on this pressing matter, please leave it in the comments below.  

Vacuums as toys: Since I was avidly avoiding doing anything school related over spring break, one thing I did was accompany my sister and her baby, my nephew & godson, to a play date. Most of the babies in the play group are a little older than my nephew and also female. After some time all the little girls were playing with toy cleaning supplies. Vacuums, mops, brooms & dustpans were all taken out as the girls pretended to clean the kitchen. Why do we teach little girls that it’s fun to clean the kitchen?! That is literally the least fun thing I can think of at the moment. Granted, when I was a little girl, I too played with pretend cleaning supplies. I also understand that mirroring adult activity is also a way to evaluate development in children. What I don’t understand is why all these toys are marketed to young girls, next to the baby dolls, printed in pink with Minnie Mouse on them. Needless to say my nephew and I will be defying gender stereotypes when I buy him a neutral colored play vacuum for his birthday. #fightthepower

Why people don’t get a large when the deal is any size for a dollar: WHY WOULD YOU NOT GET THE LARGE? I get that saving calories or not being wasteful are both important virtues. However, get the less sugary option or put the other half in your fridge for later. Iced coffee will stay delicious, trust me. Life is short, make the most out of the deal and treat yourself! Moderation is the key to enjoying all life has to offer. Also, coffee makes everything better. End of story.

There are plenty of other things that I don’t understand but I think this is a nice little list for the now. Stay humble & be well.


“I have no special talent, I am only passionately curious” – Einstein

The “special skills” section of my resume gives me anxiety. I’m knowledgeable in several different fields, but there is nothing that stands out as that one thing I am just FABULOUS at. I can think of a handful of skills that potential employers would probably not find to be quite as valuable as I do. These include but are not limited to:

1. Knowing all the words to the long version of Don McLean’s American Pie, and generally having a pretty extensive repertoire of song lyrics from the 1950s to 1970s stowed away in my head. I would always listen to the oldies station in the car with my dad when I was little, and he would tell me that this was the song that played at prom, or during Fourth of July weekend his junior year, or this one was his favorite when he was my age. It was like a little glimpse into the past, and I would daydream about going to a protest against the Vietnam War and wearing flowers in my long hair. I still have some super throwback Pandora stations to bring me back to the turbulent days I didn’t get to be a part of the first time around.

2. If you describe the plot of any episode of Degrassi: The Next Generation from seasons one through six I can tell you the title of that episode. Similar results can be had for Law and Order: Special Victims Unit and Full House. Further proof of my excellent memory for random, seemingly useless details.

3. I’m really good at painting my nails. Seriously. People always ask me where I get them done, as if I have the money to spend on a manicure. Silly girls. I also have a huge appreciation for creative nail polish names and would love to make that my career, so hook me up if you know someone at Sally Hansen. 

4. On a similar note, I can easily find the cheapest clothes at any store I walk in to. My room is littered with clearance tags. I’ve found great red dress pants at Target for $7, countless sweaters for $5 at Old Navy, and super discounted collegiate wear from my local Kohl’s. Seeing my savings, and then getting compliments on my styling choices, always makes my day.

5. I have nice handwriting, a skill that will soon be totally obsolete. I might have the mindset of a grandma, but seeing people in my class attach their iPad to a keyboard to take notes in class makes me cringe. Buying new pens and notebooks can easily be my favorite part of the school year and I love the physical act of writing. So much better than typing. 

Hopefully some day I’ll get to put this unique skill set into action, but in the mean time I’m forced to list Microsoft Office, Customer Service, and Food Safety as my “special skills”, remarkably boring as they may be. Oh well, it happens to the best of us.



“Yeah, it might be the Smirnoff…or all the Natty Light”

I’ve been compulsively watching Gossip Girl on Netflix since I entered the 21st century and signed up for my subscription earlier this month. The show premiered when I was 15, which was a few years after I had read all the books, and watching it now brings back the greatest nostalgia. It has completely confirmed that semi-adult me is as in love with Nate Archibald as 15 year old me. I also still dream of being fabulous enough to go to elaborate brunches and gallery openings and long to one day be a “real housewife” of wherever I end up as an adult, so really not much at all has changed over the past 7 years. But then again, a lot of things have changed.

Case in point: My very best friend was able to visit me a couple weeks ago. She’ll be 24 this summer and I just turned 22. I always looked up to her because she’s incredibly intelligent without ever being condescending, and I have never found someone with whom I have more in common. When she’s able to visit my college town, it tends to turn into a little reunion with other recent grads sharing stories about their real jobs/significant others/apartments/lives/etc. and we LOVE going to the nicer bars where young professionals go to grab drinks after work. Ordering delish crab dip and a $12 mixed drink suddenly seems much more fun than trying to find breathing room among the freshly 21 crowd trying to buy as many $2 LITs and beers as physically possible within the one hour the bar remains open after the three hour pregame. I also hate dancing which may or may not make me a terrible girl. Anyway, I’m not necessarily always above that life, but feeling like a grown-up is so refreshing and feels like I’m getting a glimpse into my future. It’s funny how your social scene can change so drastically in so little time. When you get to college it’s all about the frat parties and trying to keep you and your friends alive through the night as you navigate a world that you know nothing about. Then you figure out the frats you like with people you think you can trust and start to make friends there. Next up, some friends start to turn 21 and you can’t help but feel left out until that fateful night of the greatest birthday ever. To the bars every Tuesday/Thursday/Friday/Saturday! That too starts to get old after a little bit and then you can settle into what my friends like to call our “How I Met Your Mother” bar, where we can sit, eat, talk, and be twenty-something instead of being super new to the 21 club. Honestly, I’m ready to leave the college bars and move on to big kids’ table.

The title of this post is from my favorite song ever which beautifully captures the sentiment associated with the house parties and feelings that dominate the post-high school, pre-21 year old life. (Give it a listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCZkYGv-d-U)