When I was in high school at Galion High School in Galion, Ohio, I spent my free time dreaming of the day I would be attending college in a big city far away. I'd sit and think about all the classes I would take because I wanted to, not because I had to. I'd write for a newspaper, which would kick off my long, illustrious career as a journalist. Visions of absolute freedom from parents danced in my head. I'd be living in the real world. No longer would I have to hide the Cap'n Crunch cereal in the back of the cupboard, behind an obviously unappealing façade of plain Cheerios, so as to avoid its swift disappearance at the hands of two little brothers.  I would buy my own groceries, and wouldn't even have stale Cheerios in the cupboard.

 There was not a doubt in my mind that I would have the coolest roommate on the planet. We would share clothes, and stay up late talking.  She would never get on my nerves; I would instead be grateful I was no longer at home.  I knew I would make loads of awesome new friends, whose presence I embraced because of our similarities and not because we lived in the same town. Men would swarm around me; it would be fantastic.

The prospect of a crazy night life in a booming college town helped to assuage the fact that I was spending my Friday nights sneaking wine coolers into the movie theater, playing with toys at Wal-Mart, toilet papering a few houses, and maybe prank calling a teacher (the known and proximate location of whose house was already covered with toilet paper, and condoms on the doorknobs, natch).

Well, I'm currently living the reality. How does it compare to the dream?

I've freed myself of the delusion that college is the real world.   Knoxville isn't exactly the big city. I am taking classes because I want to and striving for success because I am interested. There are still requirements that are occasionally a pain in my bodacious butt.  Despite this, I wouldn't trade or take back any of my college class experiences, with the exception of Math 119. There's always something new to learn and interesting people to meet.

I've been a reporter for two student-run publications, though it has become achingly clear that it's going to take a lot more to kick off an illustrious career. I am more indebted to my parents than I was when I lived under their roof because they have made a considerable investment in me that has yet to pay off (they're starting to get that three-year itch, silly parents).

Buying my groceries is great, except for the fact that I have to spend my money on them. The little brothers might not be around to eat all the good stuff, but they have been replaced by the boyfriends of roommates. There is in fact stale cereal in my cupboard.

Though I now live in a house with two brilliant, talented women, whom I happen to be quite close with, I have not always had such a satisfactory roommate situation.  Freshman year in the dorms was a personal kind of prison in a 20-square-foot cell. This was followed by a random witch of a roommate with a fat cat that shed everywhere. She didn't like me either.

I do have friends, which emphasizes my hope that I am not a failure at human communication.  The men are indeed swarming, and I am gleefully without commitment.  I'm living the crazy nightlife more literally than I had anticipated, as I am bartending three or four nights a week. It's certainly entertaining, but playing with toys in Wal-Mart and running around with war paint on my cheeks and a backpack full of toilet paper also sounds like a good time.

High school certainly wasn't as bad as I thought it was, but I would not go back. College may not be exactly what I had it all cracked up to be; it's better.