My housemate Katy and I found ourselves sitting on our living room couch - a large ugly blue array of stained cushions. Half of it is useless: If you sit on the doomed cushions on the right hand side you'll find yourself on the floor. Although I'm sure if you looked under the useless cushions you'd find many strange ideas of filling that endless hole, like the random clothes found that no one claims, the beer tabs that are supposed to go to the Ronald McDonald house, and Cheerios. It's the typical college couch: big, ugly, half functional - something our parents gave us with pity before throwing away. As we sat there watching the Steelers game, we commented on how typical the situation was of college students: we both held our "dinners," in my bowl was noodles topped with butter spray and parmesan cheese (I don't recommend it). Katy's bowl held plain rice. No soy sauce, just plain, tasteless white rice. Our dessert? Graham crackers with peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. This is a typical college meal: cheap, bland, and leaving you wanting something else, what that could be is unclear since our cupboards are constantly empty. We struggled to find a spot on the disgusting dirty coffee table that hasn't seen a dust rag since it was in a responsible adult's house years back. We picked up our latest excuse to not do homework: knitting. It occurred to me how ironic the situation was: we lead such typical college lives yet fill our free time with activities our grandmothers do before they go to bridge club. Although this lifestyle is absurd and holds no appeal for normal adults, I can't get enough of it. I love college and all the things that make these short, precious four years so memorable. I am only a junior, but judging how fast time has gone since I stepped foot in Dorsey Hall what seems like ages ago, I'm already getting that "I don't wanna leave!" panicky feeling. After this, responsibility rudely steps into our lives whether we invited it or not. No more sleeping until noon, staying up until 4 a.m., eating greasy bagels at 3 a.m., or waiting a month to do laundry. Never again will we be at this stage in our lives where we're on our own, but not really. Where our biggest responsibilities are classes - something we've all mastered as a task that must be done but should take up as little time as possible. We have other things to do. Like go to Wal-Mart to buy clear tubing and a funnel to aid in that night's activities. Or drive 45 minutes to the nearest mall. Or meet a friend for a walk, for lunch, for late night bagels at Bagel & Deli (as you can tell, this is by far my favorite part of Oxford), and to watch Napoleon Dynamite, over, and over, and over again. Never again will we live in a town with beer so cheap, or special so entertaining, like country night at Stadium on Sundays, karaoke at First Run on Mondays (although I've not seen this crazy array of drunk students singing in years due to producing this lovely publication). Tuesdays we attend Stadium again for 75 cent beers. Wednesdays the beer is so cheap you're insane not to take advantage of such a bargain: 25 cent beers at Lottie Moons and $1 at Skippers. If this is how I feel now, I can't imagine what will be running through my head next year as I eat my bowl of cereal/noodles/rice on the same ugly blue couch - maybe by then the left hand side will be filled up enough with the miscellaneous items college houses mysteriously collect to allow more friends to join me.







