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Longhorn Confidential - Ha

Also known as: charming, confident, ambitious

Class: First-year
Major: Plan II/Pre-med
Hometown: Sugar Land, TX

Introducing...

Welcome to the odd universe of yours truly! Now, in beginning, I decided to pick a topic that immediately brings forth images of growth, friendship, adjusted hygiene, claustrophobia, and MANY epic, awkward moments. That’s right. Dorming 101.

Space (or the Lack Thereof):

In a nutshell: Your boxes? Stack. The walls? Hang EVERYTHING. The floor? Get a rug- it’s the new couch for your friends. And, if all else fails, resort to the dark vortex of space under your bed.

The Roommate:

I might be one of the few people on campus right now that can legitimately say that I actually look forward to coming back to the dorms at night because there’s a spunky best friend to hang out with all the time. Oh look, a sappy moment.

The Roommate Agreement:

Thou shalt keep thy junk in thy trunk. That is all.

The Creepy Stuff:

I was told on move-in day that the Littlefield dorms are apparently haunted. Arriving at our room, we noticed that above each door was a decorated window pane. Some had paintings of flowers, some had inspirational quotes, some even had magazine-collages. Ours? A painting of a black cloud...of death.

Oh, and those shower flip flops? Best two-dollar investment you’ll ever make. I promise.

Here's To You, McDreamy

Some people say the best part of joining an extracurricular club on campus is the social interaction between members. Others argue that it’s the intellectual fusion of students. A few would even say that the free cookies at meetings would be the highlight in the Math and Science Club for Left-Handed Atheist Salsa Dancers. For me, the best part of a club is something that represents the pure essence of personality, creativity, and awkward giggling. Ladies, and gentlemen, it has to be the T-shirt.

Every club has a unique, though often lame, T-shirt design that becomes the representative icon of the organization. This means a lot to me, partly for that metaphorical character ex-pression, but more often than not, for the twenty dollar investment that is coerced out of my pocket in order to join. Really. If I’m required to pay and wear something at every meeting, it better be giggle-worthy. Don’t even get me started on the horrifyingly dull or otherwise humiliating T-shirts I’ve had to adorn to appease club officers. By the way, I highly recommend that the hot, burn-the-retinas-from-my-eyes pink never be chosen for a T-shirt en masse ever again. End rant.