I can eagerly report that my first weeks of sophomore year are going much better than freshman year.

Last year, my earliest class was 11am, so I usually rolled out of bed around 10:40 and sprinted to class, only to complain later that the class time was too early. Now, as a seasoned vet on this lovely campus, I still roll out of bed at 10:40 for the 11am, but I am not so concerned with sprinting so much as leisurely strolling to class, since the same 4 minute walk I had last year doesn’t concern me as much.

I know where the classrooms are, and even if I don’t, saying “Damn, I am lost” and asking someone else doesn't seem as intimidating (and Google Maps with earbuds looks just as casual).

It pains me to watch the freshmen traveling in huge packs, as I have heard countless upperclassmen explain that traveling in a huge mass of bodies, usually wearing lanyards and the same blue UD drawstring bags, usually puts a big LED “NEWBIE!” sign hovering over everyone.

I am more annoyed that they take up three-quarters of the sidewalk while I am trying to make my way down the Green.

I have made friends with some of these freshmen, and they look even younger than me, which until this point, I thought was impossible.

I see the hope, nerves, and excitement I am sure my face was covered with this time last year, and for the most part, it’s satisfying to feel like I can help make the new students feel more welcome (while stealing their food from 1743 Welcome Days in the process- free food is free food).

Classes are just as exciting as last year, but now I am out of the introductory level classes that made me wonder why taking APs in high school was even necessary. I am proud of my English major and even prouder to say that I can recognize some people in my old classes and form new study groups and people to throw shady comments back and forth with in the more boring and uneventful of classes.

My room is still a dorm room, but I have traded what was lovingly called the “Hobbit Hole” and more aptly identified as the equivalent of a broom closet for a livable, breathable space I am sharing with a roommate I bond with in a building that has quirks and creaks, but feels cozy and sweet and, most importantly, has walls big enough to accommodate all of my posters without needing to put anything on the ceiling.

I would love to say that I have become an entirely new person from May to now, but I know that would is probably impossible.. I am the same quirky, weird Abbie I have always been. I am just a little bit older, probably not that much smarter, and a whole lot more comfortable with my place on this beautiful, strange, huge pond of a campus.