Dear Diary,

My parents read my first entries and said I need "a more positive outlook on life." And I got scared. I only have four months here, and I have to get the most out of it. What if I'm wasting my time? What if I'm not enjoying myself enough?

And that's why, last Thursday night, I put on my nicest shirt and headed to a party. But I wish it was as simple as that.

At this college, the party scene is pretty much nonexistent. Instead of big ragers here they have private gatherings; reliable sources suggest that they've been ranked nation's biggest dinner party school. There are surveys and everything. So even though I don't know much about other schools' dinner parties, I know getting invited to a party here can be quite a challenge.

First, I had to make sure all of my friends were free that Thursday evening because there was no way I was going to a party alone. Out of my five-person friend group, only one refused to join me, which I consider a big success.

Then I started asking questions. You don't want to be too obvious because people might think you're desperate; you can't be too vague, or you'll end up knowing about a party but not being invited.

One of my recent acquaintances did tell me about a party happening in a tiny town just outside campus, and invited me, so my friends and I decided it's worth checking out. At 11 p.m. we piled onto the bus filled with students, all of us desperate for some fun. See, that should've made us worried, this tremendous amount of people; but we weren't really in our best decision-making condition by then.

We followed the crowd down the street of the empty, quiet, dead-ish town. We could hear the music, feeling more excited with each step. Finally, we were going out. We were doing things. Living our life to the fullest.

And then we realized that we don't know exactly what we were supposed to do with ourselves there. Some people were dancing; but dancing here is not the same as back home. I felt like I was not nearly drunk enough for that level of weirdness.

Slowly — in five minutes or so — we started feeling more comfortable. We were kind of getting the vibe. Yes, we were about to start having fun, I felt.

The music was strange and loud. The people were drunk and loud.

In a town like this one, those things don’t really fit in.

Right when I was trying to introduce myself to a cute guy who was wearing the same jacket as me, the police came, flashing lights and everything. We ran away, not sure if this was enough of a crime to get us deported. None of us wanted to risk it; after all, we only get our four months.

So after roughly ten minutes of partying my friends and I found ourselves stuck in a ghost town in the middle of nowhere, cold and angry and without any means to get home sooner than in an hour.

Since then, we make our own gatherings, contributing to our college’s dinner party glory. What can I say? This school is good for a lot of things. Partying just isn’t one of them.