Ah, summer.
The season of happiness, sunshine, swimming pools and tan lines. The three months of freedom from school work and all the stresses along with it. The break so beloved that even the Hollywood classic High School Musical 2 centered around this idea of a phenomenal season in our lives when we can live carefree and full of hope. Looking back on my life I have enjoyed many summers throughout the years- what seemed like a flawless freedom from elementary, middle to eventually high school. I thought there could be nothing better; that summer was the peak of this state of bliss. But that was until I started college.
College. Beautiful, wonderful, horrible, sleepless college. Sure, the work-load is probably equivalent to asking a horse to carry the White House on its back across the freakin’ Himalayas, but it is SO worth it. Here you are, thrown into a community of young and wild kids just like yourself; suddenly without parental guardians and immersed into an entirely new world of freedom and nothing can compare. We’re at the prime years when we get the taste of independence and yet we don’t have to worry about how we’re going to pay the bills this month. I was free to do as I please, make my own schedule, eat what I wanted when I wanted, choose what and whom I invested my time in; I was finally an independent human being for the first time and not a kid living in the house with Mom and Dad. But yes; the work is intense so when a break would come around I was truly grateful.
During the school year, I would visit home about once every month or so and when I did you would think it was a luxurious all inclusive resort. My parents went above and beyond anything they had ever done before- my room was always spotless, the fridge was stocked with all of my favorites and I was showered with money and Starbucks gift cards. I was spoiled by these monthly two-day home visits and thought to myself “Wow, if this is what coming home for a weekend is like, man, will this summer be INSANE.” I had more expectations than ever before.
I would sleep until 1 PM every day, lounge by the pool or binge watch Law and Order SVU for hours, dress up and go out to fancy dinners with friends, and spend my nights partying until the break of dawn.
Summer break would be the best thing to ever happen to me and my snap story.
After a brutal week of finals that truly tested my will to live, coming home sounded glorious. I had probably slept a total of 12 hours in the last week and my parents welcomed me with open arms and persisted that I stay in bed for the next two days for a full mental and physical recovery. There I was; pajamas, catered Chipotle, and Kardashian marathons on the TV. Summer was off to a great start just as I expected. But then the storm came. After my two days of total relaxation, I woke up on the third morning to a note by my bed. “Hey sweetie, hope you enjoyed your vacation- but it’s time to get back into the swing of things,” proceeded by something completely foreign to me- something I had come to believe did not even exist anymore- a list of chores. I sat in total amazement- this is impossible. A five star resort would NEVER assign their guests to chores! What kind of an outrage is this!? Had my parents forgotten who I was? Maybe they had meant to give this to my brother because this surely couldn’t be for me. I was the esteemed college kid who got to be pampered all day and taken out to movies and my favorite restaurants whenever I came home to visit.
Doing chores was a thing of the past for me. My death certificate read as follows:
- Vacuum and dust the upstairs
Excuse me, I didn’t know the freaking Obama’s were stopping by to inspect our house later. I’ll be sure to get right on that.
- Go to the store and pick up the following groceries.
Groceries? Why? You can get a value meal at Wendy’s for like five bucks.
- Pre-treat and fold all of the laundry.
No way- I still have a closet full of clothes. I think I did laundry once in a blue moon at school when I had completely run out of clean underwear.
- Clean and disinfect the bathroom upstairs.
Okay, now this is just getting ridiculous. The only time I cleaned my bathroom at school was when my RA said I had to or else I wouldn’t be cleared for move-out. It’s a BATHROOM for cryin’ out loud, like doesn’t your shampoo and stuff clean it up for you?
But that was only the beginning. In the days that followed the chores became more and more extensive; from the endless errands to the mandatory family dinners at 6 PM every night, the 1 AM curfew, the constant badgering of what I was doing or where I was going. My parents would never stop nagging me to do more work around the house and my brother kept begging me to drive him around all of the time. One dark and dreary night my mom said we would be eating in since it was time to start living back on a budget. That evening I walked into the kitchen and my jaw dropped to the floor- there sat a sliced ham, mashed potatoes and green peas. GOOD GOD SAY THIS IS JUST A DREAM. Only ONE meal option?! Where is the all-natural salad buffet? The exclusive vegan kitchen? The freshly-prepared dessert table?! No longer would I be presented with a palette of choices from my school’s dining hall- I was now forced to live this cruel and restricted life of pre-determined meal plans by my mother. Taco Tuesday was now just a fond memory of a happier time.
When the weekend finally came around, I thought for sure things would start to look up for me- back at school my friends and I were known for tearing up the dance floor at the local nightclub and that was our outlet after a long and rigorous school week. But alas, there would be no twerking it up in the clubs that Friday or Saturday night- the friends I had made during the school year were now dispersed across the country and my posse was narrowed down to a small pool of three old high school friends- all of whom had full-time jobs and no time to hangout. Even the joy of the weekend had come to a screeching halt.
The once enchanting and enlightening holiday I called summer was a nightmare. This wasn’t summer, this was some kind of sadistic communist summer camp that I did NOT sign up for. No one ever tells you just how different summer is after college. No one warns you that your parents become your parents again and actually make you do work around the house or that your best friends don’t live in your neighborhood anymore and you can’t just walk down the block to hang out with them. It’s definitely a difficult transition to go from a complete independent to living in a family unit once again and having to adjust your schedule to other people and work. The moral behind my cautionary tale would be to savor the freedom of college while you have it and to be prepared for a different kind of summer.
Be open and understanding with your family because it’s just as weird for them too. Get a job, stay as busy as you possibly can, and make some bank. Reunite with old friends and plan a weekend to meet up with your new college buds somewhere. Take a summer course, bond with your siblings and dedicate some time to get fit. Yes, summers in college can still be fun in some way or another, but High School Musical most definitely won’t write a movie about it.
