Every week from my spot in the library, I watch as clusters of future students and their parents wander across the glossy tile floor. The group stares up in astonishment at the glass ceiling of Thompson Library, led by a student tour guide walking backwards with rehearsed ease. I listen to the predictable highlights I hear the guide cover each week, praising the convenience of reservable study rooms or explaining how the meal plan works.

Tour groups are probably the highlight of my procrastination-fueled people watching. I see myself in the faces of those high school juniors and seniors, expressing everything from indifference to wonder to anxiety as they shop for their new home. The possibilities of those kids’ lives fascinate me. I want to know what they will choose to do with their time here, and who they’ll become along the way. I even wonder if anyone in the library on my 2013 tour pondered about me.

There is so much information to take in on those tours. They’re jam packed with useful statistics, tips and services the school has to offer. But if I could take my high school self on a walk through campus, I’d probably point out some different things.

I’d show her the house on Frambes Avenue where she’d meet her best friend at a meeting the first week of classes, encouraging her to be on time. A few blocks over on the fraternity block, I’d show her where she’d dance to Outkast and Kanye and Justin Bieber, ironically meeting more girls than guys thanks to a carefully monitored ratio.

I’d show her the architecture library, where it’s so shockingly quiet that you can actually confront yourself and get some work done for once. I’d also be sure to point out the math tutoring center in an effort to prevent that first disastrous pre-calculus midterm.

At Catfish Biff’s, I’d buy her a slice of pizza, warning her in a half-serious, half-joking way that it’s highly unlikely she’d ever be back in that place in the daylight again. I’d show her the concert hall on High Street, where she’d see shows, losing her voice and jumping with the crowd until the floor felt like it had a heartbeat.

I’d take her to her future apartment, where she’d spend endless hours hanging out in the living room with her five roommates, laughing and crying and fixing each other’s problems together.

At the gym, I’d tell her to spend time there to feel healthy, not as a self-loathing routine for gaining a few pounds. I’d show her the best spots to set up her hammock on the Oval, reminding her how important it is to take a few moments and enjoy being outside when stress sets in.

Two years from now, this campus could look completely different to me again with all of the new things I learned and experienced on it. Just like the wide-eyed high school students who wonder what’s next for them, I still feel curious and excited about the future, both on this campus and off. I may not have a tour guide who can tell me exactly what's coming next, but honestly, the things I've loved most about college so far were often the things I never saw coming.