Me, Too

Nineteen is a beautiful, sneaky, pedantric, bright, crashing, blur of an age.  Everything is fresh.  Everything is thrilling.  I'll admit I found it fun to be admitted to parties as a girl in a short, flowy Abercrombie floral skirt, dancing the night away to some terrible trashcan punch concoction.  But I always watched my cup, had a designated driver, and checked in with friends often.  Making out with strangers is fun, and it's all as much a part of the college experience as finals, papers, and learning you only thought you knew how to properly wash laundry. The clanky dorm room I shared with my roommate was transformed with old record covers, rugs, extra furniture stolen from the lobby, and posters we'd nabbed at the local record store, punctuated by fading cut out starlights of various sizes we'd draped along the edge.  We found them during October about seven or eight months earlier in a thrilling Target adventure, in which I'm sure we asked the poor...