[For many of us, sex and college go together like Uggs and snow - you can’t have one without the other. So, we brought in one of Berkeley’s finest sex columnists, Julia, to start a dialogue about the topic (and act) that is very near and dear to our hearts. Every Thursday Julia will get your day goin’ with a little somethin’ somethin’ that’s on her mind.]

Last week I went to my university’s health center for a birth control pill issue. As soon as Dr. Nancy scurried in with her Lisa Frank name tag and orthopedic shoes, I knew that this was going to be trouble. I answered the routine questions and then braced myself for what was next; the question that every single girl dreads.

“Are you sexually active?” inquired Dr. Nancy with her beady eyes judging my contraceptive-popping self. What the hell are you supposed to say in that situation?

“Well, you see Nance, I did hook up with my ex-hook up two weeks ago but other than that it’s been quite the dry spell…” Nobody really wants to delve into their complicated lust life with a complete stranger.

This got me thinking, how does anybody really know if they are “sexually active”? To me, activity isn’t all-or-nothing; there are several levels to be aware of. Dr. Nancy, for instance, would abide by the criteria of “hyperactivity.” In other words, if you have ever touched a boy or even really thought about it, you are sexually active for the rest of your life and probably well after you’re dead. Read More »

The first week of college is summer camp. The second is back to reality. When I arrived on campus a little over a week ago, I never imagined going from name-games to essays in a blink.

My college has a week of orientation, so it never really felt like school until I walked into Geology on Tuesday morning. Before that, I had been watching movies with other freshmen, exploring—well, really getting lost in—the campus, and trying every imaginable ice cream combination at the dining halls.

From the moment I walked into my class, I realized I can’t just watch movies and eat ice cream for the next four years. Buying textbooks before the class was its own problem—really, if a book is used, shouldn’t it be dirt cheap, not just a fraction less expensive than the new version?—but being in a room filled with strangers, most not naïve first years like me, was unnerving.

In high school, the first day was one of my favorites. Sure, I hated knowing I had a year of work ahead of me, but I loved seeing old friends, catching up on summer gossip. Here, I sat down and immediately started taking notes. What part of this lecture was important enough to write down? Who was the person sitting next to me? Was I allowed to raise my hand to ask a question? Read More »