College life is great. Where else are sweatpants acceptable attire…anywhere? Where else can you crack a beer at 11 am and instead of being criticized, you’ll most likely be asked to pass one down. Come home at 3 am on a Tuesday and need pizza? You got it. Feel like blowing off class to go to the pool? No prob.

So it’s understandable why the anticipation of a trip home for the weekend (like this coming holiday weekend) can inspire a little anxiety, but once you cross the threshold of Home Sweet Home, you’ll remember just why it’s so sweet.

1. Home cookin’.
After a daily diet of fast food, dining hall “cuisine” and failed attempts at domesticity (and a pasta based backup plan) it is amazing to come home to fresh and delicious food. You want your childhood favorite? Mom and Dad will happily oblige. For one glorious weekend you get to come home to a hot meal every night, no stress required. And in those situations when someone just doesn’t feel like cooking, bring on the restaurants. When the closest thing to a gourmet meal you can afford is Olive Garden, nosh that’s a little more your parents’ taste leaves you feeling like you ate dinner at Buckingham Palace.

2. Retail Affection.
The initial bone crushing hugs and sporadic wistful looks followed by hugs that you’ll get all weekend are nothing compared to what you’ll score if you can get Mom to the mall. Her poor baby has been living in poverty at school as far as she’s concerned (and for the most part she’d be pretty accurate), so she’s more than willing to splurge on necessities like warm winter clothes (yes, everyone at school has 7 different coats, obv.), “comfortable” shoes for walking around campus (easily expandable into high heel territory) and any other array of daily wear that you have no access to at school. After all, Mom and Dad can’t expect you to shop at the bookstore for University brand gear every time you need a new outfit. And don’t forget the back to school care package you’ll probably get as you’re packing up. Take advantage and stock up on toiletries, hard to find makeup, laundry detergent, and any groceries you can bring back with you. Read More »

This was a week for decisions. Major decisions. And boy, did we make them. We elected Barack Obama as the 44^th (and first African-American) President of the United States. And though we didn’t directly choose Michelle Obama (or any of the First Ladies), we did decide who’s hot and who’s not.  We chose between working out at the gym and at home, between babes and nerds, between trendy skirts and patterned leggings. On the relationship side of things, we decided to make the jump from friends to lovers, and subsequently from lovers back to friends. We learned that guys get off on porn (really?), and girls become more fertile by watching Sex and the City. We decided that you shouldn’t spend too much money on dating, and on the proper prep work for losing your v-card.

And now that it’s Friday, take a break from all the deliberations and enjoy the weekend!

I was home for Fall Break for four days, and I realized that maybe adapting to college was easier than I expected. When I entered my house Friday night, I didn’t see a place where I had numerous study sessions, birthday parties and mental health days. I saw a place to do laundry for free, watch some mindless television and sleep for awhile.

Sure, it was nice to be home. But I kept feeling like I had to go back to school, like this was more of a temporary sleepover than a homecoming. While the weekend kept me busy from noticing that my house was not exactly home, it also uncovered a new strangeness which college created—meeting up with high school friends.

Most of my high school friends, all of whom I have known for years, go to college within two hours of my hometown. So when a few of us come home for the weekend, we all come home for the weekend. And while I loved being around people who never need an explanation for my random songs or not-funny jokes, it was also startling to see how just a few months have changed us.

I left my friends for the entire summer, and I noticed little change when I came back. But now my friends are not just sitting around their houses or working at the local Dunkin’ Donuts; they’re making friends, testing their boundaries and (some of them) are becoming people who I never would have talked to in high school. When it’s just the few of us watching a movie or walking around town, I can’t entirely ignore the college sweatshirts, new belly-button rings and anecdotes starring new best friends. I can’t pretend that this is last June, when we all just graduated and were ready for something new. Read More »

We are getting so close to the finish line, I can feel it! (And it feels great, considering how crap-tastic this season has been). There are only 4 designers and the big Bryant Park runway show left! Oh wait.

Just kidding.

There is also a wedding gown. And…wait for it…a bridesmaid dress, too! Hahahaha, suckers. You thought all those challenges were done and you were free, but those crazy cats at Bravo had to put you through the ringer one last time.

But I am getting ahead of myself. How can I not talk about Tim’s home visits?! He watches Korto drum in Arkansas, takes a bike ride with Leanne in Portland (and wears a helmet, which pretty much makes up for the entire season), does nothing with Kenley cuz she has no friends or family, and hangs out with the Jerrel crew. It was all very exciting and touching and blah, blah, blah. Read More »

I am the biggest. idiot. ever. Why? Because I will be spending one dreaded semester at home. That’s right, I gave up my freedom so that I could come home to spend a little extra time with the ‘rents. No, I’m not one of those people who can’t bear to spend time away from my parents, I just made a couple of mistakes…well, let’s call them choices…

Rewind to the end of senior year when a certain girl was debating between College A and College B. College A is the largest school in North Carolina, is very serious about their sports program (which means tons of fans to party with, plus I love college football) and just happens to be an hour from my boyfriend. College B is a smaller but well-known school located right in the middle of a booming city not to far from my home in Virginia that also happens to house an insane Arts/Fashion program.

Of course, naive senior Amber picked College A so she could get a degree in Fashion but still tailgate, party like crazy and spend time with her beau.

One cringe-worthy break up, one failed class, dozens of racial/socioeconomic clashes and too many drunken nights later I decided that it was time to transfer. My decision was a good one, but was made too late; by the time I submitted my application to another school (College C, I guess), it was impossible to receive housing and a decent financial aid package. Then I remembered good ol’ College B with the awesome Fashion program and decided going there was worth spending one semester at a sh*tty community college while having to obey Mom and Pop’s rules.

Some of you may have decided (or been forced) to stay at home too, or maybe I’m just hoping I’m not the only one that gets upset when I see those back to school commercials with all the cute dorm furniture and kids running through campus. Either way, there are pros and cons to movin’ back in with the rents and I know all about them: Read More »

Ok, relax, just breathe. You’ll be back at school in…30 days.

This mantra grows increasingly ineffective the longer I am forced to live under the same roof as my mother. If you are lucky enough to have left behind your home home for your school home, then God bless you, throw a kegger in your living room (on a motha effing TUESDAY!) If you, like me, have yet to escape your personal circle of hell, I’ve compiled a small guide to maintaining your sanity as well as familial relations for the remainder of this short (but dear Allah, oh so long) stint back home. Because, let’s face it, being disowned would be counterproductive if your parents still pay the majority of your tuition/rent/medical bills and whatnot.

Scenario: You come home from a bar crawl, unhappy matriarch/patriarch up and awaiting your return, toe tapping a Morse code slew of disapproving comments.
Solution: Passive Aggression. Outwardly, bow your head and accept the berating and “Not under my roof” nonsense. Avoid eye contact, showcasing your humility and apologetic demeanor, all the while making easier your inner thought process: “Haha! You are merely projecting your jealousy onto me because you can’t go out till 3 am! At school, this is an early night! Mwahaha!” Read More »

There comes an age when you realize the difference between homesick and home, sick.

Homesickness happens after moving out of state. You miss the backyard you grew up in, your family and friends, whatever it may be that just isn’t the same in your new digs. Home, sick happens when you’re too hungover to function or you’re legitimately ill, sometimes even ill due to the hangover. Most importantly, home, sick, as an adult, is when you realize how great it was when your parents were there to take care of you. Home, sick leads to homesick.

Maybe it was because I have no siblings, but my parents upped the love when I had what my father referred to as “the punies,” always pronounced with an exaggerated pout and a pat on the head, whether I was six or sixteen. He’d then quickly step away and make an x with his index fingers. “Love you, but I don’t want it,” he said, shaking his head sadly. Read More »

Days as a Freshman: 125
Mood: Rested. Finally.

“What are you planning on doing today?”

My mom flitted around me, putting silk napkins down at the empty place settings and touching the pine branch centerpiece. She was anxious. I can always tell when my mom is anxious because she hovers, does everything twice, and buzzes around a space without sitting down for hours.

Her parents were coming up, driving all day from Pennsylvania. They had been driving all day yesterday too. Their long journey meant that as soon as they got here, my grandparents would drive my mom insane. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice people. They were very nice; they just had a habit of making everyone feel like they should be praised for the sacrifices they made for their child. A lot.

“I’m not sure what I’m gonna do. Probably nothing.” I took a bite of cereal and watched my mom touch the tablecloth for the seventh time. It was only 9:30 in the morning, and she was already up and showered and in full hostess mode. I was still in my pajamas. I had been in my pajamas for the last day and a half. It was great.

“You should really get up and get out.” She frowned at an invisible stain on one of the napkins. “Being inside all this time isn’t good for you.”

“Mom. I just got home.”

“So? Vacation doesn’t mean you hibernate for weeks. Sometimes you can be quite lazy, Miss.” Read More »