After a grueling and torturous year of starving at Cornell, all I wanted was to go home and eat my mother’s delicious cooking for an entire summer. I wanted to walk through the kitchen on a sunny afternoon and let the tantalizing aroma envelope my body and soul. My lips would begin to quiver as I bring the food closer to my mouth. My taste buds would tingle and a glistening tear would fall down my cheek as I slowly chewed, savoring every moment, every second, thanking God that I lived to experience this once more.

Some things are never quite left behind from high school: the acne, the immaturity, the insecurities, the need for social acceptance, but most importantly, the unexplainable urge to create drama. We all claim to hate it and that we’re too good for it. But, come on. Who are we kidding? We’re not in high school, but our mentality is perpetually stuck in it. We thrive on drama because it’s probably the most exciting thing that happens in Ithaca other than a frat party and maybe acing a prelim. It always starts with something small. Then through a series of he-said-she-said miscommunications, one thing leads to another until it finally explodes and turns into an episode of Gossip Girl. And I’m not going to deny it: girls do start most, if not all, of the drama and insist on adding fuel to the fire. Sometimes, for absolutely no reason. Just because, y’know, you have to tell someone if Amanda is being, like, such a bitch — gawd!

When you were a kid, what did you do during Halloween? You were probably in a cute or scary costume, telling ghost stories with a flashlight and, best of all, going from door-to-door to get free candy. There was something both frightening and magical in the night air.

Now that you’re all grown up, what do you do on Halloween? You’re probably going to dress up in a skanky or stupid costume (or not dress up at all), take too many shots and, worst of all, black out by chugging too many Keystone Lights. Well, I guess things change when you grow up, and you just have to go along with it. But the true spirit of Halloween — the imagination and the magic you experienced as a child — has vanished.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column about how Asians only hang out with each other. There was a warm and fuzzy message in the end about why we develop friendships in the first place. Plus it was a relatively light-hearted article with sprinkles of humor, mostly making fun of myself and how ridiculously stupid I can be from time to time. I thought it would be relatively easy to swallow. But then I forgot Cornell doesn’t encourage its students to have a sense of humor. I mean, laughter? What’s that? Is it defined in this textbook?

In the summer after my freshman year, I wanted nothing more than to wander around the house in my underwear and extra large t-shirt. Everyday, I’d sleep for no less than twelve hours and maybe, if I felt like it, I’d get dressed and go to a friend’s house just to sit around some more. My friends and I would then throw out suggestions on where to go, only to decide it was too hot outside and that sitting in an air conditioned room just felt right. Maybe tomorrow we’ll drive to the beach. Or next weekend. The beach wasn’t going anywhere, and we weren’t in a great hurry either.

Ah, that was the life. That was what summer vacation was all about: sitting and doing absolutely nothing until all hours of the night for three whole months.