Author: Kayden Anderson Page 3 of 4

This past weekend, I had my first OU/TX weekend experience. It should be noted that I am not an avid football fan. Aside from the fact that I went to a high school known for its football team, I know very little about the sport. I understand “touchdown” and “Go Wolverines,” but that’s about it.

Although a win would not define my weekend, I was excited to understand the rivalry better. My three friends and I left early Friday morning to beat the traffic. We had high hopes for the Sooners but anxiously awaited arrival at a Dallas mall. Accordingly, we spent the day shopping and then went to dinner that night. The weekend was going fantastic, and I had the purchases to prove it. Unfortunately, the joy was short-lived.

First of all, we overslept. No, none of us heard the ten alarms we had set. Aubrey woke up first, panicking. Not to mention, it was as if we all rose from the dead. We ran around, grabbing makeup bags and flashes of crimson and cream. Thankfully, we made it to the game with time to spare.

As previously mentioned, I ignore the game on a good day. Unfortunately, the lack of scoring did not help that fateful Saturday morning. I may or may not have napped amidst the yells, frustration, and utter dismay.
We exited the stadium after half-time, and I continued my slumber in the hotel room. Later, my friends and I laughed about the day’s whirlwind. The Sooners may have lost, but we still had each other and the memories we had made. In my dreams, the Sooners won anyway.

I have a problem with overworking myself. In fact, a part of me genuinely believes that I can take on everything and do so perfectly. I would rather die trying than give up. On the one hand, this trait is not always bad. It assisted my 4.0 and leadership positions in high school, which never disappointed me until last week.

Since mid-September, I had been continuously exhausted. No matter how much I slept at night, I would wake up as I had never rested. Fortunately, I knew my body felt off, and I was persistent. I finally visited the doctor last week and discovered the root of the problem. I was stressed, and it was beginning to affect not just my mind but also my body. As a result, I decided that it was time to prioritize my mental health.

I cut out most of my schedule’s events. I went to class, did school work, and spent time recharging with my family and friends. When I was hungry, I ate. When I was tired, I slept. These tasks may sound like the bare minimum, but for me, they were monumental. Gradually, I felt like myself again–a better version. These weary weeks taught me that although academic success is essential, it is not more vital than my health. After I graduate college, I want to remember memories with my best friends, not quiz grades. In the end, your body knows precisely what you need. You just have to quiet your mind and listen.

Each sorority has a process called “Big/Little.” This instance is where a freshman and a sophomore mutually agree for the freshman to join the sophomore’s “family.” So, the freshman will be the “Little,” the sophomore will be the “Big,” the junior will be the “G-Big,” and the senior will be the “GG-Big.” They help the Little assert herself in their sorority and are always there for each other to lean on.

As I have mentioned before, I am in a sorority-Pi Beta Phi. This past Sunday, we had our Big/Little celebration. We went to the house supposedly for a group picture, but we were let in on the excitement shortly after that. First, we walked through the hallway and found a poster with our name, directing us to a room number. This clue was our Big’s bedroom, where she had laid out pajamas and goodies. Quickly, I changed into my navy blue pajamas and sprinted downstairs to find my Big.

Each Big hides in a uniquely decorated cardboard box, shouting for the Little’s attention. Finally, I spotted “Kayden.” I lifted the box and unveiled my Big’s identity as my G-Big and GG-Big videoed. Liz smiled at me, and I was ecstatic as I waved and hugged her.

I met Liz the first week after Bid Day, and she has greatly influenced my college experience. She has given me advice, looked out for me, and been a genuine friend–just like a true Big should. For this reason and so many others, I am forever thankful she was hiding in that cardboard box.

As a little girl, I idolized being a teenager. I would start high school at 15, pass my driver’s test at 16, get my first boyfriend at 17, graduate, and begin college at 18. Clearly, I had plans, and my dream world was waiting. The only thing I needed was to be a teen.

On my thirteenth birthday, I was thrilled. It was a Sunday, so I attended a church that morning. It was as if I had woken up vastly more mature. I had gone to bed as a child and rose as a young woman. For this purpose, I wore an orange flowy shirt, ripped jeans, and heels. I was on fire, and no one could douse my flames.

My precious scheme worked seamlessly. I started high school at 15, passed my driver’s test at 16, got my first boyfriend at 17, and graduated and began college at 18. Unfortunately, my divine design was less organized than I once thought. In fact, I turned 19, and I had zero ideas for my yearly milestone.

It was a Sunday, so I attended a church that morning. I wore a white shirt and orange flowy jeans. I was not more mature. I was not ready to be mature. Adulthood was near and daunting, but as I was eating a celebratory brunch, I looked around. My two new best friends were sitting across from me laughing, and the boy I’ve dated since I was 17 was smiling.

I rested in that moment. The sun shone through the windows, and the waitress placed my cinnamon roll french toast before me. Aubrey and Karsyn’s giggles rang in my ears, and I could feel it in my bones. Burning, searing, daring me to be happy. “I could live my year like this,” I thought, “I could live my whole life like this.” And I smiled.

1. Your first weekend home will not be what you expect.

I moved into my dorm on August 10th, and I did not return home until the 25th. I was ecstatic to see my family, boyfriend, and cats, but I was shocked when the day finally came. To be more specific, I was packing a bag to go home. It was like I was having a sleepover at the house I had lived in my entire life. Not only that, but I would wake up in a panic in the middle of the night. I had already grown unfamiliar with those coral-colored walls and blue bedding, and it deeply saddened me. My heart is in two places, and I am okay with that.

2. Learn to balance fun and school work.

Learning to balance school work and social life is necessary. I must remind myself to close my laptop, put my pencil down, and have fun. On the other hand, some college students have to set aside time to be productive. Either way, there has to be equal opportunity for success.

3. You will find your lifelong friends.

Coming from a small town, I had limited options for friends. I struggled to form connections in high school and hoped that college would be different. Fortunately, I was right. My roommate and I met through mutual contacts, but we had only been around each other twice before moving in. Shortly after, I realized I had discovered true friendship. Likewise, we met the girl across the hall from us. Our duo became an inseparable trio. They will be my bridesmaids, future children’s aunts, and best friends forever.

4. Everyone is in the same boat.

You may feel as if you are alone in your homesickness or uncertainty. I promise you that you are not. Everyone is navigating more challenging classes, different people, and a new environment. Find community with each other, and know that it will get easier. After all, your life is about to begin.

The same woman polished my nails for the past two years. Since I now live two and a half hours away from her shop, it was time for a change. More specifically, I needed a new location that could fulfill my articulate ideas and creative designs. I tested the waters shortly after that. Contrary to popular belief, I did not request for French tips or intricate details. Rather, I selected a simple color, red.

This choice may seem obvious. After all, it is football season, an OU holiday in itself. Likewise, red is the perfect transition color from summer to fall. While I am not opposed to these statements, they were not floating in my original thought process. Instead, I was drawn to this scarlet hue with unexpected logic.

When I was a little girl, my mother consistently had a fresh manicure. Coral was her choice in the spring and summer, while a cherry tint called her name in the fall and winter. The latter shade correlates with her character: my comforter scratching my back, my protector holding my hand as I fell asleep, my role model of fierce femininity. She would fight for me even if it meant breaking her acrylics, and her devotion has formed my morals.

Moving away from my mom has not been an unchallenging feat. I had never gone longer than a day without her before college. However, the knotted connection with our mothers never comes undone, and it is a bond almost impossible to fracture. She carried me then, and she still does 155 miles away. Ultimately, she is why I brush my hair before greeting anyone in the morning and why I would rather be late than leave my house without jewelry. My mother is the reason I have red nails. They make me feel at home.