Though I had felt choked, smothered and appeared to have been left for dead by the “hands of excitement” in the days prior to my departure, upon arriving here last week, I’d have to say that it was definitely worth the wait. While the picture on my WildCARD is terrible, my projected class schedule is so tight that it will be sure to test my physical capabilities, and my run in with a dinner of “mystery meat” has increased my weariness of dining hall food, I am still incredibly excited to be getting ready to become an NU student.

Maybe it’s because all the unfortunate coincidences, oversights and instances of plain bad luck were overshadowed by experiences such as my first college football game, a cross country team challenge in downtown Chicago and a relaxing afternoon reading at the Lakefill.

So, I’m sure all of my fellow freshmen reading this are just as excited as I was to arrive here, meet people, and start this new chapter in their lives. But rest easy until then: enjoy your family, friends, and the comfort of your home and/or community. Sept. 16 will be here soon enough.

Yes, to be a freshman again. Thankfully though, this time around it’s not the people around me who are working to solidify my freshman status, but rather my serious disorientation and disengaged senses. Needless to say, all of this did not discourage me from exploring the greater Evanston vicinity this past weekend.

Starting out on an ambitious mission to find the Kinkos and the CVS (both easier said than done for a first-time freshman) via bicycle, I ended up on an interesting albeit completely disoriented afternoon adventure. Having biked only on trails and neighborhood roads up to this point, the streets of Evanston were a bit of a surprise. Simply put, where I come from, we value our lives. Unfortunately, this is not the case here, as it is illegal to bike on the sidewalks in the downtown area. So, regardless of whatever risk I was to put myself at, I decided to do as the Evanstonians do and risk my very livelihood for the sake of the law by riding in the streets.

Persevering as best I could, I eventually threw in the towel and found a place to lock up my bike, taking to the streets on my own two feet. Traveling much less dangerously, I found the CVS well enough and since it was still early, I decided to walk around downtown and get my bearings. Though I have yet to figure out Evanston’s layout, I did stumble upon an Armenian festival (not so interesting) and a kind of cool (kind of creepy) bookstore, The Bookman’s Alley. I do plan to go back, because according to the owner, Garrison Keillor spent some time there working on something, so maybe if I hang out there long enough I will see a famous literary icon too (or turn into an Emily Dickinson-like shut-in with Virginia Woolf’s capacity for fun….).

From there I headed to Evanston’s public library where I tried to get a library card (you never know, right?). However, since I have no proof that I am (or soon to be) a student at Northwestern and my freshman-like pleas apparently did not have the librarian convinced, I must return once I have my WildCARD and some kind of proof of residency in Evanston (at NU).

Following this, I headed back north, weaving in and out of South Campus, completely lost, slightly confused, and finally “humbled” into asking for directions — this was not the first time that day, and with my luck will not be the last this week either. But regardless of what road my sense of direction leads me down, I would have to say that my first adventure into Evanston was a good one, although next time I will be sure to bring a map along with me.

As for me, in the tenth grade I didn’t have a definite idea of what I wanted to study — at that point “journalist” was but one of many possibilities, and I certainly hadn’t begun my list of prospective colleges, let alone zero in on one specifically. Not that there is a problem with such early aspiration (in fact, a great portion of my intimidation at his response was characterized by an unfortified respect for his ambition). So although at that point I knew very little about what Northwestern had to offer, I hardly considered it a viable option for my future.

Thankfully, I proved myself wrong. Through the course of two years of hard work and a few truly inspiring high school teachers later, the personally deemed unreachable became a precise and determined goal, which has now been transformed into an awesome reality. So, with my bags unpacked (I’m here! Such a perk of being a student athlete), finances arranged, and a summer’s worth of hard work filling my wallet, I’m finally prepared to embark upon a journey which at one point I didn’t even think I belonged.

And as I sit here at my new desk with all my new teammates, I’m beginning to realize the gravity of the accomplishment that we all have made. “Northwestern University” is no longer just the answer to the question “Where are you going to school?” Rather, it will slowly become who I run cross country for, where I study journalism, involve myself in various activities, meet people, make friends, explore new ideas… and the list goes on and on, I think. So, with every new ivy-covered building I explore, “Northwestern University” becomes less of a dream and, slowly, more a part of my life: where I will become the person that shy sophomore didn’t realize she could be.

Granted, my roommate seems nice and I’m content with the dorm we’re in, but for me, none of this was really a surprise. Being a student athlete, I was notified of my roommate while high school was still in session and was told which dorms to request and in which order I should do so. Not that I minded — it definitely was convenient.

Nonetheless, for some of you, this was a much more excitedly awaited event, as was displayed countless times on the Northwestern 2012 Facebook group. With no set date for the assignment’s arrival, incoming freshmen shared their anxieties, at times obsessively, in one of the group’s lengthier discussion posts. But following the intense anticipation — for some at least — the assignment’s final arrival was met with disappointment when the unfortunate realization hit that not everyone could live in the dorms in which we freshmen have been led to believe NU’s social circle is rooted.

Which brings me to the point of this post: while it would be nice to live in the ideal dorm, fit socially and geographically to our specific needs, it would defeat what I have believe is the purpose of college. Part of our experience will be making the adaptations: piling on extra layers and leaving earlier for the longer walk to classes, or dealing with the social life of a smaller (or larger) dorm than desired.

Sure, I understand how many of you feel — after all, having had such a long wait for these assignments, I had begun to imagine what my college experience might be like and naturally centered it around a “life” in Elder (my first “choice”). But as it turns out, my real dorm looks to be quite different than Elder, thus changing my perspective on what this upcoming year may have to offer but leaving me just as excited and eager to see what I am in for this year.

I admit, it’s hard not to imagine oneself living in a buzzing dorm with a dining hall downstairs, in close proximity to all of the campus activities which we will attend with our entire, newly best-befriended dorm floor; after all, it’s what the media tells us that college should be like, and for many of us that has been our only exposure to the experience thus far. But, as was seen in the recent dissemination of our housing assignments, this might not be the case, as many students have complained to the administration or fellow classmates that they were not placed in any of the residences in their top 5.

So, it seems that the challenges that we expected from Northwestern are arriving sooner than expected and in a form other than midterms, papers and whatever else they assign you in college. Frankly, though, this may break many of us “unlucky” ones into the idea that we won’t have as much control over our security as we did in high school. Inevitably we are slowly entering the “real world”, and obviously things will be different. So unless you have the time and/or energy to do battle with the housing department and can handle the anxious anticipation of another period of endless waiting to find out your new residence, I (bluntly) recommend sucking it up and joining me in looking forward to what will still be an exciting freshman year.

That said, let’s take a chance with our housing situations; whether we’re in the “wild and crazy” dorm or the “socially inept” one, let’s work with what we have, and not try to let ourselves get distracted in creating the perfect college mold for our first year. If the upperclassmen speak with any truth, the different sides of Northwestern that we each want to see will reveal themselves to us and (no matter how displeased we are right now) chances are we will be pleasantly surprised.

The average packed suitcase weighs 57.86 pounds — approximately 10 pounds less than the combined weight of your excitement and nerves for freshman year at Northwestern, right? We know the pain of running down NU’s recommended packing list while mom stains it with her premature tears and dad tries to figure out how you can buy everything for less than $25 (answer: yes, Dad, I do need both my kidneys.).

To make things a little easier for you, we at North By Northwestern surveyed more than 400 current NU students and found out what you really need for freshman year (and what you really don’t). Respondents from more than 18 freshman dorms weighed in on Northwestern’s recommended packing list and the list of banned items, then gave their opinion on everything from where they shop for dorm stuff to why you should pack a cowboy hat.

An added bonus: check out our editors’ picks, freshman blogger’s picks and Target Insider picks (80 percent of NU students said they shopped at Target when they got to Evanston), and our Q&A with the class of 2012. Just scroll over the images at the top of each page to navigate.

Photos by Tracy Fuad. Flash production by Lisa Gartner. Reporting by Sam Allard, Jenny An, Hallie Busta, Tracy Fuad, Lisa Gartner, Staci Gold, Lara Kattan, Spencer Kornhaber, Vi-An Nguyen, Dagny Salas, Lizzie Schiffman, Kate Sheridan, Karen Werling and Jamie Wiebe.

Up until this point, I had only heard the word used as a term of endearment (not in any regard to me, thankfully), and really couldn’t equate it to Charles Darwin, however hot an item he was in his heyday. Out came the dictionary with its definition: “a bug bear.” Seeing as that had achieved nothing, downstairs I went, coming back up to my room with a much better understanding of Quammen’s sentiments. It turns out that a bugaboo can be many things: a baby stroller brand, or my favorite, “an imaginary monster used to frighten children,” or the more probable, “something that causes fear or worry; bugbear; bogy.”

Having established that, I continued reading, decidedly ignorant of the meanings of the rest of the “big words” included in the text that were never on my spelling list in elementary school.

But through my reading (25 pages worth, so far) the passage that made me scramble for my dictionary had stuck with me: “Both as hero and as bugaboo…” (page 11), a statement which mirrors my own introductions to Darwin. And while this whole topic brings me back to my ninth grade science teacher with pens in her hair and husband in France, dead set on drilling evolution into our little heads, it also opens a new scope of intellectual stimulation.

While I’ve never been one to jump up and down at the mention of anything scientific, I am actually excited to read this book and frankly, am looking forward to getting involved in all the hustle and bustle that is surrounding it. Sure, to some people Darwin is a “hero”, and to others, a “bugaboo,” but, there’s where I see the fun in this whole project. Call me a nerd (believe me, you won’t be the first), but I’m the type of person who looks forward to this type of thing; maybe it’s because I’m really competitive, undeniably stubborn, and a little proud, maybe it’s for the thrill of the chase, after all, I’m one for a challenge.

But even more, this assignment looks like it will go further than Darwin’s theories, teaching us about interacting in an intellectual community. Serving perhaps as a microcosm for what I would like to believe would be our entire college experience, I hope to be fully engage myself in this project. Though I have been forewarned by some upperclassmen that it’s not worth the time and effort, I’d rather find out for myself than let such a valuable opportunity pass by.

Nonetheless, by Facebook’s standards, we were “friends.” Though we never wrote on each other’s walls, sent messages back and forth or traded bumper stickers, she could still view my pictures, see where I had gone to school, read about my hobbies, and discover the many other aspects of my personal life that, just like her, I had reserved strictly for the eyes of my “friends”.

Not that this newfound vulnerability really bothered me. In all actuality, I don’t think I was truly aware of how potentially detrimental it was. After all, I had accepted such requests from many of my future classmates, so there was really no new risk associated with friending Phaiye. It wasn’t until Caitlyn Van Orden stepped into the picture, and it was determined that the pictures in Blaount’s account belonged to her, that I became aware of how harmful this behavior could become.

As an incoming freshman at Kennesaw State University, Caitlyn’s Facebook victimization was not the first time that she had encountered opposition. With many at odds with her view on the First Ammendment rights granted to public schools in her state, Caitlyn suspects that “Phaiye,” or the person behind her, is a fellow southerner aimed at revenge. This past fall, with the media pointing their cameras in her direction, Caitlyn had held rallies, circulated petitions and started a Facebook group in an effort to rectify the situation dividing her community.

But as her internet popularity increased, she let her guard down and accepted stranger’s friend requests. So when she first saw that her pictures were being displayed in a total stranger’s Facebook account she was caught off guard. “When I saw my own picture, my heart started pounding… I felt completely out of control of what happened to my image, which I was,” she said.

After talking with her about the situation, it seemed to me that while Caitlyn had come to terms with Facebook, she had acquired a new set of rules in regards to using it as a daily communicative tool, urging her peers to follow her example.

“I recommend that people go through their privacy settings and make sure that everything is set to ‘friends only,’” she said. “Also, go through your friends list and delete anyone who seems sketchy, and give a little more thought before accepting people as friends.”

But are all these precautions worth losing the opportunity to develop connections with future classmates before arriving on campus? We all have a lot on our minds this summer, and for me, having friends to hang out with — or at the very least, someone to eat dinner with — is becoming a growing concern, especially as Welcome Week draws nearer.

However, upon hearing Caitlyn Van Orden’s story, I’ve come to realize the risk of putting myself out there. Fortunately, there’s a difference between randomly friending someone you’ve never spoken to, and friending something that you’ve actually had a conversation with. Though it would serve as comfort to know that I won’t be walking to classes by myself or dining alone, the connections that I’m searching for — that we’re all searching for — can’t be finalized until September anyways.

And besides, anticipation never killed anyone.

Hallie Busta

Next week: My thoughts on One Book, One Northwestern.

Though I have sheets to sleep between, (no confirmation about a bed to sleep on just yet), I still don’t have anything to use to transport my dirty laundry, organize my shoes or change the way I smell after an 8 mile run. But while my situation has yet to cause me any sleepless nights, up until yesterday afternoon it was becoming a growing concern.

Enter: the mailwoman; bounding down my street like Pheidippides, arms pumping wildly, miles of momentum driving her forward through the haze atop the hill and into view. The closer she got, the more clearly I could see the pained expression spreading quickly across her face; her bloodshot eyes, chapping lips and sun-burnt appearance reflecting the importance and urgency of the document that she carried.

After what seemed like an eternity, she collapsed at the base of my driveway, mumbling something in ancient Greek before handing me the Walmart “Off to College” brochure. Nearly in shock at the gravity of the information passed on to me, I commenced a short but jubilant sprint back to my air-conditioned house, finally assured that I wouldn’t smell like a lost and worn-out gym shoe during my first weeks of college, while the mailwoman gallantly finished off her historic journey at the base of my driveway.

I might be exaggerating.

Regardless, the importance of the subject matter is what requires such a dramatic introductory anecdote. Being that we freshmen-to-be have been spending much of our summer stressing out about finding ways to pay for books and Chicago-based fun, acquiring student loans, and keeping up with the slew of forms and applications, it seems to me that buying supplies is the least stressful of all the necessary preparations. While for some it may be too early to begin stockpiling on extra underwear and Post-It notes, those of us required to arrive on campus early need a head start; besides, for everyone else, this just affords the opportunity to keep a steady eye on the sale racks.

That having been said, considering my need to be on campus early, I’ve been scouring over brochures, like the one I received yesterday, with an effort so resolute that I would be much better off spending it analyzing student loan forms. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, my habitual procrastination has paid off; I have discovered, practiced and honed my dorm room shopping techniques all by looking through a few brochures. So I’ll lay it all out for you right here, right now:

STEP ONE: IF YOU CAN’T BE AT ‘EM, JOIN ‘EM

According to the catalogues and brochures, collegiate happiness stems from physical attractiveness- or, as Derek Zoolander puts it, “being really, really, ridiculously, good-looking.” With that established, immediately upon your arrival to campus — be it at the beginning of August or mid-September — I urge you all to find “good-looking” people and become friends with them; stalk them if you must. And, since attractive people tend to migrate towards other people of similar physical beauty, it will be easy to amass friends and be well on the way to a great four years of brochure-bliss. You do want to be happy, don’t you?

STEP TWO: DON’T HESITATE TO DECORATE

Since there still are a few weeks before anyone heads to Evanston to befriend the cream of Northwestern’s “good-looking” crop, and no one wants to start their required reading, we need something urgent and important with which to keep ourselves busy. So, what to do? Go shopping; I recommend hitting up the funky, “loud” bed comforters first, before all the “decorative” ones sell out. Once you have found one to suit your inner Christian Siriano, find three or twelve pillows to match. Don’t forget to grab some “Art XPRESS Wall-Decals” on your way out; I plan on buying the ones that resemble hard-core motorcycle-type tattoos, as advertised in Bed, Bath, and Beyond’s catalogue. After all, why use them to decorate your body when your dorm room walls will do the designs much more justice?

However, for those whose thinking is backwards on this matter, or for those who are simply less ambitious, may I point you in the direction of the “wash-cloth banner,” complements of Target. It is what it is, but I recommend that it be used to display only clean washcloths and I’m sure your roommate will agree with me on that.

STEP THREE: GET COOKING
Or not. Though I have yet to try the recipes for “Gushi Sushi” and “Hip Chex”, and probably never will unless one of you convinces me otherwise, their components leave me wondering how that marketing meeting at the Target headquarters went down, exactly . Perhaps their efforts will force me to stand corrected about my opinions; maybe I’ll find that Northwestern students gather together to snack on crushed up candy bars rolled sushi-style between chewing gum or exchange witty banter around a big bowl of microwaved Chex mix and Coke zero, garnished, of course, with cheese and beef jerky.

I mean, I could be wrong; and if I am, grab your most attractive friends, a few extra pillows, and hunt down that illegitimate microwave for some “hip” and “gushi” fun.

(On an honest note) Best of luck with all your dorm room preparations!

Next week: the pros and pitfalls of random Facebook friending.

Hallie

Though I was hoping that while opening the envelopes, in at least one of them I would find $50,799.00, an Ethernet cord, and tickets to a Flogging Molly concert, Northwestern let me down yet again. Rather, I pulled out and held in my hand one of the more peculiar forms that I have received since being admitted. While I have spent the past 9 months or so stressing about financial aid, student loans, and all the like, it was kind of strange to read about the quintessential details of bed-sheet shopping (because up to this point, I had no idea that there were any).

Granted, I had heard rumors that you needed longer sheets for college, but I presumed that they could be bought at Target, WalMart, or what have you. I was wrong. Whether it is true or not, the form I received pertaining to the size of bed sheets we need to purchase details that they are “Guaranteed to Fit. Guaranteed ’til Graduation”; much to my dismay, I’ve found that they are guaranteed to be the only ones available. I may sound picky, so don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with Aqua/Kiwi Waves or Pastel Stripe and I really like Tangerine, my problem was that I wanted to spend the least amount of money possible, which to me meant scouring the sales in my hometown.

To cut to the chase, the sheets that we need to buy should be, according to a sales representative at the company wanting to sell us their sheets, 39″ x 80″ x 8″, however, the sheets advertised as XL twin in my area (Target) measure out to be 39″ x 80″ x 12″. Will this small variation make a big difference? Let me know, because I’m not going to be the one to find out. I’ve already learned my lesson anyway. My mom was right, and I try not to let that happen very often.

For starters, I should have known that anything addressed “To the parents of: [your name here]” must not travel past the kitchen and certainly has no right to seek refuge in my bedroom, no matter how scared it is of the electric bill. Though I had not intended to open it once I noticed the real addressee, the score still stood at Mom: 1 Hallie: 0.

So, down one right from the get go, I opted to dive into the heat of the battle rather quickly. The following night, I gathered my logistics and prepared to protest the need to order from the brochure; a professional penny-pincher myself, I felt that I would be better off shopping locally. Mom: 2 Hallie: -1.

Because at this point I was still “right” with the information that I had accumulated, I thought I’d one-up her and prove victorious (aka: save $10.00). So, I did a little research and found out the measurements of the sheets that Target was advertising as XL Twin length bed sheets. Mom: 3, Hallie: needs to decide between Kiwi Summer and Lavender Stripe.

My point here is, that though preparing for college is often portrayed as a trouble-free endeavor, I have quickly found that, though exciting, it is not. With financial situations to asses, supplies to be bought, forms to be filled out, and all the like, this experience can be overwhelming and consequently draw out our inner anxieties only to allow them to masquerade as totally different emotions. It seems to me that this situation exists both with me as a student and my parents; I mean it’s not this crazy house full of hate and animosity, not at all, so don’t get me wrong there. I just found it funny that a little thing like an order form for the right size bed sheets can spark such a heated debate. There I was, so set on scrimping and saving my way through college that I let my stubbornness take over before accumulating all the information, then there was my mom, still being my protector, even though at 17-years-old I am a little reluctant to accept her advice.

It came out clear that my apprehension to have enough money to support myself and be as financially independent as possible (buy my own sheets) clashed with her own fear of me being short-sheeted. Fair enough. This stubborn desire for independence, my parents also felt, could easily highlight my natural naivety as a young woman in a completely new environment. Once again, I realized that they had hit the nail on the head, as they have done so many times these past 17 years.

Nevertheless, I haven’t thrown in the towel on figuring things out for myself, and I encourage the rest of you not to do so either. Our parents/guardians want us to have the most rewarding experience that $50,799.00 a year can buy, so to get our money’s worth, these arguments/discussions are a necessity. Having gone through many of these experiences before us, their insight is golden to the fate of our desired successes; sure, they may be a little overbearing but, at least in my case, it’s only because come September, they won’t be there to see that everything is all right at the end of the day.

Well, that’s all for now. Happy bed sheet shopping!

I was the girl who would read the same Beverly Cleary books over and over again, ran laps around the outside of the playground during recess, and wore black and neon green, plastic, Wayfarer sunglasses at school for about a month in the third grade for lack of the glasses that I wanted but didn’t actually need.

I may have been strange, but sometime between then and now, I grew up – just like we all did. Maybe it was because I actually came to need some real glasses, decided to run cross-country, or took a liking to my English classes. And somehow, someone here at Northwestern was convinced of this transformation as well…

Which puts me here: an incoming freshman and a proud member of the class of 2012, without a clue as to what to bring, what classes to take, or even where to live/eat once I get to campus. Sure, I’m nervous, really stressed out, and a little scared about what will happen come September, but more importantly, I’m excited about the challenges and adventures that await me throughout the rest of this summer and into the fall.

I’ve already faced a few of them from 300 miles away. Though I have grown out of the nerdy-freaky kid that I once was, the part of me that has always been overly eager and anxious still remains. This time, instead of doing a face plant on my way down the driveway to catch the school bus – as frequently happened during grade school – my excitement did, among other things, cause me to write the wrong information in the wrong blank spaces on both my housing and tuition deposit forms. I called the Admissions office in a panic, asking, basically, if I could still attend Northwestern. I think that got me bumped to some kind of special list, or something.

As if that didn’t have me feeling undeserving enough, I spent a good three hours trying to download the NU Symantec Security system for my laptop; in actuality it takes all of 30 minutes, maybe even less. It turns out that while I will be living “on-campus” in the fall, when commanded during the installation process, I should have chosen “off-campus” because the Panera Bread Co. wireless Internet in North Canton, Ohio is not the Elder residence hall in Evanston, Illinois (oh, but how I wish it was). I really do owe my first-born, or at least a pint of blood, to the guys in the technical support center.

Once all that was up and running and life was pure bliss and happiness, they sent out the housing information. Fantastic, right, but they didn’t send it to me. You see, since I am on the aforementioned special list, Northwestern no longer communicates with me. Not a problem though. I got it off of the Internet, filled it out, sent it in, and then began to worry. You see, for me, worrying is not just a speciality, it’s an art. I’m absolutely fantastic at it. I rock the worrying world. Some little, plaid-jumper-and-sunglasses wearing, 8-year-old voice inside my head told me that there was a reason, and probably not a good one, and probably related to my messing up the housing deposit form, that I did not receive the housing registration packet. Even though after a week or so, I realized that it probably wasn’t that big of a deal, I still put a very concerned call in to the Housing Department to make sure that they weren’t scamming all the kids whose inner 8-year-old was too hopped up on pixie sticks and green Kool-Aid to read the directions. Turns out, despite the confusion, they didn’t kick me out.

While I may not be the best at filling out forms, downloading software, or keeping calm, I’m sure to be one of many in the struggle to break out of the controlled high school environment and into the spontaneous, faced-paced almost-real world of college. Maybe you all think I’m crazy (I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the sunglasses), or that I have bigger problems than can be solved by a degree from Northwestern.

Even if that is the case, we are all headed down the same road, with the same destination in mind. For the time being, during the longest summer of all of our lives, I will be your guide as we prepare to stumble blindly toward our futures.

Hallie Busta
Class of 2012