Going Home For Thanksgiving
Living home is like being in prison on Rockefeller drug charges. You have no freedom, tons of rules, and you probably didn’t even do shit wrong. Coming to college is like getting paroled and dropping a multi-million dollar rap album about the experience. All of a sudden you have independence, options, and choices. Life is good, but even Young Buck has to meet with his P.O. every once in a while. At least you get to meet with yours’ over turkey and yams.
Going home for Thanksgiving is a pivotal point in a person’s adult development. For most freshmen, it is the first time they will be forced to deal with their parents, face to face, since entering the wonderful world of college. Many of you may have a new tattoo, piercing, or random drunken injury to explain. Best of luck with that. You may be surprised to learn that your “totally un-cool” parents are actually aware that having a tongue ring means you’re a slut (and/or gay.) They may also be displeased if you’re Jewish, and can no longer be buried in a religious cemetery because you needed a tramp stamp on your lower back. Priorities.
