Welcome home! This is the first semester I get to say that. I’m one year older, and I feel much wiser now as the torch of hazing passes to the next round of freshman. God, they look young.

We’re a pretty all American team here. We’ve got your deadheads, your rockers, even like an athlete or two that slipped through the cracks of the bigger houses. We’ve got spunk, though, or at least that’s what the geriatric alumni tell us. We usually laugh at that but they don’t get it.

I’m in the swing of things these days. Classes are still easy and every night is drowned in cheap beer and hours and hours of whatever the latest FPS is. WiFi’s not so good, so lag is an issue.

I think what all this means to me is like I’ve found my place. Like, I’ve got people I can tell what to do and there’s still structure even over my head. I’m free to do what I want when I want but I know I can count on my brothers to stop me before I’ve gone too far.