Violet rebellion.

I dyed my hair purple this weekend.

While other college kids move out and get piercings, tattoos, and addictions, my rebellion came in the form of semi-permanent Jerome Russell violet hair dye.

Turns out, purple doesn't show up so well in brunette hair. So the rebellion was more of a silent one, but it felt important to me.

In Athens? No.

Are you registered to vote? Of course.

In Athens? No. And I don't want to.

I refuse to vote in an election in a city that I have only been in for two months. It's not a matter of me not considering Athens to be home; it's a matter of me not wanting to affect issues and candidates about which I have very little knowledge.

I've lived in Beavercreek for eighteen years. I know most of the candidates; I know many of the issues. I know how I want to vote, and the vote will still affect me for five months out of the year.

I've been in Athens for six weeks; at the time of the election, I will have been here for about two months. I know none of the candidates; I know few of the issues. I don't want to affect the Athens community by my uninformed college vote.

A few of the students voting in the coming election will have researched the candidates and issues, and I think that's fantastic. But the majority of OU students will vote randomly: for the name that they've seen on the most posters, the name that sounds best, the issue that on the surface seems promising, etc.

I could be one of the few who researches, but I really don't have the time. By the next election I will be prepared to vote in Athens, but this election, I don't want to change something that I'm not well-informed about.

Yesterday I was confirmed that my decision was correct when a student in my Public Speaking class told everyone to vote at home. He is from Athens, and he doesn't want college students changing things which they know nothing about.

And don't try telling me that my absentee ballot won't be counted; I live in a Republican military community. They count our absentee ballots.

Doubt.

A few days ago, a kid in my dorm told me "It's hard to make it as a music journalist." Although I already knew this, what he said struck a chord. For the first time in my life, I doubted my career choice. I only started writing less than two years ago; what if journalism just isn't for me? Some of the other Scripps students in my dorm have wanted to work in the news industry for their whole lives. I didn't even consider the option until I was well into my junior year of high school. Before then I wanted to be a rockstar, a lawyer, an entreprenuer.

But then I think, if not journalism... what? There really is no other option. I chose journalism because I love to write, but I'm also not really good at anything else. I can read, I can write, I love music; it just seemed like the perfect option. Now don't get me wrong. I love writing, I love working in the news industry, and right now, this is what I want to do with my life. I'm just afraid that it won't last. Especially when I get out into the world and struggle. I'm not used to struggling. I hate to admit it, but things tend to come easily to me and I generally get what I want. But now at Scripps I'm surrounded by people who have been writers for years and I begin to doubt myself and my choice.

I don't doubt that I can do this, I'm just worried that as the competition gets tougher, I won't want to anymore. I guess that if that ever happens, I will have options... I just hope I've finally made the choice I'm going to stick with.

But suburbs are so boring...

For eighteen years, I hated living in my rich, upper-middle class, heterogeneous suburb. I wanted nothing more than to free myself from the boring oppression that was Beavercreek, Ohio. But now... I miss it. Of course I miss my family, but it's more than that. I don't just miss the people. I miss the place; I miss the lifestyle.

I miss being able to jump in my crappy white and gray Buick Regal and drive down the road to go to the mall with my friends. I miss high school football games and the sense of camaraderie when your characteristically-horrible team wins. I want to be able to walk down the dim, crowded hallways at Beavercreek High School and recognize the faces around me. I want to go back to a place where I knew the life stories of the people I came into contact with.

I love Ohio University, don't get me wrong; I'm just afraid that I will never have that same sense of belonging again. I want that level of comfort and familiarity that I had in Beavercreek. But can that ever be attained in a place with 20,000 people? Can I ever feel at home when I have to reestablish myself in a new dorm each year?

Now of course this blog sounds like a whiny, homesick little girl who doesn't want to step out of her comfort zone; and that was exactly the type of message I was hoping to avoid.

I'm not really homesick in the sense that I want to go back, because I don't. I want to stay here; I want to succeed here. I'm simply contemplating how surprised I am that I actually miss a place which I hated for years. I'm the classic example of someone who thought their suburban childhood was torturous, until they were free.

I'm ready for the next step in my life. I love that, in college, you are able to establish strong friendships quickly, because you're essentially together most of the day, every day. I am so excited, and slightly overwhelmed, by the abundance of opportunities around campus. The number of speakers and inspiring people I've been able to meet is amazing, and I've only been here for a month. OU is amazing and I can't wait to continue my life here.

Photo by Nathan Bartell.