But in the return home, I think we each rediscover the reason we came all the way out here in the first place, the reason why we became college students. It’s not the love of learning, or the joy of being in a new place (aside from the JProgs, we’ve all been here for months). We come back because after a month at home, we simply cannot stand it anymore.

I would like to think that we all love our families very much, but to a certain extent, we have lived away from them for too long, and when we go back, it doesn’t seem right to live under the same rules that we once did. You can’t exactly assert your independence, but you can’t not either, leaving you in a state of uncomfortable limbo with your parents.

Even worse is the fact that we don’t get along with our high school friends as much as we used to. People go to different schools in different cities and study different things. Some don’t even go away, opting for the local state school or community college. All of these are recipes for growth apart in a way that is incredibly sad.

We never think we change, probably because we are a little too close to the action, but when you try to go back to your old routine, it’s not as simple as riding a bike. Your old relationships don’t seem to fit anymore, and your old mannerisms feel more affected than natural. Friends drift apart, children grow more mature and as hard as we try to keep everything the way it used to be, things, seemingly inexorably, will change.

When my sister used to come home from college, I never understood why she was back for so long, constantly stealing the remote and generally annoying me for months at a time while I was stuck in school. Why do the breaks last so long? Because after a certain amount of time (for me it was probably more like 12 hours) we come to realize how uncomfortable it is being home and how much more interesting and stimulating it is to be at school.

So we return to school, sobered by the reality that we prefer to be here instead of having to deal with old friends who drift apart from us and families that irk us to no end. Of course, in the struggles of the semester ahead, all of us will forget what we learned over break, and begin to look forward to a time of “relaxation” that is actually less relaxing than constant testing and lack of sleep.

But until that time comes, I’m happy to be back. I have spent my life’s savings on my textbooks (again) and I know I’m ready for school, if only because I’m more comfortable here, now, than anywhere else in the world.

(Mike Hirshon | Student Life)

Our plans, however, unwound into a mildly disgruntling but still quite exciting journey, us having found an adult block party in the middle of Euclid, complete with a dancing deck of cards and many women (and men) dressed up as tawdry-looking Disney characters. Because of all the drunken debauchery, I would assume, no one within a three-block radius would open their doors to a bunch of poor, pathetic college students. Still, it was all too funny to see.

Decked in a scarf and pants about five sizes too small for me, I realized that no one truly ever grows up.

Life has a tendency to put restrictions on us as we grow older: Play nicely with others, go to college, pay your own cell phone bill, get a good job, stop picking your nose. The list goes on, and we wrap ourselves in these costumes of “adults,” responsible, caring, good citizens who contribute to the greater good, and try our hardest to keep order, peace and reverence and not hit our cousin Jimmy when he tries to steal our Tonka trucks.

Adulthood is an expectation that has afflicted generations and generations before us as we maintain propriety rather than express how we truly feel. Oftentimes, it isn’t adult-like to act silly and let loose. We become so caught up in what we have to do that we forget who we used to be; we’ll put on the suit or the corporate mask or the soccer-mom wig, and when we finally do look at ourselves in the mirror, we don’t even know what is staring back at us.

The block party, though, is proof that given an opportunity, the child in us will get out. All it takes is one occasion, one little chance to revert back to adolescence, or even childhood, and adults will jump at the opportunity, whether responsibly or irresponsibly.

If adulthood is so uncomfortable, why do we bother trying to perform as adults? I don’t mean to say that we should just let everything fall into anarchy, and I know we do have to behave responsibly, but why is there so much tension in the world? Why do we kill ourselves putting on this image of some stereotype that is generations old? We’re all trying to do well in school or in our jobs so we can make a better life for ourselves, yes, but if we don’t take a second to look around—past the textbooks and the minivans and the taxes—we will miss what life is about.

It is more than just this performance starring the over-18 crowd. From time to time, we need to look back and see where we came from. We need to laugh, enjoy ourselves and be who we are, free from worries about what anyone else will think.

I can tell you from experience that some pants are just too tight to wear and should not be seen on your body or mine. Step out from your imposed adulthood and seriousness, and I think you’ll find that it’s much easier to breathe.