I would like to go back to my junior year of high school and slap my younger self a few times in the face before making her sleep with brochures for Berkeley under her pillow. What was I thinking when I chose to go to a small, Catholic college in a dying industrial city that gets a lot of snow?

This turned out much as you'd expect for a strong-willed, semi-free spirited, liberal literary arts major. Can you say transfer? I don't question many of the decisions I've made in life so far, but I want those two years of my life back.