The key to achieving this solitude is to erase the stigma of being alone. I've learned to embrace the fact that just because I'm not surrounded by other people doesn't mean that I am necessarily lonely.
I don't want to be showing off my embarrassing patterned leggings and ugly bangs, circa 2002. However, I do see the fun in it: There's something satisfying about hearing a song that brings you back to your carefree high school days.
Whether they are desolate college towns or bustling metropolises, the cities that serve as our college-town homes are only ours temporarily, a third place in between the cities with the homes we grew up in and the future meccas with the homes we'll build for ourselves.
Recently, journalists from across the country have rushed to defend campus rapists and allowed men's rights activists to successfully infiltrate op-ed columns. For those of us who are survivors of sexual assault, we haven't been nearly as lucky.
Growing up in a conservative middle-class Long Island community, it was easy to think that freewheeling traditions only existed in our showtune-singing, freeish-thinking, theater-invested home that fostered individuality.