Six Easy Ways to Enjoy College Without Breaking the Bank

I am a college student in a large college town. As a college student, I am broke. I am lucky to be able to live at home to save money, but even with my average 37 hours a week while taking full course load, after paying my few bills, I have little to nothing left in the bank. So, these are the six ways I’ve discovered to enjoying college without breaking the bank.

1. Go To Movie Screenings

I go to Stephens College, which is a liberal arts school. As such, there are several majors related to film and theater, so there are always an abundance of movies being screened both in the library and the various correlating buildings. More often than not, there will be snacks and drinks. This makes a cheap, fun afternoon that won’t empty your wallet! Plus, if you bring friends no one will care.

2. Always Go to Student Meetings

If you’re having student elections, or there are open club meetings, go! It is a fun way to meet people with amazing snack potential. This is also a good way to get to know people outside of your major to start developing friendships. College is all about learning as much as you can and branching out, this is one easy way to take advantage of that.

3. Go to Parties

Obviously, be safe, but one of the few free things at college is the house parties. I wouldn’t recommend frat parties, but whatever party you go to, as long as you’re being safe and aware, have fun! It’s a free dance floor, snack bar, drinks, and lots of instant friends!

4. Pay Attention to Student Discounts

Lots of places, especially local mom and pop shops, will offer student discounts. The hardest part is to remember to ask for them! My personal favorite is the student discount at Shakespeare’s Pizza here in Columbia, Missouri. This is an easy way to have an affordable meal out every now and then.

5. Don’t Eat Out Every Day

I know for on campus students this can be very tempting, but it’s an enormous money pit. According to a study done by savethestudent.org[1], the average college student spends an average of $145 on food alone per month. This doesn’t include the meal plans that so many students are forced to buy. I know the struggle. I commute an average of 45 minutes to an hour every day for my 8 AM class, and I’d love nothing more than to be able to eat a full Panera breakfast every day. But we can’t, and shouldn’t. Which brings me to my final and most important hack:

6. Treat Yourself!

I mean this in two ways. The first being, treat yourself right! You only get one body, and eating fast food twelve times a week and drinking excessively is not being smart or safe. Not to mention financially smart! Want to slash your budget? Cut back on the fast food and late-night beers. The Freshman 15 is a real and alive beast, fight it as best you can.

The second way I mean this, is that you should absolutely treat yourself every now and again. Have that massive slice of chocolate cake, or that martini that is your entire 2,000 daily carbs. Everyone needs to cut loose and have fun. Just take cash with you out instead of your cards. You don’t want to wake up with a $100 drink bill in the morning!

 

I hope you found my list helpful, there are a lot more where that came from and I can only excitedly anticipate telling you more!

Sources

Photo credit: http://college.monster.com/finance/articles/250-financial-literacy-a-necessity-for-college-students-with-money-questions

http://www.savethestudent.org/money/student-money-survey-results.html,

[1] http://www.savethestudent.org/money/student-money-survey-results.html

New Blog!

I have started a new blog as a school project, about Germany and it’s history and culture! To read all of that awesomeness click this link: https://scopeofgermany.wordpress.com/ and enjoy!

Where I Eat Gluten Free

So I recently found out that I have a gluten intolerance. That really pissed me off. Honestly. I love pies, and brownies, and doughnuts, and sandwiches. It made me so mad. I am not a hipster, I love steak and sugar and gluten-filled pizza.

But, it was either change my eating habits or be constantly constipated. See what I did there? Hehehe.

So since I live in a college town, I’ve got a lot of really great options. I know these aren’t everywhere, but this is where I eat on a regular basis.

REMINDER: I only have an intolerance, not an allergy. These are not guaranteed gluten-free 100%.

Culvers

http://www.culvers.com/

One of the many reasons I love this place is because they have gluten-free hamburger buns! My best friend’s brothers, who all have Celiac Disease, eat these on a regular basis and love them. They cost $1.08 each, but are completely worth it.

 

Freddy’s Frozen Custard and Steakburgers

http://www.freddysusa.com/

Freddy’s is another burger joint, not unlike Culver’s. The main difference is in burger styles and menu options. For me, Freddy’s burgers taste better, but they have no gluten-free bun option. Their fries are typically not fried in the same oil as battered foods, but make sure you ask. Each location should have allergy information, so make sure you know for sure before you order anything!

 

Chipotle Mexican Grill

https://www.chipotle.com/menu

Chipotle is great for being gluten-free, the bowl options are prime for being tasty, nutritious, and filling. It can be pricey, but eating out will be in general.

Domino’s Pizza

https://www.dominos.com/en/

Domino’s is the only pizza joint I’ve been able to find that offers gluten-free pizza options. In addition to offering gluten-free pizza, IT ACTUALLY TASTES GOOD!!! If you’re new to this whole thing, you don’t know the struggle of finding good gluten-free pizza yet.

 

I’m sure there are some places that I missed, if there are let me know in the comments below where you like to eat gluten-free! Stay savvy.

7 Easy Ways to Procrastinate

http://duffmcduffee.com/content/uploads/2014/01/ahh-procrastination.jpg

I am a procrastinator. I’ll admit it. I would love to say I’m super organized and have my life together, but that’d be a Pinocchio-worthy lie, and I don’t like lying to you.

So, I thought a good way to spread the love would be to share my top seven ways to procrastinate during a typical school week. Enjoy.

1. Pinterest

OMG I love Pinterest! I won’t ever try to hide it. I have over 18,000 pins that I will never look at again, but for some reason feel so secure knowing that if I ever need to design a fourteen-billion dollar home, I’ll have the aesthetics ready for reference.

 

2. Cleaning

“I’m not being productive right now. I should clean my room.” Phft, yeah right. All I know is two hours later I’m sitting in a pile of dirty laundry and old diaries laughing at my twelve-year-old self’s drama.

 

3. Taking a Walk

While almost every college-y blog you’ll ever read tells you that, “…taking a walk is a good way to clear your head when you feel overwhelmed, and just need a minute.” I’m calling BS. Ninety-percent of college is feeling overwhelmed. If you’re not feeling stressed out over something you’re not doing it right.

But I digress. Taking a walk is a perfect way to walk right over to the nearest pizza place and eat your problems away. Which leads us to our next procrastination creation.

 

4. EATING

By far my favorite procrastination creation, eating is the most fun and delicious option. While eating can be bad for you, we don’t care. Because let’s be honest, pizza. And buffets. And pizza buffets.

 

5. Facebook

Whether you’re stalking ex’s, trying to discreetly unfriend your mom, or hack your BFF’s profile to spam them, Facebook is undoubtedly one of the biggest time black holes ever. From embarrassing pictures your aunt posts to inspirational videos of disabling animals triumphing over obstacles, Facebook is the time suck for you.

 

6. YouTube

Undoubtedly one of the biggest video dump sites ever for cat, and fail videos, YouTube is the savior when it comes to escaping reality. It’s like drugs for people who are too introverted to find a dealer.

 

7. Netflix!

I don’t know if I can even describe how much time I’ve spent on Netflix, running from finals and Midterms. It’s a beautiful, beautiful creation and if I didn’t have trust issues I’d try to marry its creator.

 

I hope the list has helped you find some ways to procrastinate, and I wish you luck on the semester.

What to Do: When Pulled Over By the Police

I’ve only ever been pulled over once by a policeman. I deserved it. I was going about 72 in a 55 zone. In my defense, I was late for my Physics 101 class. He was courteous and let me off with a warning since I was polite and it was my first infraction.

It can be nerve wracking for those of you who haven’t been pulled over. I won’t lie, I was sweating and almost cried thinking of that potential $300 ticket I didn’t have money for. So for everyone who’s never been pulled over, here’s what you should do:

1. After recognizing you’re being pulled over, pull your car to the shoulder of the road and turn your car off.
2. After making sure it’s a marked police car, roll down your window 3/4 of the way. Enough to talk to the police, but not enough that they can reach inside to grab you (I’ll explain why this precaution below).
3. After establishing that it is a police car, if it is dark, turn on your interior light so the officer can see you.
4. If you conceal and carry, keep both of your hands on the wheel where the officer can see them. When they run your plates it will show them your permit and they will most likely ask to see your weapon and have you step out of the vehicle. They are not harassing you, this is protocol.
5. If you don’t conceal and carry, still keep your hands on the wheel or where the officer can see them. It’s a basic safety measure that helps everyone involved to stay calm.
6. Keep your doors locked unless the officer asks you to exit the car. This is not an insult to the officer, simply a basic safety measure.
7. If the officer asks to see your license and registration, provide them.
8. They will take these back to their car and run them.
9. They will return to your car and inform you on the consequences of why you were pulled over.

I’ve never been written a ticket, but I assume they simply write you one and you are obligated to pay within a time frame before they enforce other actions.

CALL 112:

If you are a woman, being pulled over can be especially scary. ALWAYS make sure the car that pulled you over is a marked police car.This means it has letters on the car with the local Police Department’s name. There should also be a car number to identify itself. There won’t be just one ‘bubble light’ on top, there will be multiple rows of lights both inside and outside the car.

If it is not a marked police car, KEEP YOUR CAR LOCKED and call 112 or 911. You will tell them your location, and that you were pulled over by an unmarked police car. They will check to see if there are any unmarked cars in the area.

There have been several incidents where women were pulled over by convicted rapists and felons in order to hurt them. This number has saved lives. I know several women and girls who are afraid to call the number in case it’s a real policeman. Don’t be. This could save your life.

TIPS

1. Don’t say “what’s the problem officer?”, this sounds combative and will likely irritate them. Let the officer talk first. Don’t mouth off.
2. I don’t recommend flirting ladies. It may work some of the time, but it can come off as annoying and may land you that ticket.
3. Try not to be defensive or angry. Whether or not you were in the wrong, they are the police and they are the authority. Irritating the person with the authority will only escalate the situation and potentially worsen your outcome.

I Am Cinderella?

I don’t have an evil Stepmother, or evil Stepsisters (just normal evil sisters), or a dead dad. But, I do know what it’s like to do Cinderella’s job.

The summer of 2015 I worked as a house cleaner for a local cleaning service. I cleaned vacant houses and apartments, new construction, and a few houses I’m sure were haunted.

I was essentially Cinderella without the dress, ball, or hot rich prince.

I’ve had a lot of jobs, I’ve worked retail, fast food (at Disney World), child care, and tutoring. But they were all better than cleaning.

In new construction houses, there are construction workers. These workers, like any humans, need to use the *ahem, facilities, every now and again. They are provided PortaPotties, but for some reason they often use the new (and typically not running) plumbing in the houses they build. Part of the checklist when you clean new houses is to check and clean the plumbing. Need I say more?

There is nothing quite as foreboding as walking into a new house in 102F heat, with no air conditioning, no electricity, and no running water.

As you may imagine, this was the worst part of the job. If possible, we’d scoop it out with something, throw it out, and continue cleaning. Unfortunately, the after cleaning could sometimes take hours. Because there was no running water, you weren’t able to flush the toilet. Because you weren’t able to flush the toilet, this made the chemicals that you are using in the summer heat very strong.

I’m not sure if I almost fainted or blacked out or accidentally got high, but you learn the hard way to let it sit and revisit later.

Another experience is cleaning a college student’s empty apartment. I will say one thing and let you imagine the rest: used condoms.

There were very few perks to this job, but the people you worked with became your second family. Neither of you want to be doing this job, but you have respect for one another because you both know what sh*t you have to go through every day. You acknowledge each other because you’re both willing to do one of the dirtiest jobs in existence to make $11 an hour.

You do what you have to. And that is something not everyone is willing to do.

I Wish I Was A Gangster

I love mob movies. Particularly violent ones like The Godfather or Goodfellas. Not for the sake of them being violent films, but simply because I consider it to be a more accurate representation of what it was actually like to be in the mob. Other films make it seem glamorous or consequence free.

I always wished I was a gangster. The Chicago mafia kind, not the other kind you racist.

I always saw myself running it too, being the boss. Being the oldest of four kids, sometimes you feel like the head of the mafia. Especially when you gang up on your parents. Hey, I’m not saying we took the candy. Go ask the others, they’ll tell you. We were all in the basement playing Chutes and Ladders.

Obviously there’s a reason the world isn’t run by mobs, we need the police and (debatably) the government. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like. It’s hard to not to respect the women who headed some of the biggest cartels and mafia gangs.

My grandmother is Irish, and you can tell. She doesn’t have an accent, but she is very assertive and definitely wears the pants in our family. Sorry Grandpa.

With some of her stories, I’m not convinced she wasn’t a mobster. For example, there are varying versions of a story where after not receiving a package she was promised, she proceeded to hunt down the courier and ask for it. With a shotgun. She is one of my personal heroes for many reasons, as you may guess.

She’s taught me some of the tricks of the trade to being a strong woman. Being assertive and strong, not taking BS from anyone. Always standing by your family, and it never hurts to know a few street fighting styles.

Sometimes I wish I was a gangster.  Even though I’ve never broken the law or been arrested, I’ve got my own stories like anyone else. I admire the mobs not for their illegal activity, but their strength and cunning and loyalty. I’m no Godfather or Capone, but I’ve got a good start.

Pot Roast and Fights On Sunday Nights

Sundays are sacred in my family. At least they used to be. It would be the same every week. Get up, go to the nine am service with songs and a sermon, go to Sunday School, go home. Maybe if we were lucky it was someone’s birthday and we would eat out.

But most of the time we would go home to a pot roast. Mom would put it in the night before and let it marinate and cook all night and morning. It was usually delicious. Of course there were those times when it would be bone dry and we would all pretend it was good anyway. We were afraid of hurting Mom’s feelings and accidentally being rude, getting ourselves in a mess of trouble from Dad. Manners were a way of life at our house.

We live in the Midwest, so it isn’t as strong as the South, but it’s still a fundamental way of living. In a way, Midwesterners almost pride themselves on being a modern South. We have the accents and manners, but dropped the racism and gained incredible schools and technology.

Anyway, Sundays were sacred. We would, the kids, fight over the comics on the way home. Dad would always threaten to end it by using them in the fireplace if we didn’t knock it off, and I always got them first. Not because I’m the oldest, but because I seriously learned how to kiss butt in the middle of a routine arguments like these. My favorites were always the Zitts and Beetle Baily.

We would pull into our two-car garage and run inside. Half the time Mom made bread in the bread machine, which was always one of my favorite parts of the meal. I loved it when she made whole wheat, I would get honey and butter, melt the butter, pour it on the bread so it soaked in, and lather honey all over it. The crust was the best part. It was flaky and crunchy, with a hint of herbs.

Everyone would scurry upstairs to change out of their Sunday clothes while I got my plate. That’s something you learn when you’ve got a decently large family. The family who eats together, leaves someone without the best part of the meal. So I learned how to get my plate quickly, run upstairs, change, and be down and claim my plate again in under five minutes. I had to hide my plate while I changed, or sometimes even take it with me into my room! I was dedicated!

We would all eventually get our food and sit at the table. Dad and Mom at the ends and us kids in the middle. When we were all little, we’d all hold hands during prayer to make sure everyone was actually praying. And that always felt like the longest prayer ever. Every Sunday at lunch, the prayer felt like it took decades.

But it was worth it. The waiting and the arguments I mean. The pot roast was always the end game, so to me it was always worth it. Something about knowing what to expect is just comforting in a way I suppose. My mom’s pot roast will always be a significant part of my childhood memories. The routine and pattern of Sunday was something I could depend on for a long time.

Really, Sundays are a sacred practice for most people. Even if you’re not religious, most people have their Sunday routine. Whether or not you go to mass, church, or celebrate a holy Saturday, everyone has a Sunday pot roast of their own.

Meeting the RIP’d

There are a lot of people that I haven’t met that I’d like to.

Joan of Ark. C.S. Louis. The cast of Bonanza. Andy Griffith. Elvis. Realistically, I know I probably won’t ever meet these people. Personally I believe in an afterlife, but for those who don’t, there isn’t much chance of meeting them. There isn’t any way for me to meet them, for me to experience what they’re like as humans.

But the main way we try to get to know these people, usually celebrities, is through media. Through photos, videos, books (they’re these papers bound together with words printed on them), or any other way to try and relate to how they think or live.

My person is my father’s father. He died when I was nine, but I have a few select memories of him that are vivid. I don’t really consider that I met him, since I’m not sure if the memories are mine or stories retold to me over the years.

My clearest memory is when we were at his house with my grandmother, my father’s siblings, and their families for my grandfather’s birthday party. They didn’t live in a good part of town, so every now and then the guys would walk around and make sure everyone was there and safe.

We walked to their fenced backyard and saw three wooden picnic tables and a small swing set that he had put up for us kids. My younger siblings screamed and ran to the swing set and started playing. It smelled strongly of barbeque and cigarette smoke and summer. I kept walking with my parents to the closest table, it had all of the presents on top. There weren’t many, our family didn’t have much then and neither did anyone else.

But I was so excited. I had brought my Grandpa the best gift ever. I used to pester my Dad to tell me stories about his childhood all of the time, he would sort out the good ones and apply filters as needed. He mentioned multiple times that his dad and his brothers and he would always play marbles. And not just for fun, for keeps! That was exciting to me and my younger siblings, so our father bought us a bunch of marbles. Cat eyes, swirled, solid, marbled, shooters, rollers, and the biggest one I’ve still ever seen.

So I had brought him the best gift I could. I brought him my favorite marbles. They were expensive, at least by kid standards. I had saved up for three months to buy myself a new marble set. Clear ones that were speckled with blue and red on the inside. I had also given him some of my favorites, white with rainbow pain splatter. I carried the present myself, I didn’t want anyone else to lose it.

Grandpa came around the corner with Grandma, there were getting along that day. I ran to Grandpa and showed him my present, he laughed and said something and walked to the present table with me and sat down next to me. He called everyone over and got things started. I don’t remember much after that. People laughing, a couple fistfights, cheap sheet cake, generic orange soda.

A few years later my Grandpa died. He ran a bike and car shop, so he didn’t have much. But he had acquired some rare gold coins throughout his years. All of his valuables, his watch, his coins, everything he considered of worth, was missing. I know because my father’s siblings are petty vultures who always fight over everything when a relative dies. The coins were no where to be found. Also missing where the marbles I had given him, along with a drawing my younger sister had given him on a previous trip.

There are multiple ways I remember my Grandpa. I remember him through my name, when I see a motorcycle or souped up car, but most of all I remember him through marbles. This is how I remember the RIP’d in my life, and keep their legacy alive.

 

Traveling with Three Birds, a Tiger, and a Chihuahua

Traveling with my family feels like I’m traveling with a zoo. More specifically, three birds, a tiger, and chihuahua.

I’m in the middle row of our three row mini van with my two sisters with my younger brother in the back row.

The conversations sound something like this; “OMG! I can’t even! Chatter chatter chatter! Doctor Who nerdy stuff! NOOO! ROSE! JON! Stahp it!”

It’s a constant twittering. Constant. But that’s to be expected when traveling with three young birds.

Driving is the chihuahua, he randomly barks at the birds and tiger between his bouts of intense conversation. Usually about a favorite book or film. He drives with the attention span expected and makes abrupt turns to coincide with his barking points. He is scattered but vigilant.

And finally the tiger. She rides to the right of the chihuahua. She uses her navigating skills to keep the chihuahua on course and from getting too distracted. She has the heavy paw in the car and dominates the choice of topics. Ironically avoiding graphic and insensitive talking points.

Which leaves me as the unqualified supervisor. It definitely feels like a menagerie, but somehow no one gets devoured. I can only imagine this is like some odd version of Charlottes Web where we all coexist. Never before had I heard of this many contradicting animals working as a unit.

I guess we are a family full of firsts.