Summer Lovin'

This past weekend, thousands of people witnessed an age-old rivalry in East Lansing, Michigan. The University of Michigan vs. Michigan State University football game. While the rival did not end in favor of my beloved Wolverines, we put up a good fight. What may have been even better than the game though was the tailgating that occurred prior to it. As most of you know, before the game comes the pregame, and before the pregame comes the pre pregame. This weekend, my friends and I traveled from Ann Arbor to MSU in East Lansing in hopes of having some fun before the real rivalry of a football game began. However, despite being a student at U of M, the tailgate I took part in in East Lansing may have been one of my favorites thus far. I know what you are wondering, ‘How could that be? With all of that green and white surrounding you?’ Well let me explain.

When I was nine years old, I became a camper at Wooden Acres Camp (WAC). It is a small, Jewish, sleep-away camp that, at the time, was located in Rothbury, Michigan (it has now been relocated to Lexington, Michigan). That first summer, my sister, Sierra, and I couldn’t have been anymore nervous. Well we were excited as well, but we didn’t know what to expect at camp. Would we fit in? Were our counselors going to be nice? Was the lake going to be too cold to swim? As the first day of camp quickly approached, the butterflies in our stomachs multiplied up until the night before we were supposed to leave. Our parents took us to our favorite restaurant as a “goodbye” dinner. We both devoured our cheeseburgers, and my dad and I split the cream puff for dessert. The dinner was great at the time, but when food poisoning hit a few hours later, I was regretting it. Sierra and I were going to have to be two days late to camp due to my upset stomach.

The anxiety quickly set it. As if we weren’t already nervous enough, we were now going to be the “new girls”. Friendships were already going to be established, activities would be chosen, and people were going to keep asking why we were late. For an eight and a nine year old, this was the end of the world.

Our parents drove us up to camp two days after it began. The four-hour car ride seemed like eight, but we wished it had lasted just a few hours longer. When we pulled up to camp, we were met by the owner’s wife Linda, who happened to be a friend of our mom. She made us feel comfortable right away by embracing us with hugs and offering her warm smile. However, as Sierra and I peered over to the big white tent to our left, we saw our fellow campers and the nerves heightened. But this was it. We unloaded the car, kissed our parents goodbye, and entered the big white tent with everyone else. Sierra and I were then split up due to the fact that we were in different bunks. She was in “Sunrise” with her age group, and I was in “Frontier” with mine. We squeezed each other’s hands and worriedly let go, ready to face the girls.

Linda introduced me to my counselors, Lauren and Molly. They were probably two of the prettiest girls I had ever seen! They were older, and cool, and they welcomed me with open arms. They quickly introduced me to the other girls in my bunk. I’m not sure what I had been so nervous about. The girls were so excited to have one more new friend, ready to embark on an eventful summer. My nerves quickly faded away, I grabbed a plate of chicken nuggets, and it was the start of something new.

The three weeks at camp passed too quickly. The girls I had been so nervous to meet quickly became my friends, and the friends whom I would consider family for the next six summers. Through laughs and heartbreak and fights and hugs, we were there for each other through it all. Only a few of us took on the transition from camper to counselor, but becoming a counselor opened doors to a whole new set of camp friends who also became family. Family that reunited a few times every year, which brings us full circle to the U of M vs. MSU tailgate at the Alpha Tau Omega fraternity in East Lansing, Michigan.

Most of my camp friends ended up being at this tailgate. Reunions, hugs, pictures, drinks, more pictures, a little bit of dancing, we all gathered as if no time had passed at all. Even our friend, Michael, from Montreal made the trek. Being surrounded by people who I consider family couldn’t have made me feel anymore love. I realized that these are the people I want standing next to me at my wedding. The people I want my kids to call “aunt” and “uncle”. The people I want to be doing wheelchair wheelies with one day in a nursing home. It was at this moment I realized camp friends are the best friends. And here are the reasons why.

         

      1.They have seen you at your worst.

No makeup, no hair gel, sweatpants and a tank top. They have seen you when you don’t look like you are a member of the human species, and they love you anyway.

2.You have killed together.

Bugs, spiders, mosquitos, and flies. They are your partners-in-crime for anything insect related.

3.Your 2 a.m. heart-to-hearts will never be forgotten.

Star-gazing in the middle of the night while pouring your hearts out to each other is something you will probably only experience at summer camp.

4.There is probably a 75% chance that one of them was your first kiss/boyfriend/girlfriend.

And there were probably 25 other children there to witness it.

5.Kitchen raids.

Oh yes, you did indeed sneak in to the kitchen with your best friends in the middle of the night to steel potato chips/ice cream/anything else that can cause high blood pressure and diabetes.

6.They were there for one of your “firsts”.

Your first time making it up on water skis, your first period, the first time you liked a boy, etc. You name it, and I’m sure one of your camp friends will recollect it.

7.Whether it has been ten days or ten years, reunions feel like it has only been an hour.

No matter how long you go without seeing each other, you can probably pick up right where you left off.

8.You have peed in the woods together.

And probably had some sort of sing-along to accompany it.

9.You have going skinny-dipping together. On multiple occasions.

Enough said.

10.Because at the end of the summer when camp was over, you held each other sobbing until the sun rose, making promises that over the school year nothing would change, and next summer you would all be back.

So yes, some of us are rivals. Some of my camp friends cheer for the Spartans and some cheer for the Wolverines. Some of us are still active at camp and some of us aren’t. But at the end of the day, the love we have for each other is not something that can be broken by a school rivalry. Now, an end-of-camp color war rivalry? Well that is a different story.

Sign My Funeral Program, Please

Last week, I came down with a virus. Sore throat, awful cough, runny nose, a temperature, the usual. Getting out of bed was difficult and like any person who is sick, I just wanted to lay in bed while my mom made me chicken noodle soup. However, being a sick college student is hard. Going to class, writing papers and studying for midterms when all you want to do is sleep. And I was no exception. However, my 9 a.m. class last Wednesday morning seemed to be pushing it. Not only did  I need my sleep to get better, but I truly did not want to infect the other students in my class, knowing that they had a paper due the next day as well. So I emailed my teacher apologizing for the class I would be missing and that I would bring her a doctor's note to excuse my absence. She kindly replied to feel better, and to remind me that I had a paper due the next day.

As simple as this sounds, of course it wasn't. Of course, I forgot to ask the doctor for a note. However, she had given me copies of the prescriptions she wrote, so I assumed  this would be good enough. I was wrong.

When I told my teacher that I forgot to get a doctors note but showed her the copies of the prescriptions, she told me this wasn't good enough and I would have to go back and get a signed note. Because we all have time to walk 20 minutes there and 20 minutes back while trying to study for three mid terms.

Although her answer saddened me, I remembered that this was the same class that requires documentation even if you miss class for a funeral. She told us "make sure you get the funeral program signed by the funeral director or have some other form of a documentation". WHAT? I am suppose to have the funeral director sign my program ensuring that I was actually there? Can you say distasteful? Disrespectful? I understand teachers and professors wanting documentation for an absence, but at some point there is a line that has to be drawn, one which I believe our society has crossed.

This summer, one my friends from high school unfortunately passed away. When I emailed my professor that I would not be in class and asked if I could turn my work in via email, she responded coldly that it would be fine, signing her email "cheers". She did not send her condolences or even acknowledge my trauma. She simply stated the fact and moved on. However, if a 20 year old had just emailed YOU that her friend had just past away, would you acknowledge it? 

Last winter, a friend of mine needed to be home to say goodbye to her best friend's mother as she passed away after a battle with cancer. However, my friend debated flying home at all due to the fact that she had an exam the same day. She was concerned that she would be unable to take the exam once she had returned to school. Again, here is a 20 year old dealing with death of a loved one, yet she is concerned that school and absence policies would get in the way of her much needed closure. 

The problem with these situations is not only a trust issue, but a problem with how authority figures in our society use their power. I understand that professors need documentation of an absence to ensure that students are not skipping their class. However, what educators, among others, need to understand is that some things are just sometimes more important than school. The exam can wait, the paper can wait, the homework can wait. In this crazy journey we call life, it is important that we prioritize correctly. Now, if you think you need to study instead of going to the bars with your friends, that's a different story and you probably have made the right decision. However, if you are debating going to a funeral or saying goodbye to a loved one because of school work, then there is a problem with the way our education system and our society makes students prioritize. 

Don't get me wrong, school is important, but so are our friends. So is our family. And so is the mourning process when necessary. In order for mourning to take place though, we should be allowed time and energy to focus our attention where it is most needed at that moment. 

However, as students continue to push themselves past their limits in order to obtain a certain job or internship or grade, are we simply doing ourselves an injustice? Are we the ones not taking enough time to be human, mourn deaths, stay healthy, etc.? It is important that as students were learn to slow down and enjoy (and notice) the small things. And for educators, it is important for them to understand that they aren't just in our lives to teach us material from a textbook. In a college setting, they are some of the only adults we may come in to contact with that day or that week. They are role models for who we may want to be in the future. This means showing emotion and giving their students the benefit of the doubt. Not every student is going to try and trick you with an excuse about being sick or an unfortunate funeral. And not every student can handle a trauma and schoolwork at the same time. 

So will I end up going back to the doctor's office to get a signed note that I was actually diagnosed with something contagious and shouldn't be in class? I haven't yet decided. What I do know though is that while yes I am a student, I am friend, daughter, and sister first. And that is one thing that will never change. 

Meet The Roomies: Marlee

Ok everyone. Prepare to meet one of the most influential and inspirational people you will ever come across. Meet Marlee. Now, Marlee isn't a current resident at the Stumble Inn, but she lived there this past summer, and truly left her mark there forever. Marlee is a junior at the University of Michigan studying Women's Studies. Additionally, she is the president of her sorority, Delta Gamma. Yes she is busy, and yes she will probably one day run the world, but that doesn't stop her from being kind-hearted.

Marlee and I met in spanish class our freshman year of college. But we barely knew each other, sat on opposite sides of the room, and didn't talk. So obviously we are best friends because of spanish class. LOL, no. Marlee and I really met at the end of our sophomore year when she became my summer sub-leaser. Marlee and I decided to meet at Starbucks to sign the lease, and that was supposed to be all. However, our fifteen minute lease-signing meeting turned into a one and a half hour coffee chat followed by a 45 minute shopping trip. And we lived happily ever after.

Marlee and I obviously became close friends very quickly. Marlee's smile doesn't only light up a room, but her genuine interest in what other people have to say is truly remarkable. Having a conversation with Marlee is probably what it felt like to have a conversation before technology. Marlee doesn't look at her phone or text or instagram while you are talking to her. Her attention is yours, and that really does make a person feel special.

If I haven't made it clear enough yet that Marlee is awesome, let me tell you a story that will convince you:
'Twas the night before Thursday, and all through the house,
the wine was a pouring, and not in a blouse
but a leopard print onesie Marlee had worn,
and just like that, the night was born.
She laughed and she joked but what had come next,
she hid under our table, scared and perplexed.
For she assumed that the boy who had entered the room
was a robber there to steal her, and her onesie too.
She laughed and cried and fell shortly after,
while the rest of us were still consumed with laughter.

And if THAT didn't convince you, then you can find the ultimate Marlee story on the "How it Began" page of this website.

All in all, my fingers are crossed that Marlee will be in my life until the day I die. The light and life she brings to all situations is rarely found. Now, I know what you're thinking, she sounds like the perfect girl, but I'm sorry everyone, she is taken by everyone's favorite guy. And I am so excited to one day plan her dream wedding complete with sunflowers and boat anchors.

Marlee, I hope you know how much you mean to me, the ladies of the Stumble Inn, and every life you touch. Thank you for starting The Stumble Inn with some amazing stories to last a life time.

Meet The Roomies: Ellen

If you know Ellen, you are one lucky ducky. As a matter of face, I met Ellen by luck, too. Ellen and I first met our freshman year at Umich in greek life rush line. Her last name starts with "st" and so does mine, so naturally we were put next to each other. We were two nervous, nerdy, adorable freshman ready to take Ann Arbor my storm. However, I quit rush after the first round (greek life isn't for everyone), and Ellen stuck around to get a bid from Alpha Delta Pi. Although I didn't continue my greek journey, Ellen and I kept in touch, exchanging party clothes and eating lunch together when we could. We started to lose touch just when fate put us back into each others arms. We both needed somewhere to live our junior year, and by chance, our friends formed a group that we were both part of. I couldn't contain my happiness when I found out Ellen and I would be roomies (after all, her last name in my phone is still "rush").

Ellen is a junior in the engineering school at the University of Michigan. She's super smart. She even had this awesome job this summer where she did research on mice and their ovaries! That may have been too much information for you to handle, but I hope it gives you an idea of how cool Ellen (and engineering) is.

As Ellen and I lived at the Stumble Inn together this past summer, we found out we have a lot in common. We both love to paint, work out, eat, eat before we workout, eat after we workout, a passion for interior design, Pinterest, Orange is the New Black, movies, and the list goes on and on. Not only do Ellen and I share interests and passions, but we also have in common life experiences which make it that much more comfortable to be around her, knowing that she understands some of what I have been through in this journey we call life.

Ellen and I were attached at the hip for a lot of the summer, and I truly would have had it no other way (I'm pretty sure much of the ab workout I got this summer was from Ellen making me laugh). One of my favorite memories of the summer with Ellen was when we laid out a blanket on our front lawn one evening, opened our computers, put our headphones in, and separately watched episodes of Orange is the Black. Yes, we are that comfortable with each other that we sat in silence watching the same television show, while people walked by and caught parts of the show's lesbian sex on our computer screens. Oh, college.

If there is anyone in the world I want my children one day to call "Aunty", Ellen is that person. The way she genuinely cares about people and the world is a quality you don't come across everyday. Everything she touches turns to sunshine. She has a way with making you feel better, and she is the kind of person you can be 100% yourself around and feel 100% comfortable. Ellen is studying abroad this semester, and I am truly counting down the days until she returns so she can once again be my partner in crime. If one day you get to meet Ellen, just smile. Because you just became a very lucky ducky yourself.

My Year in Halloweentown

With Autumn comes pumpkins, apples, sweaters, and of course, Halloween. The perfect time of year for children to upset their stomachs with too much candy, and for college students to dress up and party with their friends. Here at the Stumble Inn, we are currently in discussion over what our costumes should be. Should we go with a group theme and dress as The Spice Girls? Grease's Pink Ladies? Or do we go our separate ways and pick costumes unique to all of us? Luckily we still have a couple of weeks to decide, but nevertheless, the earlier we pick costumes, the earlier we can DIY and save a few dollars.

Although choosing costumes with the roomies is fun and makes for great conversation, I can't help but think back to Halloween 2013 and the way it changed me as a person forever.

In college you usually have more than one costume during Halloween, considering you usually go to more than one Halloween party. Last year, Halloween fell on a Thursday, so I had a costume for Thursday night and a costume for Friday night. On Thursday I dressed up as a princess, complete with a shiny pink dress, a tiara, and silver heels. On Friday I went a little more outside of my comfort zone and dressed as Barbie, complete with a pink bow and pink tutu (if you haven't detected a theme thus far, my favorite color is pink and I make sure everyone knows it). My costumes were fun and comfortable and made for some great pictures. What I didn't know at the time, was that I wouldn't feel like a princess again for a while.

Although my night as a princess went exactly as planned, my night as Barbie ended with a traumatic event that I was unable to shake. Stress and anxiety set in, my self-esteem lowered, and mental disturbances were ultimately triggered. Shortly after this trauma I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD).

Now, if you know me, OCD may not be the first thing that comes to mind. I don't keep things neat and tidy, I don't need my notes in class to be absolutely perfect, and if my socks don't match I probably won't notice. However, it is important to understand that OCD comes in many forms. In my case, it does not come in this easily accessible form of cleanliness. Mine comes in a little bit more of a complex form, one which involves thoughts of disease and death. Although this was a scary time in my life, being a student at The University of Michigan doesn't allow for slacking, and my personality doesn't allow for moping around and feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I masked my fears, plastered a smile on my face, and kept on going.

But the year was far from over.

I entered cognitive-behavioral therapy where I was assisted with dealing with my OCD and overcoming the traumatic Halloween event. I was still unable to look at pictures from that night, being around people was extremely difficult, I couldn't discuss the night without tears, and I was unable to fill my mind with images other than those from that night. I was essentially drowning in my own thoughts, barely able to come up for air.

However, as I continued therapy, I began to go through waves of feeling better and feeling worse. I lived my life on these two extremes for months. The trauma I experienced made it difficult for me to form romantic relationships and foster existing friendships. This was difficult for me because people have always been the happiest and most important part of my life. Although I had absolutely amazing support, I wasn't sure my family truly understood what I was going through until I had to turn down a dream job in fear that my mental weaknesses would get in the way of the job responsibilities. I felt as though I was giving up, and I didn't want to let that happen. So I sought other jobs that would allow me to continue my therapy as well as take my mind off of the still-fresh trauma. I ended up accepting a job as an intern for Cosmopolitan Magazine, which I couldn't have been anymore excited about.

Cosmopolitan is a very peppy, sparkly, shiny, and vibrant company. They have recently redirected the aim for their magazine to a theme of empowering women, and at the time, that is exactly what I needed. However, my job was to use peppiness and happiness to sell Cosmo subscriptions, and I realized that I wouldn't yet be able to take off my smile-painted mask just yet. Still stuck in Halloweentown, I kept the mask on and sold the subscriptions.

When the internship had ended (I applied again and was accepted for this term), I realized that it had taken my mind off of my fears, and I was feeling a bit better. Daily activities weren't as difficult, being around people became some-what fun again, and I felt a genuine smile under the painted one starting to emerge. Just when I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, a traffic jam congested my flow.

As my mental disturbances seemed to be lessening, physical ailments took a turn for the worse. As I have mentioned before, I have serious back problems. However, the problems had seemed to escalate from manageable to down-right brutal. Walking became a luxury which I could only handle in small amount. I began to move less and less which led to leaving the house minimally, which made it difficult to keep my OCD at bay. As my back pain (which turned to nerve damage) worsened, my mental disturbances returned, but this time they came with friends. From lack of movement, I developed diagnosed Depression as well. If you have ever experienced chronic mental and physical pain simultaneously, then you know what I am talking about. If you don't, I am not quite sure I can explain it to you. If my mind didn't have me planning how I would walk from point A to point B with the least amount of pain, my mind was absorbed by troubling thoughts due to the OCD and Depression.

Although the pain I was feeling was something I had never experienced before, I tried to keep a brave face, enter another mask. It was summer time at this point and I was enrolled in classes. I had to focus on keeping my grades up, and that's exactly what I did. Once again, I lowered my smile-painted mask, threw myself in to my studies, and kept trying to tell myself that no matter what I was going through, it could always be worse.

As the summer progressed, I ended up accepting a job at Urban Outfitters (a retail company). I was on my feet for 8 hours at a time (looking back this was not my best decision), but being around people seemed to distract me from my real problems.

I continued to tell myself it could always be worse, and just when I couldn't do that anymore, I found out that the only way to fix my back was through surgery. The surgery would take place two weeks before junior year classes were to begin. Although I was scared, I was secretly relieved. I received the surgery, and my physical pain was immediately remedied. My first steps after surgery were better than a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies on a rainy day, better than a musical festival with your best friends, and better than kissing in the rain with the man of your dreams. Although recovery took about 8 weeks, it was well worth it.

As the physical pain subsided, so did my OCD and depression symptoms (also thanks to the therapy I was still receiving). As these ailments seemed to lessen, I seemed to be getting closer and closer to the exit of Halloweentown.

But why should the story end there?

Unfortunately, my body seemed to have taken a liking to the pain medication I was prescribed for recovery after surgery. Being weened off of the medication was an experience like no other. My body was in pain, my head tingled, and Depression (a symptom of drug withdrawal) set in once again. Although this lasted only a couple of weeks, going to class while withdrawing from a drug can be a little time consuming. It was hard to enjoy the beginning of my junior year while I was focused on medication. But once again, I kept telling myself that it could always be worse.

Once I was finally weaned off of the medication, I started to see clearly again. However, looking in the mirror has been an inner-battle to see myself in a positive light, one I will probably fight for a while. I see a girl that gained about 25 pounds due to steroids and cortisone shots for my back, but who I should see (and who I am beginning to see) is a young woman who was strong enough to live in Halloweentown for a year while receiving straight A's (except for that darn Spanish class), work two jobs, throw two birthday parties, write articles for a college magazine, and work as a volunteer research assistant through the university. It is sad that society has trained girls like me to see our appearance as the most significant and most valued aspect of ourselves. Barbie, anyone?

While it takes work for me to see that I am stronger than I was before this, it will also take time for me to become Cheyenne again. Not truly having been myself for almost a year, I will need to reevaluate who I am and who I want to be, taking in to account these new experiences. And this is ok! I have entered a new chapter of my life and I hope it's a page-turner. I am excited to get back to dancing through life rather than analyzing everything I do. I am excited to genuinely smile, sparkle, and shine again. I am excited to run without pain, and more importantly, I am excited to finally be able to think and feel with less pain. Pain is a part of life, just as struggle is, but I can finally see the beginnings of my rainbow after the rain. I still participate in therapy once a week in order to keep my OCD at bay and to continue my healing process.

So here is my challenge for you. Be kind, or go away. Mental Illness is not something to be ashamed of, and it is not something to be joked about. Although you can't see a cast, does not mean that healing isn't taking place. You truly never know what kind of battle the person you pass on the street is fighting. And if you are the one fighting a battle, wearing a mask stuck in Halloweentown pretending to be someone or something you're not, don't let the phenomenon of a personal fable blind you to the fact that you aren't the only one going through something. We all have a story, and I hope that yours will end happily ever after.

Luckily for me, I live in a house right now full of laughter and love. Being with these girls at The Stumble Inn allows me to fully unmask, unwind, and slowly learn how to enjoy life again. And I can't wait to see what Halloween has in store for us this year. All that's left is deciding what color M&M each of us wants to be for our costumes.
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If you have depressive tendencies or thoughts of suicide, get help immediately. You are important, you matter, and someone loves you.

Meet the Roomies: Gauree

"Hi guys, I'm Gauree". These four words were probably the most comforting words Lauren and I heard on our first day of college freshman year. We had just moved in to our dorm room excited to meet new friends. However, our door had been open all day and barely anyone had even been in the hallway, let alone had been brave enough to venture in to our room. That was until a tiny girl in a purple skirt put on her big girl panties and decided to meet the neighbors. She was sweet, kind of shy, and even invited us out that night with her. Lauren and I couldn't have been more excited. Although I knew she was a sweet girl even in that first moment of meeting her, I knew we would get along well when she had the three of us use Capri-Sun juice pouches as a chaser that night before going to a party.

And I was right.

Ever since then, Gauree has been one of my closest friends. I was right during my first impression when I said she was sweet, but shy went out the window. Gauree is funny, clumsy, entertaining, the best baker you will ever meet, and one of the smartest, most well-spoken people I know. Her kind heart draws friends to her, but her loyal disposition is what makes them stay.

Gauree is a junior in the Ross School of Business at The University of Michigan. Although she is in the business school, she dreams of one day opening her own bakery in downtown Chicago. And I have faith that she will one day accomplish this goal.

Aside from her love of food and baking, Gauree has a love for children. Our freshman year, she worked at the day care on campus, always coming home with stories of how much the children loved her and how rewarding it was to be with them. One day, Gauree will be the best mom out there. She will probably have a room completely dedicated to arts and crafts and a second kitchen used just for baking.

Living across the hall from Gauree freshman year and down the hall from her sophomore year makes me even that much more excited to see what adventures junior year will bring. Whether it be dancing all night at a party, watching a movie with popcorn, or trudging to Insomnia Cookies in the dead of winter, I can always count on Gauree (and the food she brings), to be by my side no matter what. She will always be a friend, but she will forever be a sister.

p.s. Yes, Gauree does love food, but she is always fit, goes to the gym everyday, and forces me to do ab workouts (which I usually quit halfway through).

Burnt Bacon= Game Day Ragin'

What's the best night of the week? In Ann Arbor, it's Saturday morning. Complete with "dancing and singing and moving' to the grooving'", and white boys playing funky music at every frat, house, apartment, and tailgate. The city is a sea of maize, blue, and dazed and confused students sporting red solo cups filled with the finest Crystal Palace has to offer. Nothing beats the feeling of cheering for "The team the team the team" with 100,000 of your closest friends.

However, here at The Stumble Inn, we begin our game days with brunch. Complete with chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, mimosas (when the guys from down the street feel like showing up), and even sometimes bacon. What is breakfast without bacon? Nothing, apparently, because last weekend when I burnt the bacon for our Game Day brunch, I could have sworn I saw a tear or two.

When it comes to me and cooking, things never seem to go right. Most things I cook either end up burnt, in flames, on the floor, or spit out (I have pizza delivery on speed dial at this point). Not to say I don't try, I do. I just don't think I was made to use kitchen appliances. So when I was put in charge of the bacon half-way through brunch last weekend, needless to say I was already a little nervous. Things were going well at first. I flipped the bacon when I was suppose to which is an achievement in itself. However, the story comes to a sad ending when we smelled burning food ten minutes later. The bacon was black, and the smoke almost set off the fire alarm (hence the above photo of the tray of bacon cooling off outside). Once again, food 1, Cheyenne 0.

The next brunch we made, my roommates joked that I was not allowed to even put the bacon in the oven, and when I went home (to West Bloomfield) for a Jewish Holiday a few days before that, my family was hesitant to allow me to help prepare the food for family dinner. And to be honest, I am truly okay with this for now. I may need a break from the world of cooking, and I have enough skill to prepare food well enough to sustain my life.  Steamed vegetables are now microwaveable, pasta is easy to concoct, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are always a staple.

What is important to remember is that without failing a few times, you will never experience getting back up and trying again. My saga of cooking stories may never end with my appearance on "Top Chef", but they remind me that challenges in life can be fun. Although it is frustrating when my meat isn't cooked though all the way (or cooked too much), I know that there is always something else to try to cook, or always a restaurant that will deliver straight to my door.

Viewing challenges as something inspiring rather than hindering is one of the best ways to apply optimism. When it comes to college (and life for that matter), challenges are plenty. Whether it be applying to a leadership position, writing a paper, or maneuvering a computer program, it's important for us to remember that we need to support and help each other when it comes to our weaknesses. Even if it may just be cooking a chicken breast.

And in the end, isn't burnt bacon just a metaphor for game days in Ann Arbor? Smoking, sizzling, and ready for another one? Game days will always have a special place in the heart of Michigan fans, and burnt bacon will always have a special place at the Stumble Inn, as long as I am a resident.

Meet the Roomies: Lindsay

Everyone say hi to Lindsay! Lindsay is a junior in the engineering school at The University of Michigan. Not only is she studying engineering, but she is studying nuclear engineering! Woah! Yes, Lindsay is smart. Very smart. Not only is Lindsay smart when it comes to school. But she is smart when it comes to life. Lindsay knows that people should be treated with respect and kindness, and that no one is better than anyone else.

Lindsay is the type of person you meet and instantly want to be friends with because of her genuine interest in the lives of others. She's a good listener, which in turn makes her an even better friend. There have been plenty of times I have noticed myself venting to Lindsay about my life and my problems, not even realizing the things I am saying. However, being around Lindsay is comfortable, and she knows how to make someone feel lucky, happy, and included. She is willing to do what it takes to make her friends feel great, and that is why we love her.

The first time I met Lindsay was outside of the student union on campus. She was in the midst of choosing which sorority to pledge, and couldn't have been any more calm about it. While almost every other girl around us was in tears or screaming or hugging each other due to nerves, Lindsay stood there in her sneakers and jeans with her hands in her pockets, a huge smile on her face, asking if I wanted to go to Buffalo Wild Wings to get food. It was at this moment I knew Lindsay would be a fun one.

And I was right. Although she spends a lot of time working and studying, Lindsay knows how to have fun. Whether it be tailgating a football game or dancing at a fraternity house, Lindsay knows that at the end of the day, she doesn't need to take herself too seriously. While I'm not sure she knows it, I'm pretty sure her secret motto is 'work hard, play hard'.

Meet the Roomies: Lauren

Her parents call her Lauren, I call her Roomie. Lauren is a junior in the Ross School of Business at The University of Michigan. Lauren and I were introduced by our mutual best friend (Ellie) at a Taylor Swift concert when we were 15. We were friendly through high school, but decided to make our friendship official during high school senior spring break in Mexico, when Lauren and I decided to become freshman year room mates at the University of Michigan.

While Lauren and I are opposite when it comes to many things, we are perfect room mates, and even better best friends. She's the sass to my sweet and the brunette to my blonde. She put up with my massive collection of clothes, pink and sparkles in our dorm room (she's a saint for doing that). We still have crushes on Disney princes and are always willing to open a can of frosting, a box of graham crackers and have a Glee sing-along. Basically, if one of us were a boy we would be dating already.

Lauren is smart, strong, and one of the hardest workers I know. Our freshman year of college, while I embarrassingly watched nine seasons of One Tree Hill in one semester while sitting in our dorm room, Lauren spent countless late nights and early mornings at the library ensuring that she would be admitted to the Ross School of Business. And she reached her goal.

When Lauren wants something, she goes after it. It is that kind of passion that keeps me looking up to her, and thankful to have her in my life. Although she is pursuing a degree in business, her dream is to one day use that knowledge to open a non-profit to help the less fortunate. She may not always show it, but she has a giving heart, and is always there when you need a friend, a sister, or even someone to bake you a cake (her pumpkin chocolate chip cake is the best).

The best thing about having Lauren as my roommate aren't necessarily her baking skills, but it is that I know we will still be friends when we are 80, laughing about our crazy college years. We are already planning a trip to Europe after we graduate from Umich, and I can't think of a better person to have as my travel buddy.

Where There is Heart There is Home

When it comes to finding housing in Ann Arbor, nothing is easy. Even though we moved into the Stumble Inn only a short time ago, we are already on the house hunt to find a home for senior year that can accommodate more of our friends. The steps to house hunting are more complicated than one may expect. First, you must find a group of people to live with (have you ever tried to accommodate a group of girls? Not easy). Second, you must send countless emails to landlords inquiring about different properties. Third, you will want to tour you potential home (you will want to know how much mold is growing in the bathrooms and whether or not all of the burners on the stove work). Fourth, you must find a time where everyone can gather to sign a lease and go out for celebratory drinks afterwards.

So it's a process. And the more people you add to your list of roomies, the more complex the process becomes. At the moment, my friends and I are trying to accommodate 13 girls into a house for next year. Yes, you read right. 13. 12 of the girls are in the same sorority, and then there is me. Doing my own thing and dancing through life. Although I am not in their sorority, I am on cloud nine entertaining the thought of living with them next year. I love making friends and becoming close with people. They are funny, smart, hard working, and although we may need to make a few extra tacos for our family dinners next year, I couldn't be happier.

However, going through the housing process with this many girls is not easy. Everyone wants a certain room with a certain price next to a certain person. The emails are endless, and the planning can be a bit tedious. Nevertheless, we will make it work and try to accommodate everyone's needs.

The thing is though, it's this kind of situation when needs are confused with wants. I recently just lost someone near and dear to my heart. Death is something that puts your life in to perspective instantly. Suddenly, nothing in the world matters in that moment except for the people in your life closest to you. Death makes you realize what in your life are needs, and what in your life are considered extra luxuries. Not only does death put needs and wants in to perspective, but it puts time in to perspective. It allows for the realization that our time on this earth is not forever.

It allows us to to realize that we spend too much time analyzing and not enough time enjoying.

Too much time memorizing textbooks for exams and not enough time learning the material.

Too much time judging others and not enough time getting to know them.

Too much time counting calories and not enough time enjoying the taste.

Too much time worrying about how we look and not enough time worrying about what's in our head.

Too much time fighting others and not enough time listening to them.

Too much time looking for love and not enough time loving.

Too much time taking and not enough time giving.

Too much time editing ourselves in pictures and not enough time capturing the moment.

Too much time getting drunk and not enough time dancing at the party.
Too much time worrying about our hair and not enough time worrying about our health.
Too much time caring what others think and not enough time loving ourselves.
Too much time blaming and not enough time forgiving.
Too much time using and not enough time creating.
Too much time talking and not enough time listening.
Too much time thinking we are too cool and not enough time laughing at ourselves.
Too much time in front of our computers and not enough time traveling.
Too much time saving and not enough time buying shoes.
Too much time alone and not enough time with the ones we love.
Too much time telling ourselves that we have more time, because in reality, you just don't know.

In the end, how we choose to spend our time is up to us. But my philosophy has always been and will forever be, no matter what you are doing or where you are going, it is never about the destination or even the journey, but with whom the journey is taken. Living without friends, family, or love is to live without laughter, joy, or companionship. What the juxtaposition of death and finding a home in which to live has taught me that your home is not defined by where your key fits. Your home is defined by where you fit as a person. Defined by where you feel your family is. Defined by where you feel most comfortable living your life to the fullest, spending your time how you want, and being with the people who will allow you to do that. In the end, where there is family there is heart, and where there is heart there is home.

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Rest in peace Uncle Paul. Thank you for always laughing and never hiding your glowing smile. You will forever be in our hearts.

Meet the Roomies: Kayla

Or as I call her, Captain Kayla. Kayla is a junior in the nursing school at The University of Michigan. She's sassy, fun, energetic, a great dancer, loyal, honest, and really keeps the Stumble Inn a functioning home.

I met Kayla my freshman year of college, but we didn't become close friends until this past summer. Although she may try to hide it with her sassy attitude, Kayla has one of the biggest hearts out there. She is a nanny, loves children, makes sure everyone is functioning when they have had one too many drinks, and is always there when you need a friend. Kayla has helped the Stumble Inn become a family, and we couldn't thank her more.

Not only do we call her Captain Kayla, but I also refer to her as Mom. She keeps everyone on their toes when it comes to chores, she keeps in touch with our land lord, constantly has car seats in her car for when she babysits, and when she isn't turning up the music at a party, you can find her cooking in the kitchen creating her next masterpiece.

Kayla is someone that has reminded me time and time again that friends aren't just friends, they are family. Kayla is someone who has picked me up and dusted me off during a rough times, and reminded me that families are always there for each other through thick and thin. Although she has had to tell me things I don't always want to hear, I know that I can always count on her for the honest truth, and I always thank her in the end.

If you are lucky enough to every meet Kayla, don't hug her right away. Don't worry though, she will warm up. And if you are really lucky, she will make you cheesy ramen. But that, my friends, is a story for another time.

Dude, where's my couch?

Sometimes you lose your keys. Sometimes you lose your mind. Sometimes your boyfriend breaks up with you and you lose him too. But you know what, sometimes you also lose your couch. What? Yep, you even lose your couch. Well, you may not know what it feels like to lose such a massive part of your furniture collection, but the ladies of the Stumble Inn know the feeling quite well.

It was a fabulous, rainy morning on the first day of classes in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The sun was hiding, the birds were crying, and the line at the book store was out the door and around the corner. You could almost smell tears in the air. I won't sugar coat it. Classes at the University of Michigan are hard. And waking up after a week of non-stop drinking and partying during the infamous Welcome Week make the first day that much more difficult. However, if new classes, scared freshman, backordered books and snobby professors weren't enough, the ladies of the Stumble Inn lost a dear friend that morning.

After trudging home from class for lunch, I walked in to the house to discover a package of mine sitting on my front porch (To be honest, this isn't the unusual part of the story. I have a shopping problem and I am well aware of it). After excitedly picking up my package and struggling with the sticky lock on the front door, I walked in to the house to discover that our living room couch was missing! Our pride and joy. Our little baby. The place that consoles us when we have one too many "lemonades" on friday nights. The Ke$ha couch (the couch deemed this name when we moved into the house and found the couch covered with sparkles and confetti. Have you ever tried to remove sparkles and confetti from a couch? It doesn't work. So they stayed and we loved them). I closed my eyes only to open them and discover that I wasn't just seeing things, our couch was actually gone.

Being my paranoid self, I immediately thought we were robbed. Ready to call 911, I decided to take a breath instead and text my roomies. However, their responses only frightened me even more. They told me the couch had been there only an hour earlier. I started to panic and called out in the house to see if anyone was home. Not only was I alone, but I didn't have a couch to catch me when I needed to sit down from light headedness.

Confusion set in next. If my room mates didn't have anything to do with this strange disappearance, and our land lord never called to tell us he was coming to the house, what was going on? I tried to pretend that the couch was still there and I made myself  lunch. Turkey sandwiches have a way with calming nerves.

An hour later, my phone buzzed. One of the roomies, Gauree, tried to clear things up that she had called our land lord about replacing a broken coffee table. Well that makes perfect sense, right?! We call about a coffee table and he takes our couch! Yes, now we can all sleep easy. No. Wrong. So Gauree called the land lord back and found out that he was going to replace the couch, but he just decided not to tell us yet.

So the mystery was solved, but no one has any idea as to when our couch will be replaced. For now we will just have to lay some pillows on the ground, cuddle together, and hope for the best. But do you want to know the saddest part of the whole thing? We didn't even get to say goodbye to the Ke$ha couch. Rest in peace little one. You will be missed.

Let's Start at the Very Beginning

We call our house The Stumble Inn. Punny, right? We stumble in to the Stumble Inn? Our house also goes by the name The Midget Sex Store. WHAT? No, that is not a typo (we originally called ourselves The Bitches Next Door, but when someone misheard, the name changed right away). Anyway, these names probably give you some idea as to who we are. We are fun and crazy and love a good party. So we decided to throw one of these so called “good parties” when some of us moved in for the summer. And it was amazing. It was Kayla’s birthday party (Kayla lives in the Stumble Inn), and everyone had a great time playing beer pong and dancing on tables.

We thought when everyone left our house the party was over. But oh were we just so so wrong.

Three days after the party, the room mates and I (the girls living there for the summer) were minding our own business in our own rooms watching Netflix, studying, and plucking our eyebrows, when we heard a scream come from the upstairs bathroom. “AHHHHH COME QUICK!” It was Marlee. Marlee is deathly afraid of bugs, and almost peed her pants when she saw a centipede crawling around the bathroom floor. Kayla and I took care of the bug, and we thought the screams would end there.

But oh were we just so so wrong.

Just as the bug dilemma had passed, Ellen (who lives downstairs at the Stumble Inn) asked Marlee to bring her towels from our spare bedroom upstairs. Always willing to help, Marlee opened the door to the bedroom, grabbed the pile of towels, and revealed something hiding in the pile. Just then, chocolate cake rolled out of the towels and on to the floor. Chocolate cake? How did the birthday cake get in to our spare bedroom? We were trying to figure out how the chocolate cake made its way upstairs when we remembered that Kayla’s birthday cake was not chocolate. It was vanilla. We looked at each other, took a step backwards, and realized it was not cake we were looking at. It was human waste. Yes, someone used one of our bedrooms as a toilet. Marlee froze and screamed once more as she realized that the “chocolate cake” had hit her leg as it fell out of the pile of towels. We truly didn’t know what to do. What kind of person uses a bedroom as a toilet? What kind of people had been at our party? We weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It was mostly laughs that would turn in to tears and then back to laughs. We knew we had to get the “chocolate cake” out of the house, so Marlee and Zoe took the lead (my hypochondriac self decided to stay out of the room while taking pictures and videos). They put the “chocolate cake” in a box, put some carpet cleaner on the stain (we ended up steam cleaning the carpet the next day), and took it out to the garbage can. And we thought that was that.

But oh were we just so so so wrong.

As we took the box of “chocolate cake” out to the garbage cans, we realized that it was garbage night, and the trash would be picked up in the morning. This is a good thing right? They would pick up the “chocolate cake” in a few short hours and it would be gone forever. That sounds easy, but as we walked outside to take the garbage cans to the curb, it was not only starting to thunderstorm, but our garbage cans were covered with maggots. Yes, covered from top to bottom in large, white, lumpy maggots. As it started to pour rain, we realized we had to take care of the maggots. So we stood in the rain, wiping maggots off of our garbage cans, still holding the box of “chocolate cake”. We removed the maggots from the cans, and Zoe ran the cans to the curb, screaming and crying and laughing and making a complete scene that was one of the funniest things Marlee must have ever seen, because right there in our backyard comes the grand finale of our story, and Marlee (who never actually went to the bathroom after seeing the bug) peed her pants. Right there. In the rain. And there was me, taking more pictures and laughing harder than I think I ever have.

And then it was finally over.

Thankfully, Marlee is a good sport, and found the whole story to be hilarious and an amazing memory maker.

So, that’s how it all started. This is how the Stumble Inn began its journey. This should give you an idea as to who we are and what college students are capable of. Just as a side note, every party we have hosted since the “chocolate cake” incident has been an outdoor party. Because we would rather pick up red cups from our backyard than “chocolate cake” from a bedroom any day.

Meet the Roomies: Zoe

My philosophy is that it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, but whom you’re with. I love people. I love meeting new people and hearing their stories and learning about where they come from and who they are. People I decide to keep close to me are people I trust and people that inspire me to be a better Cheyenne. So I would like to introduce you to the roomies of The Stumble Inn, so they can inspire you just like they have inspired me.

Meet Zoe. Zoe lived in the Stumble Inn during the summer, and although she won’t be a permanent roomie for the school year, she already has a drawer in my room for when she decides to spend the night.

Zoe is a junior in the honors college at the University of Michigan in the school of Organizational Studies with a minor in Philosophy. She is also on the executive board of her sorority, Alpha Delta Pi.

To be honest, Zoe is probably one of the most inspirational people I have ever met. She is genuinely interested in people; she loves trying new things, enjoys soaking up the sun, never puts down her ukulele, is fun loving, and knows how to turn your frown upside down. Zoe and I met only a few short months ago and we are already best friends. From long walks, to tanning on our roof, to ditching the bars to go to the ice cream shop, we have squeezed so much in to our short friendship.  We even had a combined birthday party in July!

The fact that Zoe and I clicked so quickly reminded me that people are the key to being content and satisfied with life. Best friends don't care what you're wearing, how frizzy your hair is or whether or not you put on mascara. They only care about the ways you can make them laugh and what flavor ice cream you have in the fridge for that night's movie. College life sometimes becomes so busy that we lose track of what's important. We lose track of the fact that although we are here for an education, we are also here to find our bridesmaids, our future spouses, and the people we want to be doing wheelies on our wheel chairs with when we are 90 years old. Parties and drinking and beer pong and tail gates are all really great, but how much fun are you really going to have if the people there aren't who you want to be spending your time with? 

Zoe is a person who will remind you that tomorrow is a new day, the sun will rise again, and no matter what you’ve been through, you have a friend waiting in the light at the end of the tunnel.