Mothers and fathers have days, but parents have a weekend.

This past weekend, which was parents’ weekend, got me thinking about parents and the relationships we have with them. Even though I only got to spend just a few days with my parents, it was good to see them. But seeing them also gave me an interesting perspective on my current experience.

            I have been in Boston at Northeastern for officially eight weeks today. A lot has happened in those eight weeks. I have made many discoveries, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve smiled at new ideas, I’ve made new friends, I’ve been through quite the whirlwind of life. The exciting thing is that is hasn’t even really begun.

            The weirdest thing to me, however, is that a lot of what I’ve been doing and discovering, I can’t even begin to explain in full to my parents. My whole life my parents have been there. They always supported me in what I did, and heard about every little detail. Now I give them an overview over Skype.

College is giving my peers and me a chance to fully experience life without our parents telling where to be and when and what to do. We have to take the morals our parents gave us and jump into life headfirst. The tricky part is that our parents have to trust us enough to do that, or be wise enough to let us make our own mistakes.

            Walking through campus on Sunday, I saw parents with their children everywhere. I heard sound bites like, “I’ll be fine, dad,” and “but mom.” Yep, even though we’re in college now, we still have that attitude.  It is interesting to see where the people I’ve been around for eight weeks come from.

            Because like it or not, we all come from our parents. Love them or hate them, eventually we become them. But if it is a comfort to know, college is shaping us into unique people with unique characteristics.

            Take me for instance. I have my mother’s sweet tooth (although I’m not willing to try chocolate covered bacon), my father’s feet, but I love to write unlike my parents. And I hope that one day I have the work ethic of my mother and my father’s sense of direction. But I also can’t imagine trying to run my own business.

            The weekend was a good chance to see how my parents have been without me around. The conclusion: they are still boring, but they are my boring parents, and I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.

            So maybe we should always have a “parents’ weekend” to take the time to appreciate the little things that make our parents such an essential part of who we are and who we become. 

Above: The light house at Provincetown in Cape Cod. We went to Cape Cod for parents' weekend to escape the city and flocks of other parents at NU. 

Freshman makes paper with her first byline

This would be the headline of my story this week if one were to be written about me. I would be the freshman, and I would have some great quotes that sound very intelligent. Something like…

            “It feels great to see my name in print, even if it is a college newspaper,” said freshman journalism major Maureen Quinlan. “Everyone has to start somewhere.”

If you haven’t guessed already, this week I had my first experience as a real life journalist. I was working under deadline and felt all the pressure and stress of being a journalist.

As much as I was stressed and complained about it, I loved it. It felt exhilarating to not know if I was going to finish my story. It felt great when I got the interview I didn’t think I would. It felt amazing to talk to someone I had never met before for a quote. It felt great to see my name next to an article. It felt good to get constructive criticism.

It didn’t feel so great when I saw 50 percent of my story cut, but I understand. At least my story made it in the paper.

I wrote a story for last week’s issue, but because of space issues, it didn’t make it in. Never fear, this week it is in the Inside section where it belongs. That just means I got a double byline this week.

I felt incredibly grown up walking from place to place, getting interviews, and writing my story between classes. I felt like a real journalist.

When I realized I hadn’t started a story I was assigned a week ago, a classic Maureen freak-out began in my small dorm room. But after taking a few deep breaths, I remembered something. Isn’t this what I want to do with the rest of my life? I want that last minute assignment that goes on the front page because I got the story done in a day.

With a little encouragement from my best friend, Jenna, I decided to stop freaking out and just do it. I did that and was a lot less stressed as I put words on the page.

More than anything this week I proved to myself that I could do this. I really can do anything I put my mind to. I can be a journalist.

So check out my stories for the student newspaper, The Huntington News. My story about Alcohol Week and a story about the vintage travel poster exhibit at the Boston Public Library.

 Alcohol Week starts  

Exhibit takes viewers up, up and away

The signs at the exhibit at the Boston Public Library. 

Just my luck

They say the Irish have all the luck, but lately I haven’t been feeling so lucky. Sometimes life just serves us the worst of things, and we are left thinking, “Really, what did I do to deserve this?” But my recent bad luck has also left me with new perspectives.

            Don’t get me wrong. I know that everyone has a hard time sometimes. Life gets tough and very hard to bear at times. But the reassuring thing to remember is that the bad times won’t last forever.

            It is known that you will lose yourself at some point in your college career. Did I expect it to happen? Absolutely. Did I expect it to happen so soon? Not exactly.

            A few events in the past week have left me feeling not like myself. I wake up and wonder “Whose life I am living?” because it certainly does not feel like mine. I am not the girl who gets bullied or forgotten. I am not an unmemorable person so affected by other’s opinions.

            One thing I always loved about myself was that I never thought I cared what others thought of me. But I’m realizing that sometimes what other’s think of you does matter. The specific opinions do not matter to me. Hate me or love me, I’ll always be me. But when people express those opinions, I tend to loose it.

            I want to thank everyone near, far and in my heart who have been there for me the past few days, especially my roommate, Niki, my friends, Abbie, Chelsea, Becca, Ellie, Taylor, Seth, Jenna and Katie. And a special thanks goes to my mother who is there no matter what I did or what time of night it is. I owe my life to these people.

            But enough about my sob story. I need to remember something very important, a quote I live by, even if Marilyn Monroe said it (although she is a natural red head). “Sometimes things fall apart, so better things can fall together.”

            I have to trust that God has a plan, that this won’t last forever, that things will get better, and I will land on my feet.

            I am beginning to see what a turbulent journey college will be. Although, part of me wishes high school wasn’t getting involved. Life is a process and a rite of passage. It wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy, now would it?

I am learning by experience that I cannot control everything in my world. Sometimes my world is going to get turned upside down. I just have to deal with it in a mature and professional way, no matter how angry or hurt I am. I hope I’ve done that. If I keep my sights on the future and keep grounded in all the good things about my life, I know I will make it through.

“Someday I will be a successful and happy journalist. Today, I am a student at an amazing university in a vibrant city. And I will always have the love that surrounds me.” This will be my mantra.  

            I might have current bad luck, but the thing about luck is that it’s always changing.