On a horrendously hot day in early September, I found myself basking not only under the sun but in the non-suburban, collegiate atmosphere for the first time since early May. A flutter of thoughts crossed my mind as I sauntered down Comm. Ave. "Ah, quaint Warren Towers, how you have not changed. Hey, what happened to those futuristic Svedka advertisements? Wait... does that sign say "Still a virgin'?"

I was one of the 2,249,026 people who voted in Massachusetts' 2010 Senatorial Special Election. If my vote were a single grain of rice, that election would weigh approximately 78 pounds.

Hello Class of 2014. If you are reading this right now it probably means you are in one of your very first lectures. It also probably means you have not yet discovered that there are better things to do than read this column, like the crossword puzzle or sudoku. While I still have your attention, however, I would like to give you some advice. All freshmen ask the exact same questions when they enter college and so prepared for you is a Freshman FAQ to help get your next four years off to a good start. Remember, there is no such thing as a stupid question, just annoyingly clueless freshmen.??

It may come as a surprise to you, but columns tend to take me a while to write and I actually like to put some thought into them. The question I am asked most by adoring fans &-&- in my own mind &-&- is "How do you come up with ideas?" I really don't want to totally give away my secret but if you have ever watched "Deal or no Deal" my method is like a much more complicated version of that. Of course, I am always open to ideas and friends and family like to try and offer some. I also receive quite a few emails and comments from strangers giving me suggestions. Of course, usually they are suggesting I should just put my pen down and commit Seppuku because the world would simply be a better place without my "idiotic spewing." I haven't quite figured out how to angle a column out of that one, but I am working on it. Unfortunately, I do have to reject quite a few ideas each week and I want to share some of the different column topics that didn't make it to press.

School was always a standby. Since I was five and learned how to color from Mrs. Cartwright, I've always considered myself a student. It defined me. I was a sponge, as my fifth-grade teacher Mr. Meil told me, ready to "soak up" the information of the world. By seventh grade I had learned algebra, and how to toss my sharpened pencil to ensure it stuck in the ceiling.

I have this recurring nightmare about my citizenship test. In it, a stern, glasses-clad judge stares down upon me from up high in a dark and desolate court room. A lone spotlight illuminates my prison garb while I am forced to answer questions about my previous incidences of unpatriotic behavior. A scathing jury comprised of Glenn Beck, Mitch McConnell and the dead corpse of Ronald Reagan, among others, looks on taking notes.

Summer beckons, but almost too soon. I never thought I'd say that. I guess Asher Roth got it right &- I, too, want to go to college for the rest of my life. Thus, I'm trying to squeeze every bit that I can out of my first year at Boston University before I have to head home to Nowhereville. Never mind my un-Asher Roth-like lifestyle &- college, it seems, doesn't allow for dull evenings no matter what the circumstances.

Over the past few months, I've focused on the concept of the citizen. Each is an individual, and placed in a collective group, he or she can act as part of whole. The protean nature of the citizen defines the progress of a nation. Here in the United States, the citizen exists to his or her fullest as this dualistic entity.

Now I may be biased, by which I mean spoiled, but I'm pretty sure there isn't anything to eat on the Boston University's main campus. Here I'm not including anything west of the BU Bridge, especially that area lush with new establishments, the best of national and local chains. I'm not talking, either, about those who are furnished with a meal plan, which, however meager, disqualifies them from being able to eat guilt-free anywhere else. I'm speaking mostly for, as Julia Child put it, the servant-less American cook, though here servant-less most nearly means parentless. So as we rush to class, we might have time for cereal and we might not have time to pack anything else.

For the past week the big tissue on campus has been the Student Union Erections and it is impotent for all Boston University students to vote in order to make their vices heard. It is amazing how a few typos can really change the meaning of a sentence. As much as I am sure you would like to learn what a "Student Union Erection" is, one of those words obviously does not belong. Typos are one of the greatest fears of the writing world, and as a columnist, I live in constant dread that a wrong keystroke could lead to the shameful loss of all my hard-earned credibility. Well, I guess I actually need to have credibility in the first place in order to lose it, but I presume that seeing your journalistic integrity flushed down the toilet because you wrote an article about President Osama would be pretty embarrassing.

On Saturday, 65 teams converged in four different apartments around the Boston University campus to partake in America's college pastime: beer pong.The tournament, set up just like College Basketball's March Madness &-&- and astutely named April Madness &-&- was set up via Facebook and included 130 people.Each team paid $10, allotting $450 for the winner and $200 for the runner-up.

Because something is happening hereBut you don't know what it isDo you, Mister Jones?&- Bob Dylan, "Ballad of a Thin Man"I had been following the story of the Tea Partiers for a while &- studying...