The first time around, I swore I was ready for it.

Boy, was I wrong.

Leaving high school and coming to Penn State seemed like a natural progression. Incredible campus. A quality education. A good football team (well, at least for two out of my four years). Forty-thousand fellow students.

Talk about culture shock.

I tried to deal with the typical moving-to-college problems -- that I was far away from my friends, my serious high school girlfriend, and the indie rock band that had been such a big part of my life (OK, maybe that one's not so typical).

Add in the fact that this place was a little different than I expected it to be -- I remember being completely puzzled as I thought to myself, "They all go out on Wednesday nights here?" -- and I was officially a mess.

Then it all hit the fan. Relationship ends. Band breaks up. School sucked.

I had it all figured out, too. I was going to go back home to Buffalo, N.Y., and attend school for physical therapy, or something like that.

My exit strategy was written out.

And then something remarkable happened -- I grew up.

I realized it was OK to have fun again. To be myself. To not be afraid to try something new.

I'll never forget that first time my lips tasted a beer -- it was a picturesque moment, really. Smelly frat guys, a dead party and a warm Natty Light.

And it was great.

I joined the Collegian, which was probably the best decision I ever made.

I remember laughing as some of the Collegian veterans told stories about how the newspaper became their life at Penn State and swearing that it would never happen to me.

Oops. So much for that.

But I'm glad it has. I've met some of the nicest and most hilarious people I'll ever see in my life at this place. Besides, where else can you see some of your colleagues hop on stage at a strip club and, um, dance?

It just took me a little while to find how exactly how great Happy Valley can be.

But that's not to say I'd like to stay here forever.

I would rather do something really appalling -- like root for those jerks over at Ohio State -- than be one of those 40-year-old drunks at the 'Gaff on a football weekend, hitting on everything that moves. (You know you've all seen them before.)

I've realized that Penn State -- or maybe even college in general -- is a lot like a fantasy land. I mean, when else in your life can you take classes two or three days a week, sleep in until noon every day and live at the bars in your free time?

That's not to say there's something wrong with that.

It's absolutely fantastic -- for four years. Or in my case, three and a half.

While talking with one of my old friends from Buffalo who visited last week, we exchanged horror stories about how difficult this semester had turned out to be.

And how it almost felt like something was missing.

What's missing for the two of us was something truly meaningful.

College is a blast -- but when you spend most of your spare time screwing around on Facebook, listening to the new Minus the Bear CD and watching old Family Guy episodes, you know it wouldn't hurt to add a little more depth to your life.

And I don't think I'm the only one who feels that way.

But that's OK. Besides, what's college but a giant transition anyway?

Unlike when I left for Penn State, this time I'm absolutely positive I'm ready for something new.

I'm ready for a change.

Now what exactly that change is? If only it were that easy.

I'd be perfectly happy covering a sports team for some newspaper in Anytown, U.S.A. (preferably a town that has streetlights, though).

I would love to have a nomadic style of life, touring the country while playing the drums in some rock 'n' roll band.

Much to my mother's dismay, it would be a dream to make a living playing poker in some dingy casino in Las Vegas (sorry, Mom).

But either way, I know I'll be ready for whatever comes my way.

I've learned more about myself over the last couple of years than I ever thought was possible. And as for that, I have no regrets.

As my childhood idol Eddie Vedder once sang: "There's much more than this ... much more than this."

You know what?

I think he's right.