Candace Neal

Something happened around 1992 that was more gripping to the young anklebiters or, dare I say, rugrats of the world, than Bill Clinton’s presidency or the separation of Prince Charles and Princess Diana or the birth of Miley Cyrus. True, the gelatinous, green substance known as “slime” had existed since the days of You Can’t Do That On Television, starring the glorious, pocketed-hand Alanis Morissette. But it was around this time that the youth of America began to cling to a Gak-laden era dressed in stirrupped leggings and Blossom hats.

It's no question that in today's tech-savvy, candy-coated, Insta-prettied, multi-tweeted, Black-Mirrored world, all. of. the. things. are. at. our. fingertips. We are droned out, swiped up, Netflixed-in, and Face(book) down in politics, pop culture, grocery deliveries, crowdsourced rides and two-day shipping. It's as majestic as it is detrimental to our human psyche, I'm sure.

I remember my senior year of high school vividly. It was a ruthless quest on my part for an untarnished GPA and a podium speech that would surely find itself woven into a Rom-Com screenplay one day. Most important of all was having an answer to the perpetual question, "Where are you going to college?" I'd almost be better off saying "I haven't decided yet" than rattling off an unknown institution. I'm fairly certain I chose my first university (yes, I said "first") purely based on my need for the approval of my elders, teachers, and peers.