Time is very tricky. While five months may not seem like a long time, a lot can happen. When I was in New York, different pieces of my life slowly (and also not so slowly) shifted or went missing completely. I’m not saying that every moment of my time in New York was a time filled with dread and doom because that is wholly inaccurate. Change can be amazing. At NYU I made new friends, learned new things and pushed myself harder than I ever had before. Working at the Metropolitan Opera was a literal dream come true. As a kid I would pretend I was onstage at the Met singing for thousands of people. Actually standing onstage was like nothing I had ever experienced.

Still, being in the City had its downsides. I couldn’t see my family. I couldn’t be there for my mother when my grandmother passed away. I couldn’t see my friends. I couldn’t accurately let them know that I was lonely. Do not be fooled; you can be alone in a city where you are constantly surrounded by people.

I appreciated and loved my time in New York, but when I left, I was happy to go. I had written a new chapter, but that chapter was over.

Driving from Tulsa to Liberty, I felt anxious. Coming back meant being thrown into my old life without the same support system as before. There was choir retreat, which normally felt like a breeze, but I didn’t know any of the music or the new members. At the same time, sorority recruitment work was underway. On top of this, I was really, really sick. All of these things made the transition harder. Every day I reminded myself that, although some things had changed, I still had a great support system; I just needed to lean on them for a while. I had the incredible Sassy Fam in ZTA, I had my friends in choir and I had my amazing roommate, all of whom were kind and held me up through my first week back.

I reached out. I asked for help. I pushed myself, but not past what I could actually handle.

There are days I do not want to be at Jewell. I would like to think that all of us have days where we do not want to be at Jewell. College is like that.

Change can suck and change can be awesome. Ultimately, whether we like it or not, people change. Relationships change. Life changes. If we didn’t change, life would be boring. So maybe leaving for a semester or a year or a summer means that your Jewell bubble is popped and you come back to a different atmosphere. Sure, you could sit and wallow in regret about the past, but you have the opportunity to get up and fight every day to be better. That’s my goal, at least: to stop being and start becoming.

The answer is complicated. Adele is not like other pop artists; she doesn’t fill tabloids, nor does she push a new album out every year. She maintains a level of secrecy, and her music is treated as a piece of art, rather than a casual release. When an album only comes out every three years, it must be special, extraordinary even. “25,” although a stellar release, is not Adele’s best. Following the release of “21,” Adele went on tour, which ended early when she suffered a vocal chord hemorrhage that required surgery. Since then, she has maintained a relatively low profile. She had a kid and seemed to grow up. Much of “25” seems to reflect this passage of time and personal growth. The album opens with “Hello,” an aching tune about connecting with an ex-lover after a number of years. The lyrics pine for a time of innocence, a time before heartbreak. The next track, “Send My Love (To Your New Lover)” seems to contradict her previous statements in a more acoustic and pop-like vibe. She feels more confident, and this song is one of the only happy tracks on the album.

“25” is about heartbreak, longing, and growing up, three things on which Adele is the resident musical expert. Adele is unmatched in her ability to communicate human emotion, specifically with love and loss. There is something universal about her lyricism; she taps into the deepest parts of the heart and turns vulnerability into power. Still, three albums of pining love songs seems a bit much, and many modern music listeners want something new. Regardless, the album is so artfully crafted that most snobs can let the corniness go and enjoy it as is. Stand out tracks include “When We Were Young,” “Remedy” and “All I Ask”—the last of which was written with Bruno Mars and tells the haunting story of a woman who knows it is the last night of her relationship.

If we are all being honest with ourselves, at some point we’ve all locked ourselves in a room and blasted Adele to have a good cry. This album will have you missing people you’ve never met. So pour yourself a glass of wine, turn the lights down low, put “25” on and let it happen. 4 out 5 stars.

What began as a series of guest appearances on podcasts like “Comedy Bang! Bang!,” where Lapkus proved herself a hilarious and flexible performer, led to an offer to head her own show. Lapkus was initially uncomfortable with the idea of hosting a show, but when her husband suggested that she could be the guest every week, “With Special Guest Lauren Lapkus” was born.

This may come across as strange at first. If the guest is the same every week, where is the variety? However, the setup of the show is extremely fluid, covering a different “topic” each week. What’s more is that Lapkus and her guest hosts create new characters with every episode, so the possibilities seem endless.

What is best about the show is that Lapkus is able to create characters wholly unlike herself. On camera, she mostly fits into the same trope of the quiet, cute and sometimes-sassy sidekick. Though she has stolen many a scene on “Orange is the New Black,” she does not get to flex every comedy muscle she possesses.

On “With Special Guest,” however, she’s not on screen, which allows for freedom to create memorable characters like Traci Reardon, a 17 year-old with butt piercings, a mohawk and two jobs at Baskin Robbin’s 31 Flavors and Claire’s—a boutique for girls; Ho-Ho the elf, a genderless elf from the North Pole with a fantastically naughty mouth; and Rachel Rachel-Stoyd, one half of a gymnastic/acrobatic duo with dark past regarding the Grand Canyon. Her guest hosts have similar freedom that is unique to podcasting: the ability to be whomever they want without regard to physicality.

Photo courtesy of Ear Wolf, from left to right: Erin Whitehead, Lauren Lapkus, Mary Holland

This setup works best when Lapkus is paired with a host with whom she has established rapport. The best episodes feature her improv group “Wild Horses,” composed of Erin Whitehead, Stephanie Allynne, Mary Holland and Lapkus, with whom she has worked for years. Each of the women fills a specific trope that has created many memorable scenes and characters, smashing ideas of gender roles and challenging all who dare say women can’t be funny.

If you’re just starting out listening to the show, an excellent place to begin is episode one “Public Domain with Paul F. Tompkins.” Tompkins, another popular improv podcaster, plays a version of himself, and his guest is a character Lapkus created on “Comedy Bang! Bang!,” Traci Reardon, who you can, and probably should, follow on twitter. Reardon appears in every episode following, offering the sage advice only a 17 year-old can. Other great episodes include Kate Berlant’s “Healthy You,” Mary Holland and Erin Whitehead in “Sister Speak with Sheila and Margo” and Stephanie Allynne in “The Jillian Palmer Arbonne Podcast.”

When I left my dorm room, I walked five minutes to reach my classroom. The line at the beak never felt too long, and even when it was, I never risked tardiness. I knew people in every class. Anywhere I went on campus was filled with friendly faces. I got to see Dr. Dema’s smiling face and catch up with her in the union. I sang with the Jazz Band. I talked with my sorority sisters. I never felt lonely.

But that was William Jewell College, not New York University. Last semester I was itching to get off campus, dreaming of my semester away from a small town school, losing my identity and finding some true sense of self. I thought that spending my fall semester in New York City would forge a new journey in my academic and professional career (and it has). However, I was not thinking about switching from a campus of 1,000 students to that of 60,000 students. I was not thinking about leaving my friends, clubs, and activities. I was not thinking about all the things I would miss: yummy PLC cookies, holidays on the Hill, the Hilltop Monitor.

New York City casts a kind of magic unique unto itself. It is both a paradise and a hellhole. I don’t wish to paint some romantic ideal of a small town girl finding her way in the big city, but I also don’t want to make the administration concerned about my well being (I’m totally fine). New York is special. New York is my home (for now).

Classes at NYU are not unlike those at Jewell. My professors obsess over their subjects and speak with conviction about the deep love held for their craft. It is charming and fascinating watching them geek out over certain concepts and to share the excitement that comes with slowly understanding one of their lectures. I sit in small-ish rooms with 12 to 20 other people and we go back and forth about capitalism, appropriation, environmentalism and various forms of music making. I get to consider how different religions interact with our environment, how art activism is leading revolutions in Iran, how failure in music isn’t always a bad thing, and how music in Africa is not at all how we romanticize it. Though there is no PLC to run to after class or a twin bed to nap on, there is a Korean supermarket with delicious ice cream and a study floor with student artwork on display that is unpopulated and perfect for paper writing. I feel fully immersed in academia at NYU, enjoying a specificity and quirkiness that Jewell lacks.

NYU offers a wide array of programs, and because of that they also have a wide range of classes. When I sit in my African Music course, I wish I could invite the entire Jewell music department to dance with the guest Senegalese musicians and myself, laughing and singing praise music in the djéli/griot tradition. I imagine the looks on everyone’s faces as they open themselves up to new, non-western styles and the context behind them. It cannot happen at Jewell, with a program of fewer than 40 students and 10 professors. It can happen at NYU, with dozens of professors and programs like Africana, music and other individualized studies that number more than the entire population of Jewell. I feel lucky to experience the obscure but vital studies I cannot get at Jewell, but I still recognize the wonderful and rich tutorials I had with professors who cared deeply about my studies.

Jewell specializes in creating super-humans capable of being in six clubs, Greek life, three choirs, a leadership program and acting as a Resident Assistant. I don’t think anyone means to stretch themselves that thin, but Jewell makes it seem possible. NYU has three times the number of organizations but one third of the participation. There is not a real sense of community in a population so vast. Clubs are made to make the massive campus smaller. Therefore, most people are only in one or two activities outside of the academic sphere. I have to admit the break from social responsibility has felt incredible. Do you know what I have to do on Monday nights? Make myself dinner and read articles for my Tuesday class. It is marvelous. I watch Netflix with my dog! I can have a dog! However, I do miss late nights talking in the PLC with Pryor Fellows and the excitement on Friday mornings when the Monitor goes live on the website. I miss Jewell’s community. It is so special and real. If you glean anything from this article, please understand that no college does community like William Jewell.

What NYU may lack in student life it more than makes up for with the sheer amount of activity that happens on and around campus. This may be a shock to some of you, but New York City is more exciting than Liberty, Mo. I say this with a lot of love for Seva and the Retro Bowl: NYC is the coolest place on earth. At any given moment, there is live music happening, an art gallery opening, a new show playing, a free screening of a film; the list goes on and on. Since moving here I have partied with the mean girl from “Sabrina the Teenage Witch” (Jenna Leigh Green), participated in AfroBeat concerts at Le Poisson Rouge with Orlando Julius and dog sat for a Tony Award nominee. I have the opportunity to see shows on Broadway, visit famous museums for free and sit in the nicest parks just to watch the leaves change and see dogs go by. The opportunity here is vast, ready for someone to come along and take it all in.

I miss Jewell every day. There is always a moment when I wish I had my best friend to talk to late at night while watching Netflix, or a craving for a peach green tea right around 10:15 a.m., a hall event making shakes or to be able to see the Lighting of the Quad. I’ve had to make new traditions, but I cannot wait to see my friends again in January and hold them tight and tell them all about the time I walked across the street with Anderson Cooper and his beautiful blue eyes.