Congratulations freshmen, you’ve made it through your first two weeks of college. By now, you should be able to navigate around the campus and even to Rite Aid. You’re figuring out the differences between college and high school, such as leaving whenever you finish an exam, and you’re feeling a little less intimidated by your new professors.

But let’s face it, you probably aren’t thinking about your classes very much. Between the parties, the movies, the lax liquor laws, your newfound freedom and all your new friends, who has time to worry about …what’s that class called again? Intro to Philosophy?

Most of you probably did not bring your mothers along to remind you to eat three square meals a day and nag you about your schoolwork. In fact, you are probably dodging calls from your parents like it’s your job, relieved to skip class freely and eat all the Totino’s Pizza Rolls Wolfbucks can buy.

But your mother was onto something. If you don’t learn to watch yourself, by the time Loup Garou rolls around in November, you’ll find the “freshman fifteen” bulging over the low-slung waist of your brand new hip-huggers and your mid-term grades as dismal as a windowless classroom in Monroe.

If the idea of attending class regularly, keeping up with coursework, staying in from the bars several nights a week, and following something resembling the food pyramid seems a bit overwhelming, don’t attempt to mend your lifestyle all at once. Force yourself to sit through that 2:30 Friday class. Stay home from Quill’s on your least favorite drink special nights and study, because no one expects you to give up Tiny Beer Night.

Try to eat at least one meal every weekend in the Orleans Room by joining the bleary-eyed legions on Saturday and Sunday mornings at brunch and discussing the previous night’s debauchery.

You’ll find that, over time, eating the meals on your meal plan instead of gorging on cheese sticks in the C-Store starts to come naturally. You start showing up to that 8:30 Monday class, even if you’re a little hung over, without wrestling with the urge to stay in bed when 8 a.m. rolls around – even if you are secretly fantasizing about where you’re going to go out to during the week throughout class.

But don’t do it for me. That meal plan you’re not eating costs even more per semester than those textbooks you’re not reading, and I’m sure the memory of your grand total in the bookstore has not faded so quickly.

According to some estimates, skipping one class period costs nearly $80. Is that extra hour of sleep really worth that $80? And I am not interested in the excuse that you are going to Loyola for free. Whether it’s you, your parents, a scholarship, the government, or loans, someone is financing your school. Someone is paying your professors to teach you, the staff in the OR to feed you, and the custodial staff to clean up after you.

As compelling and prevalent as the “too much of something is just enough” college philosophy is, I recommend one more aligned with what Buddha taught, something I learned by attending my Ethics class. The middle way.

Beer pong can wait until you’ve done your schoolwork. Everything in moderation.