Weaving around a frantic mother trying to corral her younger children, I swing my Trader Joe’s grocery basket down the aisle and ogle at the bounty of snacks bursting from the shelves: Pizza Seasoned Crackers, Sweet Plantain Chips, Organic Cacio e Pepe Puffs. 

I didn’t intend to shop for such eclectic food, but face-to-face with Super Seedy Cheese Snack Bites, I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life. I hastily grab a bag from the shelf, my mouth watering. 

By the time I reach the checkout, my basket is so heavy I am struggling to keep balance.

“How are you today?” the cashier asks. While I’m mostly focused on how to jam all the sweet potatoes I just bought into my backpack, I maintain a friendly conversation and nearly gasp in surprise when the bill is only $25.

Trader Joe’s first opened in Pasadena, California and now has hundreds of stores across the United States. Relying primarily on word-of-mouth advertising, the company has turned itself into a bonafide cultural icon. 

It offers food products seldom sold in conventional grocery stores, with more than 80% of its products exclusive to the Trader Joe’s label. There’s a podcast, a Reddit page with 335,000 members and even unofficial cookbooks. 

Convenient and affordable, Trader Joe’s is far and away my favorite place to buy groceries around the University of Minnesota. 

It’s easy to assume a store selling canned Grecian-style eggplants would be expensive, but most items I put into my basket cost less than $3. Trader Joe’s buys most of its products directly from manufacturers, eliminating the middleman and maintaining low food prices. Their stores are also relatively small, which occasionally leads to overcrowding but makes for an easier shopping experience and cuts costs even further. 

Gone are the days of wandering helplessly through my hometown Fresh Thyme looking for dried lentils. There are only a handful of aisles at the Trader Joe’s location on Washington Avenue, so I can cross off my grocery list with ease.

Yve Spengler, a third-year student at the University, said she relies on Trader Joe’s for saving money on grocery runs.

“I’ll end up getting meat at Target and then everything else at Trader Joe’s, because usually everything is cheaper there,” Spengler said.

These savings are no joke. According to a survey from Consumers’ Checkbook, prices at Trader Joe’s were 19% less on average than those at other surveyed stores like Whole Foods and Target.

Another unique aspect of Trader Joe’s is its employees. 

The employees are the kind of people who will compliment me if I wear a Lorde t-shirt or tell me how much they love the Non-Dairy Pumpkin Oat Beverage I’m about to buy. The cashiers always ask about my day, which leads to a pleasant, if not borderline flirtatious, encounter.

“It’s different from Target where it’s self-checkout, so you go in and you’re on your own and don’t really interact with anyone,” Spengler said. “Whereas at Trader Joe’s, you’re interacting with actual people. They really take the time to see you.”

Naomi Rivera, another third-year student who relies on Trader Joe’s for groceries, said an employee once called another store to ask if her favorite product, coffee-boba ice cream, was in stock.

“It made me feel valued,” Rivera said. “They went out of their way to provide me with that service.”

No matter where you live on campus, Trader Joe’s is an easy commute. The U.S. Bank light rail stop is only two blocks away, and the Route 3 bus stops right out front. 

“The 3 is a godsend,” Rivera said, as she often rides it when carrying heavy groceries or if she doesn’t feel like walking. 

The bus works its way through Como and Dinkytown, past Bruininks Hall and then goes west down Washington Avenue until it reaches Trader Joe’s. From Jones-Eddy circle, the ride takes only eight minutes. 

Target may be closer to campus, but Trader Joe’s is well worth the short hike. While stores like Fresh Thyme in Prospect Park are known for organic and natural food options, Trader Joe’s has plenty of healthy foods. 

Both Spengler and Rivera noted the abundance and quality of produce that puts the Dinkytown Target to shame. When I walked in the other night, all they had were a few bruised-up peaches, whereas Trader Joe’s never fails to showcase nature’s bounty.

“Not going out of my way to try to get good food is really helpful,” Rivera said.

The only part of Trader Joe’s that disappoints me was the company’s rejection of my request to interview a store manager. 

“I can’t offer an interview, our Crew is busy supporting our customers in their stores,” read the sloppily-worded email from their public relations department. Alas, even Trader Joe’s can’t be saved from corporate America. 

Nonetheless, whether you’re in the mood for some Savory Squash Pastry Bites or just pantry staples, Trader Joe’s is the place to go. Just do not buy all their Mini Mochi Rice Nuggets before my next grocery run.

Daffodils are blooming and the temperatures are teasing warmer days to come. In the Land of 10,000 Lakes, spring has sprung.

After an unusually mild winter, the transition to spring may feel less jarring than most years, yet the moment when bare trees erupt in shades of green never fails to shock me. 

Having spent two years at the University of Minnesota, I’ve noticed people in Minneapolis love to complain about the weather. Since spring is full of fluctuating temperatures and unwieldy rainstorms, the disdain is no surprise. April and May are also peak allergy season, which is discouraging for stuffy-nose sufferers after months of staying inside to avoid the cold.

Katie Papador, a third-year student at the University, hates spring. 

“It’s really cold, and you’re kind of going back and forth from jackets and short sleeves, and everyone gets sick because you’re not wearing a coat,” Papador said.

When I tell people spring is my favorite time of year, I’m often met with passionate disagreement. But despite all the tribulations the season provides, it offers a heavy dose of delight after months of frigid and cloudy days.

While Papador staunchly opposed my love for the season, she admitted the transition out of winter can be refreshing towards the end of the semester.

“It’s kind of nice after literally pouring my entire heart and soul into all of my work to go outside and be like, ‘Oh, it’s 60 degrees,’ and then rip off my three-day-old sweatpants and reveal my hairy legs for the world to see,” Papador said. “It’s like I give my whole body a breather.”

Kelsey Griffin, the gallery programs coordinator for the Bell Museum, offered a different perspective. As a bird enthusiast, she enjoys watching robins and red-winged blackbirds return to the Twin Cities as temperatures rise. She said spring is her favorite season.

“It’s such a long winter, and once you get through all of that you start to get these day-by-day and week-by-week nuances to the season as everything transitions over to summer in really nice, timekeeping detail,” Griffin said. “That’s really helpful for us, especially after coming out of winter.”

While Griffin loves watching birds return, I often study the trees as they come out of dormancy. From the dangling flowers of cottonwoods to the copious rose-hued blooms of crabapples, the vernal season offers woody plants at their most extravagant. Although often small in size, flowers bloom on nearly every campus tree during spring, providing a plethora of opportunities to watch buds burst into beautifully intricate shapes and colors.

“There’s so many openings for noticing,” Griffin said. 

Griffin said broadening our understanding of the natural world can foster a deeper sense of connection to our surroundings, which is especially important for people living in urban areas.

It can be hard this time of year to notice anything other than the unpredictable weather. I went for a bike ride in a T-shirt and shorts the other day, basking in the afternoon sun, but once I was six miles from campus rain clouds rolled in and soaked me from head to toe. My hands were so numb I could barely lock up my bike when I reached my apartment. What began as an afternoon pleasure cruise turned into a soaking-wet nightmare.

When the weather turns sour for yet another weekend, I try to focus on how amazing life will feel when the sun comes out again. 

“We get that spring feeling like seven times,” Griffin said. 

Jean Larson, the faculty lead in nature-based therapies at the Bakken Center for Spirituality and Healing, said the positive feelings we experience during spring come from our inherent love of the earth — a concept called biophilia. As humans, we have an innate tendency to seek out nature as a source of refuge, beauty and spiritual connection. For me, this often manifests as a breath of fresh air along the Mississippi River.

“In springtime, all the little microbes and good bacteria awaken in the soil — you can even smell ‘spring’ when walking in a forest,” Larson said.

This smell comes from a molecule called geosmin, which gives the soil an earthy scent after a spring rainstorm. Larson referenced the idea that microorganisms found in the soil are essential to ecological as well as human health, which could explain why we find the smell of geosmin so pleasant and refreshing.

If you’re still spiteful of spring, maybe you’re the one to blame. Mother Nature has been going about her business ever since the earth started revolving around the sun — who are we to complain? 

It’s a typical afternoon in the life of a University of Minnesota student: You’ve sat through lectures since 9 a.m. and finally made it back to your apartment with your feet aching after walking over miles of concrete. Your thoughts are swirling and your body feels ready to shut down, but you still have a heavy load of assignments to complete before the end of the day. 

Then the narrative changes. In an act of rebellion against your homework-loving professors, you lace up your gym shoes and trudge to the Recreation and Wellness Center.

As you begin your workout, each stride on the elliptical feels like climbing a mountain. Your legs are screaming for a memory foam mattress, but you push on. As you settle into the groove of the music blasting in your earbuds, your body loosens up.

Suddenly, you’ve never been moving so quickly. Your heart is pounding, your breath shaky. The machine takes hold and you want to keep moving with it until your chest explodes. A tingling sensation ripples across your skin, an energy that seems to lift your body off the cardio room floor and into the heavens. 

When you return to your apartment, sweaty and stinky, you sit down at your desk and power through math problems and readings with newfound vigor. You marvel at the subtle beauty of confidence intervals in your statistics homework and gawk at the thoughtful prose of your literary nonfiction book. 

Life, you realize, isn’t so bad after all.

It confounds and concerns me when people fail to include exercise in their daily routine. Sure, heading to the gym might feel like the worst possible decision after a long day of classes, but I’ve never regretted making the effort. 

Yet, for many students, exercise is a concept saved for New Year’s resolutions. You’ll start going to the RecWell next semester or whenever you aren’t so bogged down with chemistry homework. You’re already exhausted anyway, so why tire yourself out even more?

Amber Walker, cofounder and head trainer of Happy Human, a company providing in-home personal training in the Twin Cities area, said aerobic exercise can actually increase your energy level.

When you push yourself to the point where you are slightly out of breath, you stimulate chemical reactions in the body that can promote mood, improve sleep and wake you up.

“A general uplift is often the case for people who are getting regular aerobic activity,” Walker said. 

Walker said some of her clients carve out moments during the day to get their heart rate up, like taking the stairs to a bathroom on another floor, which provides a small boost of motivation. As your cardiovascular system becomes stronger, small activities like rushing to class or work become easier, making your body better equipped to handle stress. 

As college students, many of us walk to class, but physical activity only counts as aerobic exercise if you feel out of breath, according to Walker. In other words, strolling over to your morning lecture (unless you plan on running) won’t cut it. 

Walker said finding an activity that makes you happy and tires you out is crucial for developing a sustainable exercise routine. I love the elliptical, but if you hate cardio machines, you’re better off trying something else. 

“If you’re forcing yourself to do something and you hate it the whole time, your body is likely to interpret that as a bad stress,” Walker said. “Don’t use movement as punishment. Use it as a joyful expression.”

Adam Justin, the president of the Minnesota Running Club, said his organization encourages students to enjoy spending time with friends while exercising consistently.

“We’re having that time to do something that we all love and turn our brains off a little bit,” Justin said.

We all know how difficult it can be to drag ourselves to the gym, so relying on the encouragement of friends can be a powerful motivator. 

Justin said he sees a significant benefit to running with other people.

“I found that having a conversation while I’m running with somebody I know makes other things hurt less and kind of takes your mind off some of the difficulties,” Justin said.

The University offers many intramurals, club sports and fitness classes that allow students to engage in physical activity while building community. No matter who you are, there is a space on campus where you can enjoy exercise.

So why are you still slouching on the sofa? Even if you’re cramming for finals, you can certainly take 10 minutes to run around the block. 

You may not levitate off the ground, but I promise you’ll feel a bit lighter.

It was the first day of dance rehearsal and I looked at the line of dancers in front of me ready to strut across the floor.

“All right everyone, let’s start with sassy walks!” 

My stomach lurched. I shifted awkwardly in the third row, dreading the inevitable moment when I would put myself and my now-threatened masculinity on display. 

Before coming to the University of Minnesota, I had only danced within the confines of my childhood bedroom. In a leap far outside my comfort zone, I joined the Dance Collective, a studio-style dance club open to students of all skill levels. 

It’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

As I walked across the floor during that first rehearsal, I tried to sway my hips a bit but couldn’t get my arms to move away from my sides. My face flushed red with embarrassment. I wanted to move like everyone else but felt too restrained by what I deemed appropriate for my male body. 

Cheng Xiong, a technical director of the dance program at the University, said he recognizes the struggles of men who feel out of place in dance communities, even though he grew up dancing.

“There are still a lot of people who are stuck in the past of, ‘Men don’t do that. Men should not be like this. Men should not be like that,’” Xiong said. “No man is alone in these things that they question and challenge or feel embarrassed about.”

Xiong said to lean into the discomfort and see where it goes. 

My sassy walk may not have impressed RuPaul, but I made it to the other side of the room without fleeing to the bathroom in shame. As the semester continued, I pushed myself at every rehearsal to make my movements more expressive. Eventually, I began to feel comfortable with the choreography.

“What truly matters is how you feel and how you want to feel,” Xiong said. “At the end of the day, you are your main character. Focus on that to drive yourself to be expressive and do what you want to do, whether it’s uncomfortable or whether it’s comfortable.”

By leaning into my discomfort, what began as an opportunity to dance to the fantastically absurd “Judas” by Lady Gaga also became a way to boost my self-confidence. After a few months, I evolved from a stiff and awkward newbie to a stuff-strutting stage performer at the end-of-semester showcase. 

Dance became so fun that I stopped caring about my appearance and focused instead on the exciting new ways I could move my body.

But joining the Dance Collective did more than unbind me from traditional views of masculinity. It taught me how dance can serve as a form of self-exploration, community building and joy.

Zoe Grubbs, a retired marketing and advertising professional who lives near the Twin Cities, said dance has revolutionized how she views movement and physical fitness.

Grubbs used to rely on conventional gym routines for exercise until she started taking yoga classes. She eventually discovered “ecstatic dance,” a free-form meditation practice where a community comes together and moves in rhythm with music. Talking is often prohibited, as participants rely on their bodies and shared energy to communicate.

“What mattered was that I could be with my breath and I could follow movement as it made sense to me in that moment, regardless of what everybody else was doing,” Grubbs said. “My thinking brain kind of shut down and my creative brain opened up and I was connected with my body and I was connected with the music and I was connected with the flow.”

Grubbs is transgender and said dance helped her feel accepted and validated her gender identity when she transitioned.

“When you share an energetic space on the dance floor with somebody, and that little moment of magic happens with the music and the movement and the colors and everything else happening around you, you feel seen,” Grubbs said. 

While attending an ecstatic dance program remains unchecked on my Minneapolis bucket list, I too have witnessed the power of dancing with other people. Whether starting an impromptu dance-off at a basement show or doing a little jig in front of Coffman Union with my friends after class, I’ve learned that humans don’t always need words to connect. 

Dance can also be a powerful way to connect with yourself.

“A lot of people are taught that meditation is a thing that monks do where you sit without moving for hours upon hours upon hours and do everything you can to keep your mind still, which in a way is kind of antithetical to the way the body and the mind are built,” Grubbs said. “I see dance as the opposite of that. It’s basically saying, ‘I can be in meditation any time.’”

Simply paying attention to how my body wants to move instead of how it should move allows me to connect with my physical self and literally shake away stress. Boosting my mood and preparing myself for the day ahead is often as simple as dancing to one song before I leave for class. 

But don’t just take it from me. If you want to liberate your body, you’ve got to move it. 

I catch a brief moment of airtime as the Campus Connector barrels down the pothole-ridden transitway. I’m riding the bus to class and holding onto the railing above me for dear life. 

The driver careens around corners, tilting the bus at a near 45-degree angle. The students around me are packed together like sardines in a maroon-and-gold tin can. When we come to a sudden stop at an intersection, I collide with the girl standing next to me. 

While my armpits are sweaty and I feel close to death, I’m relatively at ease. Not only will I get to class on time today, but thanks to the rampageous bus driver, I’ll have time to spare. 

Route 121 — the Campus Connector — is the bus that takes students around the University of Minnesota. For those too burdened by finances or environmental guilt to own a car, the 121 is the inevitable mode of transit to get to the St. Paul campus. 

As an environmental science, policy and management major, I ride the Campus Connector to and from the St. Paul campus four days a week. Given there are 15 weeks of classes every semester, that’s a minimum of 120 bus rides per semester and, not counting wait times, 40 hours spent commuting. 

Despite the inconvenience, unpredictability and existential fear the bus adds to my life, it’s one of my favorite parts of the University.

It’s hard to ignore the beauty of Route 121 as it passes over the sweeping Mississippi River Valley, along the sun-drenched ruins of grain elevators in Prospect Park and through the heart of the St. Paul campus. Thanks to the oversized windows, I’ve spent many tired mornings basking in the sun as the bus rattles its way down Washington Avenue. 

Amelia Johnson is a second-year student who rides the Campus Connector to the St. Paul campus five days a week. While she usually enjoys her daily commute, she said she disapproves of other students’ behavior.

“When it’s really, really packed in the mornings, sometimes someone will be standing by a pole and there’ll be a bunch of room where they could squish in further, and they just don’t,” Johnson said.

While many could use a lesson on bus etiquette (and direct communication), Johnson’s frustrating experiences make the bus a point of connection, or contention, among students.

Where else can you and a couple of strangers give sideways looks to a guy taking up four seats (one for his backpack, one for his coat, one for his feet, and another for his butt) and make faces at the bus driver who yells, “If one more of you gets on the bus, I’m not driving”?

The on-board chaos may seem uncomfortable, but an angry bus driver can wake you up in the morning faster than a cup of coffee. While I walk over to the bus stop dreading a long day on the St. Paul campus, I’m often so excited to get off the Campus Connector that I look forward to sitting in class.

Jiale Zhang is another second-year student who, like Johnson, takes the Campus Connector every day. She often leaves for class as the bus approaches the Transitway and 23rd Avenue SE stop, which is closest to her apartment, and sprints down the sidewalk to catch it.

Her determination led her to meet George, who Zhang described as her favorite bus driver. One day when she missed the bus, she ran to the next stop, and when George recognized her he said, “You were fast!” 

From then on, Zhang and George have always said hello.

“I would like to give a shout-out to the bus driver George. He’s my best friend,” Zhang said. 

While I’m not on a first-name basis with any bus drivers, I’ve become familiar with the usual cast of characters — which ones will say “hello” back and which ones will yell at me if I don’t press the “Stop Request” button. As we’ve weathered snowstorms, engine malfunctions and road closures together, I’ve gained a sense of camaraderie with bus drivers and students alike, which is hard to come by at such a large university.

Despite our generation’s aversion to interpersonal communication, social barriers tend to crumble when we’re stuck on a multi-ton metal machine.

I’ve gotten phone numbers from strangers after impromptu conversations, listened to a group of people talk extensively about overusing marijuana and cemented friendships with other students from my classes.

Yet considering all the waiting at bus stops in freezing wind chills, all the standing stock-still as I’m stuck in the aisle between two bulging backpacks and all the exasperated sighing as the bus pulls away the second I walk up to it, my love for the Campus Connector may seem irrational.

Since I have no choice whether or not to ride the bus, I’ve accepted the discomfort and frustration as a sacrifice for the cultural experience it provides.

As I got on the Campus Connector heading back toward East Bank from the St. Paul campus one afternoon, I tried my best to ignore the nauseating perfume of the girl across the aisle and the sound of someone watching TikTok videos on full volume. Instead of clenching my fists and giving out dirty looks, I put my feet up on the chair in front of me and stared out the window. 

While worn out and slightly irritated, as the sun melts behind the Minneapolis skyline, I’m reminded of the Campus Connector’s greatest gift: after a day of non-stop classes and homework, 20 minutes where my only obligation is to stay on board.

Valentine’s Day may be long over, but at the Minnesota Daily, love is in the air!

This past week, readers submitted responses to our Campus Matchmaker Poll in hopes of finding the person of their dreams. After careful consideration, the mighty Brain Trust that is the Opinions desk has compiled five couples we believe are perfect matches for one another.

Note: Gender preferences were not considered when assigning these couples. We’re here to connect souls, not sexualities.

Couple 1: Crow and Pearl

Crow is an animal science major who loves all things farm-related and owns two “lovely” cockroaches.

Pearl is an environmental science, policy and management major who loves being near water.

For the first date, we recommend (per Crow’s request) a five-hour “cowboy camping” trip up North, which involves sleeping outdoors without shelter.

What could bring two people closer together than roughing it in Minnesota wilderness? Think of “Naked and Afraid” but with clothes on. 

And we’re confident that in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, Pearl will have a chance to be near water. It’s a win for everyone involved.

Couple 2: Gideon and Michael

Gideon is a music education major who loves to read and draw. 

Michael is studying mechanical engineering and drinks an equal amount of coffee and beer.

Could you ask for a more perfect pairing? 

Not only do they both share a love for manga and anime, but they’re self-proclaimed music and art nerds with a love for playing video games.  

For a first date, we recommend a trip to a coffee shop where they can talk about their shared interests. We expect the conversation to flow smoothly, especially if Michael follows a latte with a can of Hamm’s beer.

Couple 3: Aidan and Anthony

Aidan is a third-year in biology who loves tabletop gaming and existentialist philosophy.

Anthony is a first-year electrical engineering grad student and “respectful of boundaries.”

Considering the dreadful nature of existential conversation (aimless, inflammatory, unsatisfying), we think Aidan’s openness to discussion and Anthony’s humility will create a well-balanced dynamic.

For a first date, we recommend meeting up at a trashy nightclub in Minneapolis. Your best bet is probably the Gay 90s, where you’ll be forced to make meaning out of a space filled with neon lights instead of genuine human connection — an existential challenge, to say the least. 

If you can get over the shared trauma of witnessing 35-year-old men hit on college first-years, you’ll be able to endure anything together.

Couple 4: Sophia and Julia

Sophia is a global studies major who works two jobs and talks “so much.”

Julia is an architecture major whose schedule is too busy to partake in any of her hobbies.

We think Sophia’s affinity for yapping and Julia’s heavy workload will create the perfect scenario: as Julia mindlessly completes homework assignments, Sophia will have a captive audience to talk ad nauseam about her seven tattoos, CD collection and passion for cooking. 

For a first date, we recommend the scenario just described. 

Couple 5: Cade and Christopher

Cade is a supply chain major who loves exploring Minneapolis and collecting plastic bags.

Christopher is a linguistics major who will “come around to anything given enough time.”

Considering Christopher’s open-mindedness (particularly toward learning about NASCAR, electoral politics and the interstate highway system) and Cade’s sense of adventure, we can imagine this couple spending hours discussing niche subjects and doing whatever people do with plastic bags when they collect them.

For the first date, we recommend a walk underneath the Washington Avenue Bridge, where plastic bags abound.

—

Finding genuine romance in college seems an improbable task, but when has the Opinions desk ever been wrong? 

Perhaps the paths of these lovers will never intertwine, but in the eyes of the Minnesota Daily, their souls are forever bound under the abiding force of true love. 

I lost my virginity last summer. After years of relying on Reddit forums and television characters to make sense of my sexuality, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I downloaded Tinder, met a guy and spent the night in his apartment.

To my dismay, I felt completely unequipped and was shaky with nerves. My body didn’t perform the way I expected and I left his apartment feeling sick to my stomach and on the brink of tears. 

While my experience was far from unique, I felt a deep sense of failure and frustration. 

In the United States, sex is an age-old taboo. Since I’m gay, I often feel more comfortable than other men talking about sex, especially around women, but it shouldn’t feel creepy or gross for anyone as long as both sides are interested. Sex is a ubiquitous part of being human and shunning curiosity harms our ability to understand ourselves and each other. 

Kristen Mark, a sex and relationship researcher and educator at the University of Minnesota, said America’s shame-based sexual education programs have diminished our ability to feel confident in our bodies and have open conversations about sex. 

“We see sex as this thing that you should be ashamed of, instead of something that is a natural part of human development,” Mark said.

I got the short end of the stick in my sexual education classes. While lucky enough to go to a school that taught more than just abstinence, I never learned how to give or receive pleasure with someone of the same sex. 

A health teacher once described vaginal intercourse to my class as “two pieces of a puzzle.” 

How, then, could I ever feel complete?

Mark said American society has historically condemned having sex or even talking about sex before marriage, and even in that case, it should only be done for the reason of procreation.

As much as we’ve demonized sex, it remains an inevitable part of our lives. According to the Maternal and Child Health Bureau, 94% of college students in the United States are sexually active. 

Perhaps if I had received a relevant sexual education curriculum I could have had a satisfying, instead of demeaning, first experience. But even broaching the topic of losing my virginity was awkward: I danced around telling my parents why I would be spending the night at a stranger’s house.

“I think one of the barriers to comfort is actually never using the language or saying the words,” Mark said. “We’re taught silly slang words for our genitals when we’re little, for example, and that’s step one of harm. We need to be able to use accurate terminology and feel comfortable having that come out of your mouth.”

My female roommate and I have maintained an open dialogue about our sexualities while we’ve navigated relationships in college. From discussing the historically overlooked female orgasm to testing our gag reflexes with a toothbrush, we’ve created an open space to discuss sex and self-pleasure.

While we can still laugh at a good penis joke, we’ve come to rely on each other as a sounding board for our worries and misconceptions about our sexualities. We’ve not only become closer as roommates, but we’ve gained confidence in ourselves and autonomy over our preferences in the bedroom. 

Carolyn Litzell, a University grad who plans to become a sex therapist, said stigma around sex often inhibits people from establishing boundaries with their partners, especially for women who are victims of sexual abuse.

“If we all talked about sex more, we could have more fulfilling sex lives and we can also avoid those situations where we’re having unpleasant sex in lieu of having tough conversations,” Litzell said. 

Topics around sex often feel intimidating, especially with someone you barely know or at the start of a new relationship. But these conversations don’t always need to be serious or clinical to be effective.

“Maybe sometimes that conversation should have a barrier of playfulness or flirtatiousness, or even humor if that’s helpful,” Litzell said. “And then maybe you can get to a place where you can have frank discussions.”

From chatting with a friend about erectile dysfunction to talking with Health Advocates on campus about their condom selection, sex is now one of my most engaging and empowering topics of conversation. 

No matter how you experience attraction, honesty and candor are critical to living your sex (and college) life to the fullest. We aren’t alone in the struggle to understand our sexualities. By listening to each other’s stories and sharing our own experiences, we can start making up for our country’s lackluster sexual education system. 

I’m now more open-minded, resourceful and better equipped to explore my sexuality.

Just don’t ask me to find the clitoris.

When my feet tire of walking across our concrete-laden campus, I head down the steps behind Coffman Memorial Union and make my way to East River Flats Park. 

With a large, open green space framed with massive cottonwood trees along the Mississippi River, this urban park is a much-needed reprieve from the bustle of campus life and has served as a constant source of intrigue, beauty and absurdity in my life. 

I’ve seen turkeys balancing precariously in towering oaks, met a woman talking to a tree on the hillside and witnessed a group of millennials raving to EDM music in a remnant prairie. 

But most of all, I’ve found solace amid the chaos of college life — a winding trail through the floodplain forest, a quiet bench along the water and an elusive screech owl I’ve named “Screechy.”

Jean Larson, the faculty lead in nature-based therapies at the Bakken Center for Spirituality and Healing, said she valued having the Mississippi River near her office when she was a graduate student at the University of Minnesota.

“There is a part of us on a DNA level that feels better when we’re in nature,” Larson said. “It’s a really simple remedy for a lot of students’ stress.”

She explained the idea of “attention restoration theory,” which suggests when we focus our attention on natural scenery, our brain has an opportunity to reboot and restore itself. 

The occasional smell of sewage and the unrelenting rumble of cars from the West River Parkway may not make for the ideal city escape, but as a student at the University without a car, East River Flats is one of the only places I can go to immerse myself in nature within the Twin Cities.

While living in a metropolitan area may feel claustrophobic, Larson said even having a screensaver of a nature spot on your computer or having plants in your bedroom has proven beneficial to mental health. In other words, you don’t need to plan a backpacking trip in pristine wilderness to reap the restorative benefits of nature. 

In fact, Larson said experiencing nature in any form for just 20 minutes a day is “the dosage” needed to achieve a positive effect on your mind and body.

For students interested in nature-based therapy, Larson recommended exploring courses through the Bakken Center, which offers classes in topics like forest bathing and therapeutic horticulture.

Not only do the natural areas along the Mississippi serve as convenient places to destress, but the river itself provides a massive recreational and cultural benefit to Minneapolis.

Alex Roth is the conservation director for Friends of the Mississippi River, a local non-profit dedicated to improving the river’s ecological health and making public access equitable across the metropolitan area. He said his organization works with thousands of volunteers each year to provide educational opportunities, build community and foster pride in the river.

“If we’re just protecting habitat and locking it away from the public, and we’re not letting people experience the healing benefits and the passion that can come with helping to steward nature, we’re not doing the right thing,” Roth said. “This is one of the world’s great rivers, and for people to be able to use it and recreate alongside it is really of most importance.”

He explained how the health of the river is in constant jeopardy due to threats from invasive species, pollution and tree diseases. Friends of the Mississippi River hopes to increase appreciation for the river and the amenities it provides to the city.

Roth said the portion of the Mississippi that cuts through Minneapolis is a natural gorge, a geological feature that provides sweeping views of the skyline as it rises from the limestone bluffs. 

“I think to be able to walk alongside or drive across this river any day of the week, and see people recreating on it, whether it’s fishing, canoeing and kayaking on the river shows how important this resource is for us, and how much the river gives back to us,” Roth said.

For students looking to explore other parks and natural areas close to campus, Roth recommended the Mississippi Gorge Regional Park and Father Hennepin Bluff Park, which offer serenity and solitude while still providing a feeling of connection with the city. 

Growing up in a Chicago suburb, my house was two miles from the closest natural area — a perpetually muddy forest preserve sandwiched between two busy roads. But Minneapolis has forests, waterfalls and prairies at the city’s backdoor, a gift too precious to take for granted.

But of all the parks scattered throughout the city, a visit to East River Flats feels most rewarding.

Where else can you spy on stoners hiding on trash-laden beaches, hear the boom of a rowing coach’s megaphone and watch hordes of crows fly overhead in their yearly migration, all without moving an inch?