College football isn't only about four quarters.

It's about traditions.

Friends.

Tailgates.

Road trips.

School pride.

That's why fan-inspired apparel continues to be popular. A simple graphic tee can remind people of memorable seasons, favorite players, and the excitement that comes with every Saturday.

I meant to post this yesterday, but I was dangling from a very frayed thread labeled “Monday.” You get it.

Anyone else grow up thinking they were dumb? Same. Plot twist: I wasn’t. I just had hardcore ADHD, not the “I watched a TikTok about it” kind. The real kind. Couldn’t sit still, hated loud noises, no filter, fidgeted like a cat on a tin roof.

My school tested me for ADHD quite a bit. Diagnosis confirmed every time. Medication? Lord no. My parents were like, “Cope naturally.” Somehow, I always had great grades, got put in “gifted” classes (Mississippi public school, so the bar was low), but flopped on any test with a timer. Shout-out to the ACT for the ego check.

Then came college. I showed up to orientation solo like a full-grown adult, only to realize half the freshmen couldn’t make a doctor’s appointment or set an alarm. Meanwhile, I’d been packing my own lunch since elementary school. I even made appointments for my roommate. A true public servant.

I started at a JUCO, not because I’m dumb or poor, but because I’m financially literate. I loved it. Cheerleading, routine, friends, no Greek life tax. Then I transferred to university… and hated every second. My arm injury ended cheer; I wasn’t a freshman, I wasn’t in a sorority, and suddenly I had the social ranking of a library printer. Most people treated my part-time job like it was a terminal illness (“You work…I am so sorry??”). Like, come on, you're going to college to eventually work, why are you looking at me like one of the shivering puppies in the ASPCA commercials?

Ole Miss was beautiful, and I will scream Hotty Toddy forever, but the place is basically a dumpsite for rich kids who weren't smart enough for an Ivy League, and no hate to sororities, some of my best friends were in them elsewhere, but these girls thought “real problems” meant emptying their outrageous monthly allowance from their parents on their fake IDs. I made a few decent connections, but between classes, work, and being broke, I didn’t have time for surface-level friendships. Shout-out to my roommates, they were amazing and got me through it.

Anyway, I worked all through college, graduated early with honors, and still wasn’t sure if I was smart… until I got thrown into the real world. And let me tell you: Gen Z can’t have a basic human conversation without buffering, Boomers think “AirDrop” is a terrorist threat, and half of everyone just gets by on the bare minimum like ambition is an optional upgrade.

So maybe I am smart. Or maybe the bar is just unbearably low. Either way, here I am.