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I send to the Shire (lovingly packed in bubble wrap) the following:
Swedish Fish. After a tiring morning of running from meeting to class, to class, to meeting, to meeting (eating lunch on the way), being able to raid the junk food store on the second floor of the campus center and come back with a bag entirely full of swedish fish, gummy worms, peach penguins, peach... thingies... reese's peanut butter cups, chocolate, dark chocolate... and soy milk (but that's to atone for my unhealthy sins just listed, I promise) to consume while writing a half dozen papers. For some odd reason, Swedish Fish just make it easier to rewrite a C paper and turn it into at least a B.
Understanding professors. The kind that readily admit that your favorite aunt's wedding is more important than a Saturday morning class and are happy to excuse you from it because you asked so nicely and in advance. The kind that go off on as many tangents as you while telling stories. The kind that spends extra time praising one single paragraph of your latest paper: "Eventually, she will die."
Practicing for ages. When you know that you are not the most talented in your class, be it music, dance, or even acedemics, but you practice whenever you can. Knowing that you are working your absolute hardest, and that your instructor respects you all the more for it. And finally, after so many frustrating mistakes, finishing a song or routine and knowing that you nailed it.
Bubble paper and the fantastic fun opportunities that it allows for. Especially the huge kind, with four inch bubbles.
Eomer of the Rohirrim's signature.
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