The day you move into the dorms is one of the most exciting days of your life. It's the day you officially have a place of your own. It doesn't much matter that you're sharing a room slightly larger than a prison cell with 1, 2 or 3 other people. The fact that you need a key to unlock the bathroom that you share with at least 4 but most likely 10 young ladies. It's also of no importance that your roommate, whom you initially envision to become your lifelong best friend because together the two of you will conquer the challenge that is college and university life, turns out to be a bit odd.
Moving in is all about promise. The promise of your new life, the new you that you're going to be because now that you're in college you're going to be very different and do things you couldn't do before or were too afraid to try. Guess what? It is new, but you're still the same. You may do a few things here and there but it's more out of necessity than this all new you.
What did I do when I moved in? Well I was smart, as I always am and I didn't move in until the afternoon. I'm from LA you see, and we know how traffic and crazy parents can be. Get in early and get out. Yeah, in LA we get there late and leave early. Check out our sports teams if you don't believe me.
My aunt and uncle live in Cincinnati which is about 100 miles south of Columbus. I flew in from Los Angeles on a Thursday afternoon with my sister, three suitcases and a "To Do List" written by my mother. Friday was shopping and packing. Saturday was THE big day.
The drive from Cincinnati to Columbus was shorter than I remembered. The tress along certain stretches of highway 71 were still green. My uncle, sister and cousin were in one car and my aunt and I rode together in her car. I wanted my sister in my car because I knew she would talk a lot and distract me from the fact that this was the moment I'd been talking about for months, but was quickly realizing it might not be what I wanted after all. It was easy to say I wanted to leave LA and move to the Midwest because I knew it was a stark contrast compared to everything I'd grow up with but actually doing it filled me with an anxiety I hadn't yet experienced in my life.
Of course, at that point in my life living in Los Angeles was too painful. I don't know if I mentioned this in my earlier posts, but leaving for Ohio was as much about growing up, finding myself, and being my own person as it was about running away from the most painful event in my life. I'll keep it short because it really is a story for another time, and in doing so I mean no disrespect to those involved. It's just not something I talk about often. It remains now and will forever be the greatest source of pain in my life.
When I was 17, just a few weeks before the start of my senior year my uncle killed himself. When I was a kid we spent a Summer together building a patio, bbq grill, and front porch. Well he did the building, but I had the important task of picking bricks, mixing cement and anything else he could find that would keep me busy. He was a beautiful man whose pain wasn't known to us until it was too late for my family and I to help him. Living in a house that he helped remodel, stepping onto steps he tiled, grilling on the grill he built and eating on the patio he designed and built was too painful for me. After he died I would stare for hours at his work while my heart broke as I tried to understand why he would do what he did.
I kept thinking about him on my drive up to the university when before I knew it we were on High St. and turning onto 12th Ave. Cars were lining up leaving the university, parents and students saying happy goodbyes. Promise was everywhere. Two trips from the car to the dorm and I was moved in. My room was large, far bigger than anything I expected and by some stroke of luck I was on the ground floor, which had ten rooms split between five women and five men. Lines to shower? A wait to use the toilet? That didn't exist in my wing. I was quite lucky. In fact, looking back on it now it was the beginning of a long lucky streak. Though, I should mention that I did have to deal with my fair share of instant kharma striking, and strike it did during my 6 years as an undergrad.
Much too soon all my clothes and personal items were put away. Suddenly there was no need for my aunt, uncle and sister to be there with me. My life as it were had been set to begin there in that room on that campus all on my own. Not only did I no longer need them, but they didn't fit in that place. It was my time to be alone and so they left. I don't remember if I cried, but I imagine that I did my best to keep my tears from falling. I do know that my sister promised to pick me up in four years when I graduated. She always took me to my first day of school. First grade, high school and then college. She turned away from me, walked out my door and down that hallway as fast as she could.
I sat at my desk on my computer, fiddling around in Photoshop, trying to do anything and everything that would make me feel as though I were at home and nothing had changed. Ten minutes later I looked up a map of the U.S. I placed my index finger on Ohio then scanned across the length of my screen to find California. It was as this moment that I realized how far from home I was.
"Fuck I'm really far away."
I said that out loud and was so distracted while looking at the map that I didn't hear my roommate and her parents return to our room. After I apologized I introduced myself and a few minutes later they left. I sat on my bed staring at bed across from me. My roommate was on her laptop writing an e-mail. I looked at her small bookshelf, noticing some odd book titles. Anatomy. Human Body Illustrations. Physics.
"So what's your major?"
"Dance."
"Oh."
Together we left our new home to walk around the campus. We found house parties, drunk students walking into us and a lot of other freshman giving themselves a tour of the grounds. I went to bed as soon as we got back to our room. I put my headphones on, pressed play on my CD player and did my best not to cry myself to sleep.
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