For most people who go to a small liberal arts college, it's an event that will happen sooner or later. On most of my nights, I ruminated and slept comfortably within the yellow plastered confines of my dormitory, hoping that I would have been the exception; having lived in Philadelphia for all 19 years of my life, being admitted to a place where I no longer got harassed, made fun of, or had to watch my back constantly was a dream come true. Even now, I still live this "wonderland" daily within the community as I can move my life along without any external fears or concerns, tagging along with many good friends, professors, and acquaintances.

However, there's a problem that, while talked about regularly among the community, doesn't seem to get as much attention. By this I am referring to the "Haverbubble," a commonly termed concept to describe the lax nature of Haverford's campus and its disparity in conjunction with the "outside world." Having practically everything one really needs (the food centers, bookstore, and resources come to mind), there's not much of a need to go beyond the borders. At least for me, anyway.

After being accustomed to the typical rowdiness of Philadelphia— sketchy individuals, vehicle crashes, loud sounds, crappy drivers, and the pain and demise of slow, crowded public transportation— I was excited to begin my life in Ardmore, where in comparison, events are more pleasant and unrushed by the immediacy of time. Now, that globe is breaking. Along with keeping up with my course load and activities, nothing seems to be stable as I realize just how short my time here is and how quickly I'll be brought back to the world at large, figuring out a way to fend for myself in a vicious, constantly-changing society.

The further I become complacent with my life inside Haverford, the more I lose consciousness of the outside world. Of course, I can do what the others typically do and go out into Philadelphia for engagement, but for me, my own problems still persist. Yes, I haven't forgotten the myriad homeless citizens trying to find help around City Hall. Yes, I haven't forgotten how my senses perk up with all the constant stimulation happening at every minute, every second. And yes, I remember SEPTA. A small shiver shudders down my spine from even mentioning the acronym.

Now, the real questions: Do I simply just dislike living in urban areas? Is this something that one has to get used to, to swallow like some bitter pill or medicine that helps with heart problems? My unrest grows with every waking moment.