While I know the majority of the country’s universities have already released their students from the tight grip of academia, my fellow CUNY students and I still have most of the month of May to go. With that being said, while everyone is preparing to eat an infinite amount of Playa Bowls and post photos of their feet in the Jersey Shore sands (or in whatever setting non-coastal people brag about, I imagine it’s large plots of grass and man-made lakes or something), I will be happily downing Americanos while simultaneously falling asleep on digital textbooks and writing three papers. Lucky for me, I have a wonderful support system of awesomely rude roommates to make loud noises at both midnight and 6 a.m. working together to keep my biological clock as out of whack as possible. And with that, I welcome you to my life as a college freshman: a year in the making.
I began the year considerably nervous, about setting changes and friend making and intramural sports and HOW AM I GOING TO FEED MYSELF. It was a strong beginning, with trips to Flatbush whereby I said yes to an apartment I didn’t want, and cried (and then returned the key I had been coaxed into taking in a hit-and-run fashion, with which I nearly threw the key into the apartment); accidental subways to the west side of town; and also me finally finding a place to live in the most panicked way possible.
It was a quick adjust- I soon found a job, made a few work friends, realized that it was damn-near impossible for me to make school friends, and shortly learned that my roommates were, in each of their own special ways, enormous messes. My bed was moved from the spot in the room where I had placed it, nearest my air conditioner, which my roommate hates and often turns off even on the most humid of days. I learned that not everyone knows how to cook for themselves and then clean the dishes. I learned that, while I may be disorganized, I am an incredibly independent human being and can take on the responsibility of an adult and student with nothing more than a few sighs from time to time and the occasional depressed meltdown. My first half of the year went by like so, and while I was often quoted on the cellphone crying to my boyfriend, “I just want to go home!! I hate this place!!” I also spent a lot of time learning about my surroundings, and also myself.
I also learned a lot about earning your college education in those first few months of school, which is that you take what you can out of your college experience. Everyone is unique in this sense, and while some people learn how to take body shots or play beer pong, others learn that the best memories you make in college are the ones you can remember. Some people find out that homework was the only thing keeping them back from achieving great things in high school, and others learned that it was the only thing keeping them afloat. I did well in school, and got more or less the grades I had gotten in high school, which is something that most people can’t say.
Sure, I’m no longer student council VP, member of every club and stress-crier extraordinaire, but I’m still a hard worker, and I have a job and I do this Odyssey thing and I think that the friends that I have, while not overly abundant, are good friends. This isn’t everyone’s college experience, and I get that, and I get that the most shared articles are going to be ones about 3 a.m. Taco Bell runs and learning how to shotgun a beer without getting any of it on your lace-front bodysuit and hotpants. But it’s my learning experience, and it’s something that has changed me for the better.
My year has since been less of a “learning to deal with” and more of a “not giving a shit.” This sounds absolutely terrible, I know, but I can only take so many passive aggressive comments from my roommate before I respond with due aggression, and I can only spend so many days making small talk with kids in fear that they’ll think I’m weird before I decide to go forth and make friends. I joined the theater team, I started working more, my boyfriend moved to the city and we eat Thai food often (a stark contrast to the pan of sautéed vegetables with noodles, or as I like to call it hot salad, over starch that became my daily meal there for a while.) I do a lot of writing for my classes that has inspired me to do writing for myself and for fun, and I’m actually enjoying this city and my school a little more. I’ve given myself time to enjoy where I was without overthinking it, and while that occasionally leaves me up at night eating pierogies and working on workshop assignments, it has also led me to find my own little niche.
I don’t feel like an invasive species in New York anymore, and I certainly don’t feel like I don’t belong at Hunter College (this is no thanks to the volleyball coach, who after emailing several times has still not answered me). I’ve had teachers, classmates, and work friends that have made me feel a part of something more, something that I’m excited to learn about and grow with. They’ve made me want to find a new apartment, look at different neighborhoods and join different clubs, and if that’s not what the college experience is all about then I don’t want to be a part of it. Ideally, I would have continued my high school success as an extracurricular aficionado, but without change you can never grow. While I may not appreciate my roommate waking up at 6 a.m. and throwing large storage bins of food that she keeps under her bed around (a tendency of hers that I have coped with by means of melatonin and herbal tea), I have learned from it nonetheless, and am a better person in the end because of it (or at least that's what I keep telling myself).