Imagine for a moment the daily life of a UCSC student — say, for instance, a computer science major. Can you picture it? Class first thing Monday morning; then the next class; then the next; then, off to the library to tackle the steadily increasing coursework load. She lives off campus; what time does she come home? 10pm? Midnight? Repeat it all — Wednesday, Friday.

Can you picture it? She works on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturday nights, tip-toeing the perpetual balance between financial need and GPA.

Meanwhile, housing costs in this town continue their rapid climb, like a rug being torturously pulled from under our feet. In May of this year, the median home price for Santa Cruz County reached $805,000. “Why would I sell?” homeowners scoff — why would I sell? — why would I sell? Low supply and high demand are the dynamic duo that drives prices up. Tenants need to make $33.77 per hour to afford the average 2-bedroom apartment. Santa Cruz becomes, inevitably, “the worst place to rent in the country.”

The cost of having a room of one’s own — $1,000.

Back to the UCSC student. Can you picture it? A checklist runs through her head during her morning bus rides to campus. Have you met with landlords? Have you signed a lease? Have you paid the deposit and rent? Have you written your essay?

Meanwhile, UC tuition increases by percentage points and UCSC population increases by thousands per year, living, breathing bodies in need of housing. In need of a warm bed to sleep in, a desk for future all-nighters, bright lights, space to think. Low supply and high demand are the dynamic duo that drives our standards down — a friend's couch instead of a bed, two jobs to pay for half a room, more housemates, less space.

The cost of having a room of one’s own — the limits of one’s time, patience, and emotional labor.

It seems that the responsibilities of UCSC students today have multiplied exponentially, forcing each of us to carry immeasurable burdens to reach the bare minimum. Have we done something wrong? All we wanted was an education. Space to learn. A room. Not too long ago we were 18 years old, sitting in the plastic chairs of high school classrooms and having to ask permission to use the restroom. Then, we graduated, and were suddenly expected to become superheroes.