This past week, for the first time since I got to college, I felt “at home". It was a pretty noticeable distinction. For the past month or so, I think I subconsciously viewed my dorm as a temporary living space. I’m sure it doesn’t help that my residence hall is designed more like a hotel. I wish I could chalk this new feeling of ease up to time, yet I have the feeling it had more to do with two events happening within the past week: my roommate Autumn* moved out and my friend from back home moved into her dorm at University of California San Diego.
Autumn’s reasons for moving out were ultimately unclear. She didn’t tell me or Genie* she was leaving until a couple days before she left; apparently, the process of changing rooms is a swift one. Once she left, there really wasn’t much of a change because she had never been in the room anyways. Yet I felt like I wasn’t walking on eggshells anymore. She and I never clicked — which was fine. It just made the few times we interacted slightly uncomfortable. Genie and I had found our stride, yet Autumn never fit into it. Our new roommate is actually moving in today, and her arrival was just as sudden as Autumn’s departure. We know nothing about her, but I’m ready for anything at this point.
Even if I don’t know her exact reasons for moving out, I understand why Autumn left. I think most of us moving in with strangers considered moving out once or five times. I think I would have, had there not been this existing stigma regarding switching rooms. I assumed my roommates would judge me, yet I don’t judge Autumn at all. I applaud her, and everyone else who changed rooms, for having the stamina to repeat the grueling move-in process again — the physical part, as well as the mental part involved with settling in with more strangers.
Within that same weekend, my childhood best friend moved into UCSD. I went to visit her on Friday and ended up staying almost the whole weekend. Not only was it great to see her, but I also hit it off with her roommates. The slight disconnect that exists between some of the friends I’ve made here at SDSU doesn’t exist with them, and we already joke that I’m their fourth roommate. Simultaneously, I missed home and felt like I was back. Having a piece of home, especially just an important piece, and being a thirty-minute drive away (shout-out to my mother for letting me bring my car) makes being nine hours away from my actual home so much easier.
One thing I learned this week is you might have to work a little harder than you thought to make college feel like home. It's more apparent to me than ever that a house is not a home. There’s nothing wrong with viewing college as a means to an end. Yet if you still feel like your room is just a place to sleep, and college is just a place to get an education, I encourage you again to get out there. I understand how hard it is, yet the more work you put into your college experience, the more you will get out of it. I found out about a SDSU organization while at a UCSD event, just because I happened to talk to a SDSU alumni. Like one of my undeclared advisers said, “You just need to find your people.” For her, her fellow club members are like family now. So find a club, go to events, strike up a conversation with the person wearing your favorite band’s t-shirt, and know this: I’m still working on following my own advice.
*Names have been changed to maintain confidentiality.