There’s something about getting mail that makes you feel like you actually exist.

Whether it’s a mailbox or mail stop, you have a physical location on this earth that is assigned to you and no one else. It sounds so simple, so “old timey,” now that most people use email and social networking sites to connect with each other, but there’s just something about reaching into a little box, grasping an envelope, and waiting with baited breath to see who sent it.

This is especially true in college, when every contact we make with our friends and family from home is virtual and on a screen. If you ever wonder why students get so excited to find out they have a package, this is why. It’s something physical and concrete they can hold. if it’s a care package from mom, then mom held it, too. Or if it’s a letter from a friend, then that notebook paper has been on another campus in another state.

Last year I received a surprise package from my friend Alisa (pronounced “Alice”) with a small note attached. I wrote her a page and a half of my excited ramblings and mailed it. A few weeks letter, a four-page letter was in my mail stop. And thus began our written correspondence for the next year.

As you can see, she decorates her letters with doodles.

And I decorate my envelopes.

I always look forward to her letters. I’ll rip open the envelope and start reading as I walk home, laughing at all the shenanigans she gets into (she’s in Princeton’s marching band so she has some pretty awesome stories), exclaiming in jealousy at the Lit course she’s in, or feeling lucky I don’t have to take another Comp-Sci class. No matter how long they are, they’re a wonderful read and lift my spirits (even if the topic isn’t “happy” it’s still good to hear from her). And yes, I keep all the letters!

I know, I know, writing letters by hand, who does that anymore?!? Getting me to write a thank-you note is like pulling teeth (I’d rather say thank-you in person) and sometimes I really don’t feel like replying to emails. Maybe it’s because I know I’ll get a relatively quick response, but with snail-mail there’s anywhere from a week to a month waiting time, giving me a chance to experience new things to write about. And come up with new ideas for envelope decoration!

No matter how you do it, keeping in touch with friends and family is crucial to your well-being in college. I may not talk to my parents daily, or even weekly, but I still want to know how they’re doing. The same applies to friends. Just as I have friends on campus I see daily (my roommates) or weekly (Ben, Alex, Mary, the list is very long), there are people from back home I still keep in touch with (Stacey, Phoebe, Alisa).

Even though writing a letter can be time consuming, or I don’t always know what I want to say, it’s still worth while. It’s like writing in a journal, but there aren’t more empty pages that stare up at you when you’re done. You know something will be returned.

My roommate has taken to asking me questions before bed, but they aren’t the kind of questions you’d expect. Nothing mundane like “How was your day?” or “What do you have coming up this week?” (She already knows those answers, anyway.)

No. She goes for the obscure, strange, and surprisingly morally probing questions:

• “Would you rather have to live with a smudge on your glasses for the rest of your life, or have a constant ringing sound in your ears?”
• “If you could go inside the belly of a whale, would you do it?”
• “Which would you rather wake up and have under you in bed, a rat or a snake?”
• “Would you rather save 5 people that you knew (not intimately) or 100 complete strangers?”

I usually stare at some of my postcards as I contemplate the answers.

Sometimes the answers take a while to think of, sometimes I refuse to answer, and sometimes I respond with my own questions like, “How did the rat or snake get there in the first place?”

Yeah, these questions are really weird, but I think they give a fairly accurate representation of my relationship with my roommate:

Really weird but adorable at the same time (aaaawww, she just came over to give me a hug!)

Now, I’ve gotten used to these random once-a-month inquisitions, but imagine my surprise when a group of friends (those folks I talked with about authenticity) started a meeting with similar questions. Well, they didn’t include any weird animals, but they got pretty deep.

Would you rather be able to speak every language or play every instrument in the world?

Well … I used to sing in a choir (homeschool choir, actually), and I’m not a big fan of singing solos, or drawing unnecessary attention to myself (I have horrible stage fright), so I would have to say I’d rather be able to speak every language. I love learning from others and about different cultural experiences, and I think the best way for me to go about that would be through listening and talking to others. Some people in the group said music is a universal language, which I won’t deny, but I don’t know if I’d ever be comfortable using it in front of others.

Another question from our meeting that had me stumped:

If you were a member of the opposite sex (or whichever leaning you prefer), would you date yourself?

I don’t know if I want to say “Yes” because I hope there’s someone out there who wants to date me, or if I truly think I could put up with myself. I’m starting to think it’s the former. Because let’s face it, if I heard the excuses I come up with about being too busy and not being able to give enough of my time to the other person, I wouldn’t want to date me either.

Here’s the question that revealed more about ourselves indirectly than any other I heard at that meeting:

What is one belief, value, or priority that you will pass on to your own children someday?

Although I never see myself having children, or getting married for that matter (a topic I’m not about to get into), there are three things I want to impart to my nephews as they grow up:

1. Acceptance of yourself and of others, for all your differences and similarities.
2. The ability to celebrate those differences and at the same time understand people even if you don’t agree with them (empathy).
3. Curiosity in the world around you and a love of learning for the sake of learning

There were so many different values shared; everyone had a different answer. Somehow by talking about what we wanted to teach others, we explained more about ourselves than we ever could have in a year of knowing each other.

Asking questions of each other is so crucial to building relationships, and it is so often overlooked. No matter how strange or intimate the Q&A process is, I think we all get something unique out of it.

So surprise each other. Ask a question next time you’re with a friend, or new acquaintance, or me.

I’ll try to answer as best I can.

“I’m going to kidnap your roommate”
“What?”

A few moments later there was a knock on my door and my neighbor/friend came in, picked me up by the legs, and proceeded to carry me to his room.

Ah yes, the joys of having brotherly friends.

Don’t worry, I was going to hang out in his room anyway, so I got him to put me down so I could get my knitting and homework. But honestly? I love having friends who can be totally goofy and are like a second family.

Actually, they’re more like my primary family for nine months out of the year. And that’s truly what gets me through each day, knowing there’s someone who has my back (or legs), and can relate to my experiences. It’s true I have two sisters, but there’s such a large age gap it’s like we’re in two different generations!

So, when I get back from breaks it’s like a little family reunion, everyone hugging each other, visiting our neighbors, and enjoying each others company.

In the case of this Thanksgiving break, our reunion consisted of freaking out over homework, decorating our Christmas tree and the rest of the room, and other prep for the holidays.

I won’t bore you with the first bit of our reunion, except to say that reading a book (for history class) about the Holocaust will make you 100 times more thankful and appreciative of the life you are currently leading.

As for the second bit:

I have now experienced the joy of a Christmas tree in my own place!!!

You know when people move into their first apartment and have to buy their own furniture, or celebrate their first (fill-in-the-blank) in their new “place” and it’s a really big deal? Big in terms of life steps and making your own way in the world. Well, that’s why I’m so excited about having a Christmas tree in my apartment.

Always the dramatic one...

Last year my roommates and I hung things up and baked sugar cookies we then decorated, but we didn’t have a tree.

The Christmas tree at my house is always one of my favorite childhood memories. We would get a real tree, strap it onto the roof of the car, I’d help my dad bring it into the house, set it up, and laugh at the cats’ reactions to its sudden appearance in our living room. We’d spend one night decorating it, filling it with ornaments passed down through the generations, pictures of family members young and old, ornaments made in kindergarten with bow-tie pasta and glitter paint. The whole house would smell like pine; it was wonderful. On Christmas morning candy canes and small presents would be hidden amongst the branches.

The tree in my apartment is significantly smaller and therefore can’t be host to as many surprises, but it still adds Christmas cheer to the room.

As my roommates and I decorated, we listened and sang along to Christmas music, everything from Jason Mraz’s “Winter Wonderland” to Bing Crosby’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” I’ve also discovered the wonders of Pandora’s Folk Christmas playlist (my favorite artists so far: John Fahey and Windham Hill).

We’ve also been modifying the posters in our room; there will soon be a sleigh and reindeer traversing the Starry Night.

I’m sure we’ll decorate more before we go home for the holidays, and I know I have to put some time into knitting Christmas presents for my roommates! I think I’ll be spending more time with my brotherly neighbors to work on that.

I want the presents to be a surprise!

If you ever visit my room, the first thing you’ll see is the “Room 213 Bucket List.”

My roommates and I made it at the beginning of the year because we kept on coming up with things to do but either a) forgot them in a week, or b) lost motivation to do them. This weekend we were finally able to check off a few boxes after our adventure to the Inner Harbor.

Our original plan was to visit the aquarium, as suggested by my roommate Erin, but their tickets were a bit pricey for the short amount of time we had available to us. Instead, we decided to meander around the Inner Harbor and let our stomachs lead us to an eventual destination.

Getting out of the apartment to explore the city was such a good idea. It was gorgeous. There was a light breeze, blue skies, and Christmas decorations were slowly changing the piers into a jungle of colored lights (Personally, I don’t want anything to do with Christmas till after Thanksgiving. But, I have to admit that the Inner Harbor decorations got me excited).

USS Constitution ~ I love maritime history!

As we walked along the crowded walkway, we snapped pictures of the beautiful sunset and sang along to the Christmas carols a street musician played on his saxophone.

It turns out the first destination we came to was Barnes and Noble.

Luckily, all my roommates love to read, so we killed an hour or two perusing the maze of books. I got side-tracked by a Hobbit display case (I’m so excited for the movie. Words cannot describe my enthusiasm for J.R.R. Tolkein and Martin Freeman). After many declarations of oohs and aahs in the fiction, sci-fi/fantasy, art, and knitting section, I finally decided I could indulge myself and buy Clash of Kings. Soon after, the fragrant smells coming from The Hard Rock Cafe next door caused us all to agree that it was time for dinner.

As we exited the store, a crowd gathered by one of the piers and a choir began to sing. I’m sure they sounded lovely, but our attention was drawn to Noodles and Co.

I had a lovely Chicken Pad Thai…

and we chatted about our Thanksgiving traditions over our food.

After a very filling meal, we walked around some of the shops and I got a bit of Christmas shopping done (shout out to Stacey: be prepared for an awkwardly awesome gift!).

By the time we returned outside, it had grown dark and Santa was making the rounds in a massive crowd of families by the pier. There was even snow confetti!!!

And a giant pink poodle (I think it was a cotton candy vendor).

All the walking around and seeing the sights was fairly exhausting, so we headed home shortly thereafter to mugs of tea and lounging in pajamas. I broke out the new book and continued to work on some art homework.

All in all, it was a pretty good (and pretty tiring) weekend. I wonder what we’ll do next on the bucket list…..

That’s it. I’m officially a walking disaster zone when I’m tired. And stressed. Lots of stress.

In the last 15 minutes alone I have managed to spill brownie mix all over myself (dry, thankfully), spill water on my socks, and smudge brownie mix on my sleeves (not dry).

My lack of coordination is usually straight forward and easy to deal with. You know, the typical tripping over my feet, falling up the stairs, running into people while walking backwards, dropping random objects, but all fairly predictable and spread out through the week.

But three mishaps in 15 minutes? Maybe I should rethink wearing heels to Loyola Rising tonight.

Those bricks on the bridge are not conducive to heeled boots.

Now, if you’re wondering why I’m so tired and therefore clumsy, I have three words for you:

Registration/Thanksgiving Break

Yesterday, sophomores registered for their spring semester classes and I can say without a doubt that the 30 seconds of staring at the “Loading” sign are some of the most stressful in my life.

Most courses range from 15-25 spots (a very intimate and personal classroom) and as the day goes by, section after section fills up and those who have later registration times go through three or four “back up” schedules. Like me.

I don’t handle that kind of stress well. Opening up my college acceptance/denial letters was torture. Waiting to see if I got the last spot in a Printmaking class was like sitting on tenterhooks and having my heart try to leap through my lungs.

If it’s any consolation, registration gets easier every semester. Seniors always have first pick, followed by Juniors, then Sophomores, and first years actually get help registering. Loyola often adds more sections for core courses, so that eases up the overflow, too.

Normally after registration life is a bit easier and the stress build-up dissipates within a few hours, but this year registration was right before Thanksgiving break. Which means professors try to cram in as many tests, projects, and papers as possible.

Why this crazy amount of work for what isn’t even a full week of break?

Because two weeks after Turkey Day is final exams and then FREEDOM!!!!!!

Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. I enjoy my classes, professors, friends, and free time in Baltimore. But sleeping in and not worrying about running clubs or writing papers is at the top of my Christmas  wishlist. (I take after my dad. He always asks for Peace and Quiet.)

I’m used to being busy, but there are fits and spurts of hectic craziness that make one week drag on forever and another feel surprisingly short.

In order to not wind up like me and accidentally snap at your roommates when they kindly ask what you would like to do for the weekend (or get covered in chocolate powder), here are a few pointers:

1. Think ahead. If you know there are a lot of things coming up, then you can…
2. Plan ahead. Having a calendar is essential to getting work done on time.
3. Make lists! Having something to cross off makes me feel accomplished. Half the time I don’t cross it off anyway, but just knowing the order of things still helps.
4. Be aware of others. You probably aren’t the only one freaking out, so be willing to accept and give support.
5. Eat well. Grab some breakfast, even if it’s only a granola bar, get lots of protein (eggs are brain food!), and indulge in the occasional sweet as a reward (OK, maybe more than occasional).
6. Take time to relax and do something that doesn’t use the analytical part of your brain. And I don’t mean watch TV. Color, knit, write stream-of-consciousness poetry, play solitaire, lie outside and look at the clouds, cook dinner.
7. Laugh! I’m not kidding. Having one of those belly-laugh moments is great. Laughing so much that your abs hurt and your eyes are tearing up sounds ridiculous, but if feels so good afterwards.

Apparently I looked like a mermaid, tucked away reading in my room over the weekend.

My roommate & I paint to relieve stress; it tends to come out rather abstract.

I'm telling you: Belly laughs. They're good for the spirit.

“For homework this week, I want you to draw what you think the soul is. The soul, or human consciousness, as a part of the body. Take time to think about it, do some soul searching, if you will. Don’t even try to do it the hour before class”

Thus spoke my art professor last Monday at the end of my figure drawing class, staring us all down as he gave us what seemed to be an impossible task.

I spent the whole week trying to figure out what the soul meant to me. Walking to classes, distracted moments while doing homework, in the shower, cooking dinner, and nothing, and I mean nothing, came to me. Part of the reason for this mental block was due to not knowing what part of the body I should depict. Was the soul in the head? The eyes? The chest? A lung? The abdomen? I had no idea. I knew I was probably going to do something with words, or maybe draw part of the body made up of art materials, but nothing deep about my personal philosophy was bubbling to the surface.

By Thursday night I was getting kind of worried. Normally I know what I’m going to do for my art homework by then and I spend Friday night or Saturday morning working on it. It wasn’t until I went to the Meet and Eat sponsored by CCSJ that I had an inkling of what I saw as the human soul.

The Meet and Eat is a dinner held by CCSJ in conjunction with various Baltimore agencies which help the homeless get back on their feet. Last year I went with my Alpha class, and again this year as an aide. It was fantastic both times. Students get to meet new people, talk about their experiences, eat good (and free!) food, listen to the Belles and Chimes, enjoy the open mic aspect, and participate in a reflection at the end.

As I listened to the guests read their own poetry and the accomplishments or memories they shared, I realized that part of human consciousness is about understanding. We seek recognition in others and require empathy to live our life to the best of our ability. We aren’t robots who are given direct instructions on how to function, instead we have choices and it’s that free will which shapes our souls.

I quickly sketched out some ideas during the dinner and the next day spent some time on the porch of Humanities continuing those thoughts. Confession: I had some help from Wikipedia to jump start that process. Sometimes reading other opinions helps me formulate my own.

After coming to the conclusion that words would be the best representation of my concept of the soul, I still had to figure out where it “lived” in the body. Memories of drawing the ribcage quickly moved me in the direction of the skull. How hard can that be, right?

HA.

The human skull is way more complex than it looks. In the end, here’s what I cam up with:

I erased most of the lines and inked it the next day:

Then added shape by crosshatching and highlights with white conte crayon:

Reason, Emotion, Desire, Choice, Senses, Experience

I never thought I’d have to do literal soul searching for an art class, or any class for that matter. It seems Loyola’s professors have a goal of challenging me weekly this year. From art to philosophy they have me asking questions of myself I normally wouldn’t consider relevant to the class.

The best part? I’m actually starting to enjoy it.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that when the weather turns cold, a knitter must be in want of good wool and a hot beverage.

It’s that time of year again. The time to bundle up in thick scarves, chunky sweaters, over-sized hats, and drink copious amounts of tea and coffee to ward away the afternoon drowsiness which accompanies darker evenings.

For me, this weather is perfect. I hate the heat, though my complaint actually lies with over-exposure to the sun (I’m super pale. Like, I glow in the sunlight in early spring. And I’m as red as a lobster in the summer). Right now I’m really excited to break out the wool socks and mittens. I’d be super happy if it snowed this week, but I know that it wouldn’t be a good thing for those who are still out of power from Sandy (like my parents; they already got half a foot of snow last night).

Still, my idea of a perfect winter afternoon is curling up in a huge armchair in front of a fire, snow swirling outside the windows, shelves of books host to infinite new worlds, my cat in my lap, and knitting in my hands. Some quiet music would be nice, too. Maybe some tea on a table beside me.

Well, at the moment I’m lacking snow, a fireplace and my cat, but I have some form of the rest at school. The reading room has wonderful chairs to curl up in, Barnes and Noble is only a bus ride away, I have my iPod, I just bought a cup of coffee, and my knitting is in my backpack beside me.

When it comes to hobbies, I am not your average 20 year old. My art prof saw my knitting this past week and asked “Shouldn’t you be texting or something? Constantly tapping away at technology?”

Trust me, I do my fair share of that, but my answer will always be “No, I’d rather be knitting.” And what I knit isn’t your typical scarf or blanket either.

I started knitting when I was homeschooled, and made little stuffed animals and knick knacks but nothing very complicated. I stopped knitting for a few years, and then got back into it in high school when I was given sock yarn one Christmas. Since then, I’ve made

socks

hats

scarves

and now I design my own patterns. Which, let me tell you, involves more math than you think (Reasons why it’s good to have math core at Loyola).

I actually have Loyola to thank for getting me started on designing patterns. When I visited here my senior year of high school, I wore a hat my sister had knitted for me, but lost it when my mom and I were checking out Fells Point. I was really ticked because it was something my sister had put a lot of work into and I really liked wearing it. So, instead of associating bad karma with the school, I decided that I would try to make my own hat. I sketched out ideas, looked at other hat patterns, and came up with this:

Since then I’ve made leg warmers, a fez, hand warmers, sweater motifs, and a Batman hat

I currently have a Superman hat in the works!

Writing patterns and knitting is so much more suitable for cold weather. Soft wool slipping through your fingers, smooth needles click clacking away, and the rhythmic hand motions are all very soothing.

I think it’s time to end this and take out my knitting. Productive Procrastination!

One of the things I’ve always valued and loved about the weekends is the Breakfast Ritual. It could be Saturday or Sunday, really, but I feel Sundays are better suited for this. Here are the basics:

1. Wake up without an alarm. It sets a nice unrushed feel to the day.
2. Tiptoe around the room so as not to wake your roommate.
3. Listen to The Dallas String Quartet and Jingle Punks Hipster Orchestra as you do the dishes.
4. Make (strong) coffee and a bowl of Marshmallow Mateys (ShopRite’s version of Lucky Charms)
5. Sit. Eat. Think. Ask Why?
6. Repeat step five for as long as you care to sit in solitude enjoying the quiet. Or until your roommates get up.

That is the start to a good morning. Just contemplating your life, thinking about what you want to do, not what you have to do, and ruminating why you chose the paths you did as the coffee kicks in.

Today, my Sunday morning questioning takes the form of this writing, and I’ve just hit all the marshmallows in the bottom of my bowl (I like to save the best for last).

I know asking really vague questions isn’t as fun as other things, or as comfy as staying in your nice warm bed. But sometimes it’s good to let your mind wander and take an uncharted and unplanned course. Which has led me to thoughts of yesterday afternoon.

I met with the same group of friends who gathered to talk about what authenticity is, but this time we focused on why people have trouble being authentic.

Why are we so afraid to be our true selves?
Why do we find the need to prescribe to societal standards that don’t always reflect our true inclinations or beliefs?
Why are we intimidated by letting people in?
Why are we afraid of being open or practicing self-acceptance?

The answers that come to mind without thinking are the ones most likely to be true. Peoples’ responses yesterday: Fear of rejection, fear of ridicule, fear of not being accepted for who we are. And the list goes on …

Those words: ridicule, rejection, acceptance, all bring me back to middle school bullies and trying to change who I was in high school (it took me a couple years to realize how much I was hurting myself and those around me in a fruitless battle to be “cool”). I’m 20 and I still have the fears of a 13-year-old. Please tell me I’m not the only one.

If I’m not the only one, then shouldn’t it be easier to reach out and connect with others, who undoubtedly want to feel like they belong at this school just as much as I do? Or is this a larger social problem, something that is impossibly huge and scary and multi-generational? Maybe it’s a combination of both.

Confession: If I felt that people were more open, I'd probably spike my hair more frequently.

You can't tell who a person really is just by looking at them. You have to ask and listen. Don't be afraid to initiate.

I know I don’t have the answers to all these questions, and I’m not asking you to, either. I also know I don’t have perfect solutions. But I have an idea about the (possibly subconscious) intimidation of others.

When you walk over the bridge on Charles St, or through College Center, unglue your eyes from your phone or iPod and look at people as you walk by. Smile and wave. Ask how they’re doing and mean it. Show interest in their life and well-being; they will reciprocate. You don’t have to go out of your way to be present to others. Just a nod will do. I know I’m not the best at this; sometimes I miss a wave or “Hey’” because my earbuds are in, but I’m trying to get better.

One thought and smile at a time.

Rain rain go away,
Come again another day.
Sandy you don’t need to be
so darn close to me.
Pumpkins, candy, trick or treat,
washed away down Charles Street.
Staying in is fun
when you have movies for everyone.

Yes, there is a hurricane coming my way, and I‘m so happy I don’t have classes tomorrow, but it’s also Halloween week and I am not letting Sandy dampen my days.

I really like Halloween. A lot. It’s possibly one of my favorite holidays. Probably because of it being in the fall (favorite season), but also because there are so many options to be had for its celebration.

I have very fond memories of trick-or-treating with my parents when I was little (except for the time I got chased by a teenager with a chainsaw. That was so not cool): going through the ritual of pumpkin carving, dress up, pictures, walking around the neighborhood, and as soon as I returned home, sorting through all the candy and giving my dad all the Almond Joys. As I got older, I went out with friends and in high school started the tradition of watching creepy “Doctor Who” episodes and sleeping over at someone’s house.

Now that I’m in college I can’t really go out trick-or-treating, but my roommates and I have found other ways to celebrate Halloween without going out only to be drenched by torrential rain and 60 mph winds.

We decorated our apartment early this month but we added some decorations this weekend:

I also sketched out some designs for our pumpkins while listening to Pandora’s Halloween music stations.

The week leading up to Halloween I wear festive earrings, and my roommates and I will be wearing Halloween appropriate clothing on Wednesday. I might even spike my hair!

I think the best part about Halloween in college (besides having an excuse to eat candy) is bonding over movies, whether they be horror, cheesy, classics, or down right strange. A bunch of my friends and I watched The Ward (by “watch”, I mean I sat with them facing the opposite direction of the TV and provided humorous sarcastic commentary based on their reactions) on Friday and have plans to watch A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum tonight.

I really miss the 1940s black and white “horror” movies like The Wolfman and Dracula. Oh, and you cannot miss Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy! Even though it isn’t really an official Halloween movie, The Rocky Horror Picture Show has to be one of my all time favorites of “strange” that is shown at this time of year. Make sure you have toast on hand when you watch it!

True, this kind of Halloween celebration is fairly low key, maybe not your typical college experience. I’d love to go to the Lantern Parade in the city, but Sandy kind of nixed that this year. Maybe next year will be clear and crisp and I can have an outdoor Halloween adventure!

I really hope no one ever goes by my window when I’m listening to music. Why? Because I will either a) be singing, or b) dancing, or c) a dramatic combination of both.

My dance moves are akin to the awkward flailings of a seal powered by the enthusiasm of Gene Kelly. I’m not as hard core as Napoleon Dynamite, but I still tango across the common room with my roommate to The Muppets version of “The Habenera.”

For me, dancing as if no one is watching and singing as if the walls aren’t paper thin are how I get the crazy build up of tension out of my system. You know those people who jiggle their foot incessantly in class? That’s me (sorry guys!). So coming home and just belting Florence + The Machine’s “The Dog Days Are Over” or dancing to Passion Pit’s “Take A Walk” while cooking dinner is a kind of therapy.

Of course, I wouldn’t be able to do this without trusting my roommates.

Having a good room environment is essential to having a good college experience. Some people say they’re OK just being acquaintances with their roommates; it’s only a place to sleep, eat and keep your stuff, right? Well, it works for some people, but not me.

As a freshman last year, I was really freaked out about having a roommate. I have a sister, but there’s a huge age gap so I was basically raised as an only child. As move in day approached, I got more and more anxious about my roommate.

What if she thought I was weird? What if she had completely different tastes in music? What if she studied all the time, or didn’t study at all? What if Loyola’s survey screwed up and I got put with the polar opposite?

Luckily, my worrying was pointless.

Sharing an apartment with five other girls was definitely a culture shock, but it turned out to be really fun. Part of this has to do with the sense of community Loyola builds within its dorms.

I was in an Alpha class, so I lived on a floor with other Alpha/Collegium students, which provided a sense of commonality starting day one. Throughout the year, my floor kept its doors open and I got to know almost everyone in my hall. My neighbors and I would have family dinners or get together to watch Once Upon A Time or Psych. We even made a fake family tree! (If you ever hear a guy call me Nana, this is why)

Sadly, not everything was always peachy keen. My room had its moments of tension last year, and I’ve heard horror stories from friends who just didn’t click with their roommates (not just at this school).

Overall, I lucked out and had a really good roommate experience and I’m super happy it’s continuing. Yes, this year I got to choose my roommates and yes they are really good friends, but the comfort level of what is essentially my home hinges on the room dynamic.
I don’t want to give a secret recipe for success, because let’s face it, every room situation is different. But here is what allows me to dance and sing without a care in the world:

1. The room is a judgement free zone.
2. Conflict? Bring it up ASAP. Talking it over helps.
3. Don’t be afraid to speak out, even if it’s to make a bad joke.
4. You don’t have to be best friends, but it’s cool if you are.
5. Share! Ask to share! Share without thinking! The fridge has only so many shelves.
6. Listen. With an open mind.
7. Hug and dance and sing.