"How long have you been there?"
"I think I'm going on seven weeks or something ridiculous like that."
"Wow, that's a really long time."
"Yeah, I know. Seems like I've been here forever."
------------------------------ I left Terryville, Connecticut, for the University of Arizona on August 17th--forty-seven days ago. Throughout high school I never looked forward to going to college. I had never been away from home for more than a week at a time, and the idea of living someplace completely different with people who (initially at least) were total strangers didn't appeal to me.
There was something else that bothered me about the idea of leaving for college. The friends I had known that had gone off to college before me seemed to have changed when they came back. I don't mean "changed" in an overly obvious way, as if they had become completely different people. It was something very subtle about the way they acted, how they said things, the way they thought about certain subjects, their mannerisms, their reactions to aspects of the world around them. You could never pinpoint what it was exactly, except to say you could tell they were different somehow. Some small part of them had been altered--too small to be named, but great enough for you to be able to firmly state that something was different about them.
This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Humans are progressive beings. They adapt, evolve, mature, and grow wiser (ideally anyway). Change is to be expected, and in the case of a person you haven't seen in long time the change is likely to be more pronounced. But it was altogether unsettling to think about. What was it about college that changed people? Was it the disconnection from everyone and everything they once knew? And for someone like me who was going to a college that, unlike the destinations of most of my high school compatriots, would be much farther away from anything familiar, would the changes I was going to experience make me a great deal different? Would they change me so much that I'd be unable to reconnect with everyone and everything once I did come back home?
------------------------------ "If we cut ourselves off from people, we are giving ourselves a foretaste of Hell."
------------------------------ When I first moved into my dorm I was entering a system I knew nothing about. Everything was foreign to me. I took it all in the only way I could--step by step. I filled out the forms. I got my room key. I met my roommates. I picked up my books. I looked up the buildings where my classes were located on a map. I planned my day.
I went to class. I went to the Student Union to eat. I finished my homework. I did my laundry. I repeated this.
And repeated it.
And repeated it.
And repeated it.
Now I know the whole routine. I know how long it takes for the washing machines and the dryers to run. I know where I can pick up my mail and where I can drop off letters. I know where I can get a pizza at 2am. I figured out what to ask for at the On Deck Deli (now their employees are starting to recognize me and remember what constitutes "the usual" sandwich). I know how long I have to study for each class. I know my roommate's family, my next-door neighbors, my hall RA.
I figured out how to live here. I came up with a pattern for my new life at my new home. It's completely absorbing. This room is the last thing I see when I go to sleep at night. It's the first thing I wake up to in the morning. College is everything. There is nothing else anymore.
------------------------------ "...i just feel like somethings wrong, i dont blame you if you're upset or w/e about everything... you're alone, bored with everything... and im sorry for that, im just trying to help... we usually sit on the phone for hours laughing about random stuff, having fun talking about absolutely nothing relevant, and i miss it... i wouldnt be your friend if you werent a fun interesting person, but lately i feel like you died a little inside, and i just want to make you smile..."
"arizona seems so exotic to me... well the whole west coast does... so i'll hear anything about it... whats the sand like there? is it similar to the beach sand here or more gritty lol"
------------------------------ It's funny how you can forget about things that were once common in your day-to-day life. I'm not taking the trash out on Thursday nights or the recycling every other Sunday. I don't wash dishes after meals. My clothes aren't covered in dog hair. I'm not mowing the lawn on the weekends. I'm not going to church on Sunday mornings (mostly because the nearest Russian Orthodox church is over a mile from my dorm). I'm not taking showers in my own private bathroom. I'm not watching TV from a comfy leather couch.
There are a lot of things I miss about home since I left.
I miss having a really good meal. I'm the kind of person who can easily alternate between having pasta, sandwiches, chicken, hamburgers, and pizza every day and be happy with that. I have simple tastes. But the finer foods are what I miss, like pork chops, shrimp scampi, sauteed green beans, and krapes. I miss the taste of them, the texture, the anticipation of consuming them and the satisfaction of having done so.
I miss having the ability to get up and drive wherever I want, whenever I want. I miss not having the option of going anywhere to do anything. I miss just being able to drive my car, in control of the vehicle, the sound of the engine, alternating between gas pedal and break, my hand sliding across the steering wheel, navigating a course through the backroads of my hometown.
Above all, I miss the people. Family. Friends. Girlfriend. (Especially the girlfriend.) People I use to see on a regular basis that, if nothing else, made everyday life normal. Talking with them. Laughing with them. Dining with them. Hanging out with them. Living with them.
I count the days until I can experience it all again. I wish for those days. I pray for those days. I even have dreams about them. They are the memories of what my life was like before I came here.
They are memories of being happy.
They are memories that fade more and more by the day.
------------------------------ "...But then I began to feel and say to myself, why should I just always be trying to get by or be living off temporary highs to satisfy me and keep me 'happy'? I started thinking that I need to enjoy the in-between times, the everyday, my life! It is a lot easier said than done of course. Change is so hard, no matter what it is. And we have to give ourselves a break, not be so hard on ourselves. Change doesn't happen overnight. That's okay! Happiness is a journey, not a destination..."
------------------------------ I'm going to be here for quite awhile longer. The next time I'll be home is still a long ways off, but moreover I will be spending two thirds of the year here for the next four years--assuming I don't transfer, drop out, or take what is known as a "leave of absence." That's a long time to be repeating the routine. That's a long time to be missing so many things.
Will I start to consider my life at college as my "normal" life? Or will this always feel foreign to me, with the life I had back home always remaining the life I'm living, only taking breaks from it now and then to come here?
Life at college really has become a new life for me--new room, food, friends, climate, and a new procedure to everything I do from one day to the next.
Is this what changed my friends when they went off to college? Is this what's going to change me?
Do I want it to change me?
I never looked forward to going to college while I was in high school anymore than I looked forward to going to high school while I was in middle school. But at least when I was finally done with high school I felt like I had reached a moment, however short-lived it might have been, that everything was perfect.
I hope that wasn't the last time I'll ever feel like that.
(References in this article: a conversation between Holly Lutters and Stefan Koski, a quote from Fr. John Hopko, an email from Trisha Birkenberger, a letter from Rachel Fazio)