L/L: Suite Love

Published March 27, 2007

By Lauren McGonagle-Akin

Anytime my grandparents ask me about college, I usually cite some quirky aspect of my living situation in a Living and Learning suite. My parents, who have already made a couple of trips up here, usually just ask me if I’m still living in filth.

For those unfamiliar with the L/L Center, let me just tell you that it’s wonderful. You apply to student-run programs ranging anywhere from Anime to Zoology and then live with your fellow program members in a suite situation: six bedrooms, two bathrooms and a living room.
The suite situation lends itself to severe and unusual untidiness. During both my years here at UVM, the common room has put up a fair share of the university’s temporary vagrants, acquired an unbelievable number of doodads and thingies, housed an ever-expanding collection of houseplants, and collected residue of many, so many, varieties.

While maintaining cleanliness is one of my prized personality traits, L/L has captured my heart and woven itself into the enchanted and messy fabric of my UVM experience.

If you’ve ever sat on a balcony watching drunken kids shuffle home from a party, waxed poetical over the fishbowl or gotten lost in the maze of identical-looking hallways entitled “Low,” “Mid” and “High,” then you have probably come to know the L/L way, even if you haven’t lived here.

You’ve probably also noticed its dramatic turn towards a decorative vibe which calls Fletcher Allen to mind, and the oppressive act of balcony removal. The fishbowls have been rendered inaccessible. I half expect to see tumbleweeds in slow abandoned orbit every time I peer out an effectively sealed second story window.

Many endearing L/L staples remain: bagels, highly creative Vegan meals, exotic and free cuisine at most any L/L event. Catch the clay studio at Raku time for a spectacle of tongs, red-hot pottery and sawdust. Meander through C-Building to find funhouse mirrors, crates of toys, and potential toddlers.

Grab some pajamas, turn off the lights, and crawl into bed, all while effectively dodging RAs in your common room! Lastly, expect bell peppers to be included in every Marche entrée.

The “suite situation” has proven to be profoundly ideal. The intimacy I’ve experienced within my suites is startling. There is a lot to be learned from sharing a space with people you have an outright connection with; however, true self-discovery is more readily available when sharing a space with those whom you outright, can’t fucking stand.

L/L has effectively condensed the Buddhist Eightfold path down to one simple step containing six unique dimensions: living with roommates. I assert that living assignments in L/L are a toss of the I-Ching writ large, an active and hormonal tarot schema.

Those of us who have chosen to live here, somehow came across UVM, encountered L/L, thought a certain program looked nice, and let fate take its course. We met our suitemates, narrowly maintaining some prefabricated notion of commonality, and embarked on a tour of the breadth of human habits, interests, and capacity.

Here’s the crux: we all chose to live here never really understanding what and who “here” was comprised of. We only knew that this living situation was supposed to be some sort of reflection of ourselves. Existence in general, upon closer observation, often reveals itself to be just that. College is certainly no exception.

So I guess I owe one thank you of many, to the carnival that is L/L for creatively unveiling this often-frustrating universal law, and maintaining such an honest and up-front title.

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