The On-Campus Blues

Published October 16, 2007

By Lauren Foley

After a certain amount of time in the dorms, a case of the blues is inevitable. Granted, living on campus has its perks. We’re right next to classes. We don’t have to cook. We don’t have to write those dreaded rent checks every month or pay electric or Internet bills. Nonetheless, when I am hanging out at my friends’ apartments, I can’t help but want one of my own, despite the fruit fly infested, overpriced, often robbed, shoddily built structures they may be.

Freshman year in the dorms presented us with a world of possibilities within the space of four cinderblock walls. We were liberated from our pubescent existences, enlightened, and free. But there comes a point when playing games of Tetris with your furniture gets old and you no longer have the urge to buy pretty throw rugs, matching clothes hampers, or over-the-door shoe racks. When walk-by noise begins to seriously mess with your sleep patterns and Sodexho wreaks noticeable havoc on your digestive system, you know you have had enough. Finally, there comes the realization that there is nothing you can do that will ever make that room more than it is: a cube that has serviced you in terms of shelter and protection while simultaneously preventing you from living in the outside world.

As college students, we have been trained to accept things that would otherwise be seen as strange: loud dance parties in the hallway, eight or so girls baking a birthday cake in the dingy dorm kitchen, and numerous empty beer cans left to rot on windowsills. Compromises are necessary. However, compromise tends to fall out of favor after having to listen to strangers pee every night while you brush your teeth. At which time you find yourself thinking that $600 a month for a private bathroom is a fantastic bargain.

Two years ago, when UVM announced it was going dry, it didn’t seem to be a big deal. Most of the students on campus weren’t supposed to be drinking anyway so the new rules were inconsequential. I was one of these students, but now I am definitely not singing the same tune. Next month, I will be 21. Although there is little possibility that I would actually consume alcohol in my dorm room, I would still like the option of doing so. Alas, even at 21, I may be forced to resort to drinking wine behind a closed door, having my friends jiggle the handle before coming in. The pleasures of living on-campus continue to overwhelm me.

In hopes of studying abroad second semester, I stayed on-campus as a way of avoiding dealing with a sublet. However, there are many different reasons why upperclassmen still live on campus-RA jobs, financial reasons, or they may just like the convenience of it all. Whatever the reason might be-everyday, we fight the battle of staying sane in this environment. Freshmen and sophomores may not understand where I’m coming from-campus probably still seems like a happy little community, which it surely is. However, there comes a time when that community needs to grow, needs to expand. That is a student’s cue to start browsing the classified ads, looking for a little downtown abode to call her own.

As for the blues, try to stay peppy and positive upperclassmen. If worst comes to worst, declare yourself a squatter and pitch a tent in your friend’s living room. Offer to buy some booze, and they may let you stay for free.

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