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I've lived in central Indiana my entire life. Born and raised. A tiny farmhouse literally surrounded by cornfields. One year soybeans, the next corn, then soybeans again...and soybeans were my favorite years. Cornfields caused too many close calls for car accidents down the road when you couldn't see if anyone was coming. More often than not, someone was coming.
I've never known what it was to have neighbors until now. Today, I'm basking in my own luck of living in Alumni Hall surrounded by the high pitched screams of the new and ecstatic sorority girls, the blasting "gettin' ready to go out for the night" music, the football and basketball players right above me playing football and basketball RIGHT ABOVE ME, and of course, the sweet sweet scent of Ramen and Mac & Cheese. A dream come true...if you like that sort of thing. When I was younger I lived too far away to be able to ride my bike to meet any of my friends. Now, I place one foot out the door and I'm surrounded by doors covered from top to bottom and side to side with brightly colored wrapping paper always cleverly themed to the time of year. If I take about two steps out of my door more often than not I find myself face to face with my best friends. A sincere dream come true.
It's a common experience, no? Life in the dorms. Moreso, a learning experience. I'm brand new here surrounded by other brand news. This is where it's beginning for us. And where we'll look back at and scratch our heads during an attempt to figure out how we even survived it once we're living nowhere near here. But we'll laugh at how observant we had no choice to learn to be. The third floor east always smelled of food. A combined mixture of everything you could imagine which amounted to the gagging scent of garbage. The west side smelled good. Sweet perfumes. We'd always walk out the west side door. During the week, the fourth floor smelled like a boys locker room and as soon as you'd step through the door, it'd feel like one too. The air thick and jockish. But on the weekends we'd walk through just to get a wiff of their cologne. The fifth floor was its own environment. Clean, fresh, quiet. Intensive study. And the rest of the building? Well, we never ventured to the second floor because we liked jocks better. And the first floor was used as either our exit or the entrance of our freshman 15...Jimmy Johns, Dominos, what have you.
This is our beginning. These great halls will hold some of our fondest memories, yet our biggest complaints. And could it ever really get any better than that? I believe I speak for every resident when I say, yes...yes it actually could be better. But here we are with no choice but to be taught...to teach ourselves.
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