Conundrum

Dunno what's worse: thinking you're happy and later realizing you weren't (or at least shouldn't have been), or thinking at the time you were going through a rough patch and later considering that rough patch to be one of your better times. It's a shitty feeling either way.

Sending Katherine off to college at the end of the summer made me nostalgic for freshman year. Then I realized that I wouldn't do my freshman year on B2 over again if you paid me and that I just miss the general idea of freshman year of college.

Independence

I didn't realize how much I've gotten used to doing stuff on my own until moving back home. I had my own room in the dorms last year, from August to May, and that was fun, if a tad lonely at times. Mostly on weeknights and during the daytime on weekends. Lots of reading, lots of sudoku, lots of Facebook. Too much Facebook, probably. It was the same this summer. I lived with Sean, Joe, and Pad, but Joe and Pad worked all day and I worked at night, so we didn't cross paths as often as you'd think. Besides, whenever we were all in the apartment, we all just kind of let each other be. We all kinda did our own thing, sleep-wise, entertainment-wise, food-wise. We didn't force our presences on each other too often, if that makes sense.

I'm kind of used to being left alone, as sad as that sounds. I don't mind spending a Wednesday night making headway in a good book or a Friday night going to a movie by myself (like I did last Friday - (500) Days of Summer was phenomenal). If I end up hanging out with other people along the way, that's great, but I've stopped believing that that's what I have to do to be happy. It's too much effort, making plans night after night after night just to avoid being alone. Or maybe I've just gotten used to it after years of practice.

But being home, I can't do my own thing like I'm used to. I've gotten accustomed to never being bothered, so when I get interrupted every ten minutes to 'come look at this thoughtful newspaper article' or 'meet the new neighbor's fiance,' it just grates on me after a while. I know that part of coming home is having every aspect of your life called into question ("Do you always sleep this late?"), but it's such a 180 from the past year of my life that I feel on edge all the time. They seem to just want me to be there, to hang around downstairs and be around them. And I know they're my parents, and they love me, and I love them, and all that, but I'm a creature of solitude. It's less stressful.

Meh, whatever. I'm leaving a week from tomorrow. I can power through till then.

From the archives.

Wrote this sophomore year of high school. Reading it now is weird, I can tell you that. What a difference five years makes. I want to either give my old self a hug or punch him in the face. Still a good bit of writing, though, I think.

Once, there was this kid. He wasn't really an unhappy kid, but sometimes things didn't go his way. He has a lot of people that know him, less that he calls friends, and even less that he calls good friends. He's not ignored or anything, he's not some kind of pariah. But whenever there's a party or some friends of his are getting together, for some reason they never call him to join in.

So here's this kid, living day by day, going to school, doing his homework, doing extracurriculars. He's not unhappy, again, but he's not really, truly happy. He knows that what would make him happy aren't good grades, or a scholarship to some college, but a group of really close friends that would just get him. Not a bunch of acquaintances that he's on good terms with, but people that he wouldn't hesitate for a second to call at 2 a.m. and ask some inane philosophical question. People who would drop pre-existing plans to hang out with him on a Saturday night. People who this usually quiet kid can actually talk around, because he knows that even if he says something stupid, he won't get made fun of and shut out for it.

One day, this kid goes to a Chinese restaurant. He gets a fortune cookie and opens it up. His fortune says, "You have the ability to touch the lives of many other people." Now, this really makes the kid think. He realizes that even if he doesn't have perfect happiness in his life right now, his mere presence might be making other people's lives a little bit better. The girl he comforts online when she needs some advice about her boyfriend. The guy who he helps with math homework during lunch. Being the “nice guy,” the dependable one, who's always willing to lend a hand. The kid realizes that maybe he's not destined to find happiness, true love, best friends. But maybe he's a catalyst. Maybe his purpose here on earth (and we all have one, I’m sure) is to make the lives of the people he knows better. In little ways, like holding a door, or maybe in big ways, like reconciling two fighting friends. Isn't that better, the kid ponders? Isn't it nice to know that you're out there doing good for people you love? That satisfaction of knowing that you did a good deed, as opposed to the different kind of satisfaction of knowing that your own life is complete?

Anyway, now this kid keeps that fortune in his wallet. He looks at it once in awhile to remind himself that his life isn't wasted. Even though he's got problems of his own, his mere existence makes peoples' lives better. And that makes him feel better for a while.

Quote

Every once in a while, something comes along right when you need to hear it the most. That's how it was for me with JD's final monologue in his last episode of Scrubs. I'd provide some kind of commentary on it, but it's best to just read it for yourself.

JD: Endings are never easy. I always build them up so much in my head they can't possibly live up to my expectations, and I end up disappointed. I don't even know why it matters to me so much how things end here. I think it's because we all want to believe that what we do is very important, that people hang on to our every word, that they care what we think. The truth is, you should consider yourself lucky if you even occasionally get to make someone, anyone, feel a little better.

...yeah.

Work

Finished my summer employment with The Daily Texan. It didn't pay well, but man, did I have fun every night. Everyone that worked there was really chill, and with all the downtime we had waiting for articles to come in and pages to get designed, there was plenty of time to jack around. Formed plenty of friendships that I hope won't die over the coming semester. There's no point in asking work friends if they want to hang out outside of work, because you see them often enough as it is. I feel a certain kinship even with people I didn't talk to very often. Just the fact that we sat next to each other six hours a day, three days a week, seems like enough to form some kind of bond. Coming in to work didn't even seem like work, to be honest, as cheesy as that sounds.

Last night was my last shift, and when the time came to pack up my stuff around 12:45 a.m., I didn't want to leave. It's not cool to make a big deal out of saying goodbye, so I just told everyone that I'd see them around and pushed my way out the door. Not that we had anything in particular to reminisce about or nostalgicize on, but still. I wanted to make it a bigger moment but didn't because it wasn't the right crowd.

I may or may not come back in the fall. I'm looking at getting a job at Starbucks or something, just so I can pull in a decent paycheck to keep myself afloat. I'm starting to think like an adult. It scares me a little.

But yeah. My job at the Texan was the sole bright spot in this otherwise craphole of a summer. Well, it wasn't terrible, I guess. Just...underwhelming.

Shoutouts to Ben, Austen, Thu, Olivia, Nolan, Lauren, and Priya. Hope to see you guys around in the fall. It's been a pleasure.

Summertime, and the wind is blowing outside

For the first time in a long time, I’m not just content. I’m—I’m optimistic. I don’t think I’ve looked forward to summer vacation this much since elementary school, back when summer still meant more fun instead of just less work. I remember looking forward to the neighborhood pools opening up, sleepovers at friends’ houses, day-long explorations of the woods behind my school’s soccer field, nighttime games of flashlight tag with the neighbors. In the same vein, I’m relieved that junior year and the RA gig are over with, but more than that, I’m legitimately excited about everything the next few months have to offer. I feel like I'm at the beginning of something, not the end.

I’m at home in Dallas right now, which is always great in small doses. I’m watching movies, reading for fun, catching up with the family, and making plans with a select few high school friends (because by now, other than that, what’s the point?). My bed is really, really comfortable; I’d almost forgotten. Next Wednesday, we’re heading up to Chicago for my cousin Eric’s wedding. I’m one of the groomsmen, so I’m just plain excited about getting to look all fancy in a tuxedo. Beyond that, though, Jones family get-togethers are always badass, on general principle. To people who don’t get me – spend ten minutes with this group, and you’ll understand why I am the way I am, and why I wouldn’t have it any other way. Cheesy, yes. Genuine, of course.

Two days after the wedding, I’m moving down to Austin. I’m staying with Sean, Joe, and Pad for the summer – anything’s better than the dorms, but this is a situation that I’m actually excited about, instead of one I can just live with (ba dum ching!). I’ve known all three of them since day one of freshman year, so I get the feeling that the four of us are going to have some good times together. A lot of my other friends are in Austin for the summer, as well. We’re finally all at the age (most of us incoming seniors, a few newly graduated, a few juniors) where we’re kind of expected to get jobs and apartments and to fend for ourselves. I’m cautiously optimistic that my birthday won’t suck this year, for a change. Plenty of people to hang out with, and plenty of time for it.

I have a job downtown at a nonprofit called the Fund for the Public Interest. I don’t know much about it, other than that I’ll be soliciting people for money and getting paid pretty well to do so. It’s a nine-to-five, meaning that I'm earning a constant and decent paycheck for the first time in my life. I do have rent to pay, after all. I even have to buy groceries, for Christ's sake. Beyond the job, what I do with my time is completely my own to decide. A friend of mine, Eric Welch, once made a joke that’s stuck with me: “I’d rather work at Wendy’s than go to school. Then, at least, I wouldn’t have to keep making chicken nuggets at home.” I’m feeling the same way – yeah, I have to get up early, and yeah, I’m working for eight hours straight, but once I get home, I don’t have to think about work again until I get there the next morning. You know those precious nights where you finish all of your homework well before dinner? Picture that, except every single night. I’m uncomfortably close to being an adult.

And it’s this free time with my friends that I’m looking forward to, more than anything else. I feel like I’m finally getting a taste of real life, now that every ounce of my time isn’t being consumed by homework or resume-enhancing extracurriculars or the dread that a resident is going to pound on my door the second after I’ve pressed “play” on the DVD player. I’m finally free to do what I want to do, whether it’s a day at Barton Springs or a night at home watching a South Park marathon on Comedy Central. It’s my choice, though, made independently of curfews or homework or external expectations. I feel like my real life is finally beginning (shoutout to the Colin Hay song). Here’s hoping that ten years from now, I remember the summer of 2009 not as the limbo between junior and senior year, but as the first time I stood on my own two feet.

The ABCs of Dorm Life

I’ve lived in the Quad for three years now, two as a resident, one as an RA. During my freshman and sophomore years, I tried to be an active member here – I hung out in lobbies, I met people, I went to events. By the end of each year, I knew a substantial portion of the community by face, major, and general personality, if not always by name. This year, on the administrative side, I’ve learned a lot about what it takes to make dorm life work. Having dedicated this much time to a single building and the people in it, I feel like I should have plenty to say about my experiences here. Some of it is common sense and some of it is probably truer for me than for anyone else, but I’d like to think that some of my musings are worthwhile enough to pass on.

Friends

There’s a period of about two weeks at the beginning of every school year when everyone is open to meeting new people. Take advantage of it. Leave your door open, meet all your neighbors, ask the girl in the lobby what book she’s reading, ask if you can tag along when you see a group going to dinner. No one knows anyone, so people are much more willing than usual to reciprocate any kind of effort that you make. The more seeds you plant at the beginning of the year, the more relationships you can potentially have later. You can be “that cool guy that I had dinner with that one time, who I always meant to get to know better” to as many people as you want. Once this window of opportunity closes up, trying to make friends with a stranger is just as awkward as it is in real life. Even if you and your next door neighbors and the guys across the hall form a tight group early on, people start showing their true colors around October or November, and you’ll realize that at least a couple of them are douchebags. You’ll want to branch out and make a new circle of friends, and it can happen, but it’s not nearly as easy as it would have been if you hadn’t closed yourself off early on.

Roommates

The best part of my RA job, bar none, is that I get my own room. One of my favorite feelings in the world is waking up in the morning behind a locked door and dozing for hours, knowing that people can’t bother me unless I let them. Most residents aren’t afforded this privilege. Dealing with roommates is one of the classic college issues that most incoming freshmen are worried about, and there’s not really a correct answer to this one. Sometimes it works out great – one of my best friends went potluck her freshman year and ended up living with the girl for all four years of college, two in the dorm, two in an apartment. Sometimes it’s not so great – insert any number of roommate horror stories that you’ve heard here.

Your roommate is the person that you’re going to spend the most time with over the next year. As such, try to give each other as much space as possible. If you have the choice of studying in your room or at the library, choose the library every once in a while. Go over to your friend’s place instead of inviting him over to yours. Kill time outside or in one of the lobbies or at Starbucks; don’t sit at your desk and play Flash games for hours at a time. Don’t be that guy who never leaves the room except to eat and go to class. If your roommate notices that you’re making an effort to give him privacy, he’ll reciprocate. Privacy is very, very hard to come by, and it’s very, very precious. The first thing I used to do at the beginning of each semester was to look at my roommate’s class schedule to see when I knew he’d be out of the room. That was my naked time, and it was glorious. The point is, stay out of each other’s hair and in each other’s good graces as long as you can. A time will come (oh, yes, it will come) when you want nothing more than to find/replace the word “and” with the word “penis” in his paper that’s worth 50% of his final grade. Ignore it. Outward hostility, especially with three months left to go, is too stressful. It's not that your roommate's a bad guy; neither of mine were, by a long shot. It's just that he's always there.

Pianos

This one is small but important. One of your dorm’s lobbies is probably going to have a piano for student use. Let’s say that piano hours are from ten in the morning through midnight. Yes, technically, you’re allowed to sit down at 10:01 on a Saturday morning and start pounding out Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. Don’t. Please, please don’t. Don’t sit down to play when there are more than ten other people in the room. Don’t play scales for half an hour, up and down, over and over. Don’t practice the same two measures twenty times in a row (don’t laugh, I’ve heard it happen). Don’t think that struggling through a vague approximation of the chords to “The Scientist” is going to get you laid. And, most importantly of all, no matter how good you are, don’t think that anyone is going to be impressed. We’re cynical college kids. Nothing impresses cynical college kids.

The RA

First of all, let me explain that the RA gig is a pretty sweet deal. We get free room and board and all that, but more importantly, it’s to a graduating college student’s resume what the Eagle Scout Award is to a high-schooler’s. Leadership experience? Check. Conflict management? Check. Public speaking? Check. Working as a member of a team? Check. The list goes on. I’d highly recommend applying for the job if you get the opportunity. Companies fall all over themselves to hire someone with this much voluntary community service, in a very literal sense of the term. It’s a lot of work, but it’s already started paying off for me.

The most important thing to understand about RAs is that everyone has a boss. With the occasional exception, we’re not power-tripping sadists who write people up (or, in DHFS lingo, “document incidents”) and dump hundreds of dollars’ worth of alcohol down the drain for kicks. We’re just trying to keep the peace and do our jobs. If there’s a party going on and I let it slide, my boss is going to ask me why I haven’t done anything about the half-dozen noise complaints I’ve received. I’m not particularly inclined to put my job on the line for something as inconsequential as a dorm-room kegger.

And if you honestly believe that no one can tell what you’re doing behind these paper-thin walls, you’re kidding yourself. Maybe your next-door neighbor just wants to crash for sixteen straight hours after an all-nighter. Robbing a college student of sleep is a cardinal sin. You’re affecting more people than you think you are. Yes, you can pack fifteen people into your tiny dorm room, blast music, and drink yourselves sick, but is that really the most fun thing you can think of to do on a Friday night? In Austin? Really? And while we’re on this topic…

Alcohol

I would highly advise that your first drinking experience not be during your first weekend of college. As cool as your new friends are, and as well as you’re getting along, and as much as you know you’re all gonna be best buddies for the next four years, in the end, they’re the new neighbors that moved in three days ago. Odds are good that they’re more concerned with having a good time themselves than with baby-sitting you. They’re not gonna watch how much you’re drinking, they’re not gonna tell you to take it easy for a while, they’re not gonna suggest that you sit this round out, get some water. They just won’t care that much, and it’s not their job to, because if you don’t know what you can and can’t handle, you’re already miles behind. If you’re going to drink in college (and let’s face it, you probably will), know what you’re doing in advance. People who partied in high school won’t have a problem. People who didn’t, get together with a couple of friends over the summer, designate someone to stay sober, and experiment. Seriously. Save yourself the embarrassment.

In Conclusion

I’m going to miss the Quad. I really am. You know how sometimes, you’re at a party, and you suddenly realize that all your friends left while you were on the back porch chatting up the cute girl who turns out to have a boyfriend, and you’re not ready to call it a night, but you don’t know anyone at the party anymore, and that’s kind of awkward, so you drive home and watch a couple South Park reruns on your computer before going to bed? I suspect that’s the feeling that I’m going to have every day next year when I finish class, the resignation to spending the rest of the day in the netherworld that is my West Campus apartment. I’m going to miss knowing everyone. I’m going to miss reading by the statue. I’m going to miss LOST parties in the Q. I’m going to miss Tuesday Night Midnight iPod dancing. I’m going to miss chatting with Rey (the night guy with the beard) till four in the morning ‘cause he’s there and I’m not tired. I’m going to miss that designated spot where my group of friends meets every night without fail to hang out and pretend to do homework.

Dorm life has its drawbacks (i.e., sharing your bathroom with fifty-five other dudes and not being allowed to have friends over past 11:30), but there’s nothing else like it at any point in your life. You have to enjoy it while you can, because once it’s gone, you can never get it back.