I’m so fucking hungry. The food in the university cafeteria is hardly edible, and I rarely have someone to eat with. Best-case scenario, I get a deli sandwich with some diseased-looking tomatoes and sit with one of my roommates. Worst-case scenario, I panic at the prospect of having to sit with strangers, grab an overripe banana from the fruit stand, and run out as if the place were on fire.
I know that the cafeteria food isn’t the real problem. I haven’t been going to school-wide functions, and so I’ve been having trouble meeting people. Saturday night, I turned down an invitation to an ’80s throwback “prom” in favor of going to the movies solo. I don’t regret skipping the party, but I need to make some friends, fast. I still want to transfer, but this is not a bad college, and sitting around moping about my mistakes is pathetic and stupid. I signed up for our student paper, am considering joining an extra music ensemble, and tentatively marked the date of the first creative-writing club meeting on my calendar. I’m not married to any of these things, but they may give me the chance to meet people—a chance I’ve been denying myself so far.
Not that I haven’t met people. I’ve met tons of kids this week, many of whom I liked. But those encounters have fallen roughly into three categories: (1) brief introductions where we don’t find out anything about each other; (2) the other person came to college with a group of friends and doesn’t need any more; or (3) there was an obvious mutual lack of interest.
Ugh, all of that sounded so bratty. It kind of is. I need to grow up and realize that most of my mistakes are from self-sabotage, and that many of those mistakes are fixable or not that big of deals. I also need to keep an open mind about my college. Even though I’ve filled out a good portion of my transfer applications, I really do want to make this work. In fact, after my first week of classes, I feel like I might stay. I like most of my professors, and I think I will be challenged in one or two of my classes.
Also, my roommates are turning out to be really great. The only thing that’s weirding me out is how much hair we collectively shed in one week. I just vacuumed the bathroom, and it kind of felt like I was taking a carpet off of the floor.
Unrelated to stray hair, I just had a goodbye dinner with my brother. We ate and talked, and at the end of it, I showed him my dorm room. Then he left to go back home. Saying goodbye is hard, but not as hard as it used to be. Two years ago, when he left for college, I curled up in my room and sobbed, thinking nothing would ever be the same. I still feel sad, but now I know that nothing’s ever being the same can be good. ♦