Tales from the dorm

Sometimes I feel like I'm suffocating in my room.

Another thing I've discovered (my goodness, I'm learning more about myself since I posted that than ever before) about myself since coming here is that I? Need my alone time. Really.

With two roommates (practically three, since another girl is over all. the. time) in a TINY room, I'm rarely alone. We're all scrunched up on top of each other and usually at least one other girl is in here at all times. Lately, these past few weeks, it's become too much for me.

I feel trapped in my room, trapped by loud, squealing girls who talk about the boys they're crushing on or sing Michelle Branch songs obscenely loudly. I, on the other hand, scrunch up as much as I can into my bed and dream about silence. And alone time.

I love my roommates, I really do. But I can't take their constant cheeriness, the thousands of questions they ask me (they're worse than the kids I nannied for, truly), the music, the bright lights...hi, I'm a mellow yellow child. I like the lights dimmed, quiet music playing if anything at all (Philip Glass, Iron & Wine, Amos Lee, Norah Jones, "Stairway to Heaven"...you get the drift), and MY space.

Lately I've found myself having to escape. I'll flee to a friend's room nearby, where she rarely is, and savor the quiet. And peace. Just me. I'll go to the food court in the building next door (unaffiliated with my school) just to get OUT. And I dread going back into my room simply because I know once there, I'll be faced with: bright lights. Loud noise. Questions. More questions. Incessant cheeriness. And as I reach the end of the year, the stress of exams, final projects, moving out, HOLY CRAP I NEED STORAGE, etc., all weighing heavily upon my shoulders, I find myself desperately wishing to be home.

Next year will be better, I reassure my weary self. I'll have my own little room within a suite, my own space. In the meantime, I'm using my headphones even when I'm not playing music. I'm faking sleep so that they'll talk a bit quieter, turn the music down, use only lamps instead of our jarring overhead light. And I'm plunging headfirst into work, school, and packing up to move out.

Though, I'll leave you with a happy note amid this dreary post (just needed to get it out): I was leading a tour group, and after the traumatic elevator experience last month, I was VERY firm that only 10 people could be in the elevator. Since my tour group was bigger than that, I sent a group of 10 up and waited for another elevator with the remaining people.

"You could've gone with the first group, little lady," said a man. He was old, all wrinkled skin and flyaway white hair. "You weigh as much as half a person, you'd have fit in."

I know he was just being sweet, but still, it made my day!