Move-In

Walking along Westwood, I played with my new glasses. The difference between what I see now and what I used to see is startling. Upon lifting them above the field of my vision, I experienced a weird visual sensation akin to being stoned. This only added to the lucidity of Move-In Day.

My family and I successfully transported everything to my room in one trip. The room itself was not hard to find. When I got there, one roommate had already moved in. Since our bed situation was pre-arranged via Facebook, no squabbling took place. I did manage to snag the desk facing the window (which has a pretty great view, compared to the view of suburban cookie cutter homes I'm used to) and the adjacent closet.

I found that as I unpacked things, and my mum aided, I was growing increasingly restless and nervous. I did not feel as if I had to energy to keep up with the change around me, and it left me feeling quite odd. Finally, I did manage to get everything in its right place, and instead of going to dinner, my mum and brother decided to leave and cut the umbilical cord, leaving me here, surrounded by 25,000+ people, yet all alone.

My second roommate arrived about an hour later; all of us made small talk while unpacking. It became quite clear to me, after hanging my Pink Floyd and Who posters, that I was the least "girly" female in the room. Regardless, I think we all get along quite well and that's really what matters, right?

After unsuccessfully wrangling people to accompany me to dinner, I decided to venture out alone. For familiarity's sake, I went to Covel. The food was good, as always, and it was a nice change of pace from the microwaved meals I am used to. After making a few phone calls and changing into PJs, I climbed into my top bunk (without falling) and attempted to sleep in a bed much higher and smaller than my bed at home.

Needless to say, sleeping was difficult. I kept waking up to rotate myself; also, the fan I had mounted to the wall was fluctuating and irritating the living hell out of me. But I woke up for good around 9 and found that with one roommate actually not present in the room and one asleep, I could read the news in peace. One thing I have found incredibly irritating is that there is one ethernet outlet. This is good news for me, because I am right next to it, but bad news for everyone else. Basically, we are going to have to split the cost of a wireless router for our dorm room, which only adds to the costs I already have to incur (splitting the cost for renting a microfridge).

Reinforcing the fact that I am clearly not as feminine as my roomies, I took three minutes to get dressed and ready and ended up going to eat breakfast alone. This is something I do not really mind, because it is difficult to make conversation while eating anyways. I returned to my dorm and sorted out some financial things, documenting it with OneNote (which, if you don't have, you NEED). After that, I decided to go on an adventure.

I made my way off the campus and down Westwood, searching for boba. I came across a place called Boba Loca, which in addition to being fairly reasonably priced, has a great studying/lounging atmosphere and WiFi. I finished Machiavelli's The Prince to a Thai tea with boba, while listening to medical students talk about their experiences. I have a feeling I will be returning there often. Afterward, I meandered through the Westwood Farmer's Market to the tune of a saxophonist playing on the corner for change. It was then I found Buffalo Exchange, a clothing store. I browsed and bought a cheap over-shirt and necklace with store credit. Another place I know I will frequent. To wrap it up, I went to CVS to pick up a multivitamin and, to my dismay, failed to find a eye cover for using when I sleep (something I deemed essential due to my intolerance of lights).

One feature of Westwood I would like to point out is the diagonal crosswalk. I did not think such a thing could exist; the use of the hypotenuse for crossing, to me, is such win. Basically, the way it works is all traffic is stopped, allowing all the crosswalks to be used. In addition to cool things I have seen so far, I also saw someone being airlifted to the roof of the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. After stopping by the UCLA Store and the Wooden Center, I returned to an empty dorm room to reflect.

To paraphrase Paul, "Don't be surprised if you're pissed off a bit during the first week of college." Though I would not say I am pissed off, I'm certainly confused. Making friends, or for that matter, meeting people, has so far proved difficult. Granted everyone's sort of spralled about, and there are an excess of several thousand students, but it's a little irritating. I have been led to believe this will change once class starts up and I join a club or two. Also, there has not been much to do. Granted there is the Bruin Bash tonight, but unfortunately my magical adventure led me to forget to pick up a wrist band. So thus far I have been trying to occupy my time in other ways. On a somewhat related note, I realized that I forgot a few things, namely my free planner / orientation stuff and my coconut, which is sitting in my fridge at home, probably crying.

I do have things to look forward to, though. Tomorrow is the giant activities fair / freshie welcome stuff, and Tuesday I have an interview for the ARC Medical Program. And once classes start up, I can almost guarantee that I will simply love college.

Wish You Were Here

R.I.P.
Richard Wright
1943-2008

Great, Expectations

Paul and I drafted a working theory about what happens after high school while standing in line for Grad Night check-in. The reason the line was taking so long to progress, we deduced, was that they wanted to be subtle about gassing the students into unconsciousness. From there, they were locking the dazed in janitorial closets until daybreak, where they would resume high school. But school was now longer – sixteen hours a day, every day of the week. I could imagine my perky government teacher smirking with a sharp cackle, “Oh, so you thought you could leave? Ha!” Soon enough we would discover that our peers whom we assumed were off at college enjoying their freedom were tied up in the closets nearest the whiteboard. Those who sat in the closet would tell of the horrors. The people who we did presume to be college students were in reality just clones, molded by a mix of chewed gum and cafeteria food.

My other friend poked me through the mob of sweaty, impatient students, “Look – we’re the next ones in!” Regaining conscious awareness and forgetting the bitterness that came with the two-hour wait, I cautiously stepped inside, awaiting my fate.

Other than being felt up by a proctor, I cannot say that anything unusual happened that night. To my knowledge. Though, admittedly, the morning and day after, I felt delirious enough to occasionally think otherwise. The whole experience, or lack thereof, did prompt me to reflect on expectations I had going into high school. The prominent emotion that many of my peers felt before coming to high school was fear – fear that classes would be overwhelming and drama would ensue. I really was not too intimidated. And rightly so; high school ended up being a rather lackluster experience, with few positive memories to outshine the negatives. High school was dull and boring, shattering the line I had been force fed so many times – that high school was the “best time of your life."

And here I am now, a month before I start college at UCLA. My best friend, Paul, left for his college in Portland Tuesday, and for the most part, I am left to face many of the same myths and fears for college that I had about high school. Before he left, we joked that after all the time we had been waiting for college, it would just be a larger, more depressing repeat of high school. But I take our cynicism with a grain of salt. We are both going to great schools, schools we chose to attend. And through a rather lengthy and roundabout way, I would like to make my point. I am not nervous or frightened about the work load that college may bring, nor daunted by the task of having to carve out a cave in the social cliff side. I think if high school did anything besides jade me further, it helped me in some sadistic way become a more mature person (note: correlation does not prove causation). Now more than ever I want to be off on my own, doing things independently, from scheduling my classes to washing my skivvies. And I hope that by finding time to write in this blog, I may be able to chronicle what may actually be the best years of my life.