Dorm Life Again

I wrestle the key into the doorknob lock and slowly swing the door open to reveal a living room with an old couch and several overstuffed chairs, a long table and seven doors leading to rooms and a bathroom shared with the next suite over. Glancing about, I select 231, my assigned room, and once again fumble with the lock until I manage to wriggle the door open.

A blast of musty air hits my nose. It smells like a gym locker where dirty socks have been left lying about for way too long. I plop my carry on and suitcase on a stripped down bunk bed and turn on the air conditioning unit beneath the window. More musty air spews into the room and I quickly realize that hot outside air is preferable to smelly cool air, so I open the single window and head back to the living room to let things air out.

All the doors in the suite are closed and I wonder if I am the only occupant. I am sure I am not since they said some people didn't get assigned to the sole dorm with air conditioning. Slowly over the course of the next few days I meet some of my suitemates, catch glimpses of others who choose to remain unintroduced. We are all following our interests, so don't necessarily keep the same hours. I am happy to have requested that I not have any roommate. That way I can crash at 9pm if I so desire and not be wakened by the comings and goings of someone else. Selfish. But also self defense.

I am both grateful for the room and somewhat bereft from its emptiness, its utter lack of aesthetics. The walls are sheetrock with leftover dings from a semester crammed with young vibrance. The floors a dingy blue outdoor carpet with stains and thin spots. The bedframes mostly look like unfinished lumber, the plainness matched by the desk unit. One wall is completely covered by floor to ceiling closet doors hiding drawers and shelf space.

I try to think what it would be like as a freshman away from home for possibly the first time, crowded into a sparse and uninviting suite with twelve unknown women, sharing a 2 stall bathroom with 24 strangers, trying to find myself, my identity, my purpose amongst the clutter and sameness. It's done on campuses everywhere all the time. Concordia was much the same. Forced community.

It's a wonder people don't get strangled with all the "in your space" requirements of living communally. I once thought it would be romantic and mysterious to live in a monastery, spending my time concentrating on things holy and divine. But those brothers (and sisters) also live communally and I am sure its not all that holy. People are, after all, different.

I recently read an article in a photo journal about a young photographer trying to capture the essence of a monastery, and his pictures were of old men who had roomed together for 50 years. Think of it! Being in a dorm for all your life, not just sharing, but caring enough for someone who is in your space to make sure they are alright, they are well, they are happy. Not owning anything personal. Not ever having privacy. Always being with others.

Perhaps I am just spoiled, but I need my privacy. I'm not sure how to fit that together with community. Growing up I shared a room with at least one sister, sometimes more. And the one sister I shared a room with most often ended up hating me. No community there. I get riled even with the boys living at home with whom I share not a bedroom, but common living space including a bathroom. Sometimes I want to wring their necks because they make MY space messy or full of stuff I don't appreciate.

I am less good at sharing than I used to be. Our culture is withdrawing into itself more and away from communal activity. We think we can survive just fine all on our own with little to no interaction with others. Boomer generation mentality? Possibly. My children are all about togetherness, spending time with friends. They think nothing of spending three weeks sleeping on someone's floor just to do stuff together. On the other hand, Kiel is a collector who never throws anything away but hangs on to it all. (Would you believe hundreds of tee shirts, some of them from first grade?).

Not me. There are a few things worth keeping, but I could easily fit my belongings in a shared dorm room. Still, I want togetherness on my terms. Most of the time I prefer solitude. Obviously I need to rethink and restructure this instinct, since I keep finding myself in dorm situations that require community. I have much to work on. And much to overcome. I wonder if I will ever get to the place where I truly don't see anything as exclusively "mine" but available to anyone who needs it. I'm sure not there yet. But before I end up in some sort of nursing home, I better get a bit farther down the road.