By Catherine LaCroix
Living at home for 18 years of my life, I never once had to share a room. Life was much easier that way: I had my own space where I could decorate according to my desire. Posters displaying my favorite actors and paintings were combined with furniture nicely in its place. Also, I could have peace and quiet whenever I wanted. Most of all, I didn’t have to invade anybody else’s space. But when I went off to college, all of that changed.
Move in day came faster than expected. I was the first one there. I had talked to my new roommate only once over the phone so I had no idea what her tastes would be like—if she were a partygoer or a shy bookworm. All that I knew was that she swam, so she had to wake up early most weekdays for practice. When I moved into the room with my family, I chose a side and started unpacking my stuff, trying to make my space as comfortable as possible. My roommate finally showed up with her mom and dad. I found out that night that she loved parties, stayed up late, and talked very loudly with her boyfriend from home.
This was difficult to get used to. Being a light sleeper at the time made nights before tests and papers very difficult. Not only that, she decorated her side of the room with pink, glitter, and feathers while my side consisted of many shades of blue, posters of famous paintings, and pictures from home. Needless to say, our styles were very different and we didn't have very much in common. She was the social butterfly of the dorm, athletic, and knew every party on campus. I, on the other hand, went to beach bonfires, coffee shops, and met people who would rather discuss the upcoming elections than what happened at Sigma Chi's Halloween Bash. It took me awhile to be able to branch outside of the dorm-mates in order to find the right people, but joining the clubs that I did made all the difference. Now that I had friends to go out with, study groups to drink coffee with, I became more comfortable and accepting of my roommate.
By the end of the semester I became a heavier sleeper, which was nice when my roommate would stay up late writing a paper or talking on the phone. I gained the confidence to ask her to talk with her boyfriend outside of the room when I was working, and even admired her efforts and style with decorating her side of the room.
Though my roommate and I never became good friends, I found that I was able to be courteous while living with another person in such close proximity, as well as flexible enough to compromise according to both her and my own tastes. Eventually, I found a friend who became my roommate and I can’t imagine living with anyone else. I actually miss her over the summer when I’m back home not sharing a room.
>>Back To Transition Tales Articles