I've decided I want this blog to take on a new purpose. Over the past two months, I've had to deal with some pretty ridiculous goings on in my dorm. Looking back on these moments, I think most of them are hysterical and the world deserves to hear about them. So, starting today, I'll be writing about my life here at college. To protect the individuals involved I won't be using their real names and I won't be giving away any personal information about them. With that, please enjoy The Circus in Cheverus.
About a month before I entered my freshman year at college, I found out that I would be living in a forced triple much to my chagrin. For those who don’t know, a forced triple is a room built for two people that is actually occupied by three. Right off the bat I knew the room would be cramped. I worried about the dreaded “roommate alliance”, the idea that two roommates formed a strong friendship while the third was basically left in the dust. As every teenager does, I hit Facebook immediately to search for both of my future roommates. The first, who I’ll call Joe Smith, seemed…interesting. We had a lot of the same likes (a few television shows, etc) but at the same time something was a little funky. His religious views said Islamic, which would be a new experience for me seeing as I had spent the last thirteen years in Catholic school. That wasn’t what was out of the ordinary however. It struck me as odd that he had an album full of pictures that he had so cleverly named “GOodnight u fucking rapists”…
“Ok, that’s a little weird” I thought to myself but I didn’t give it any other thought. In retrospect, I really should have. It’s not really the most normal thing to throw the word rapist around (even though it’s not uncommon to hear kids say “Yo, I totally raped that test man!”)
I couldn’t really get a feel for my second roommate (let’s call him Charlie MacAvoy) except that everyone who saw his profile picture kept telling me “You have a bro for a roommate!” What an interesting expression: bro. I wasn’t really sure what it meant for him to be a “bro” but my friend was all too happy to explain: “You know, like lax bros and like, bro-ing out. Basically, very douchey and they’re obsessed with themselves.” I wasn’t really sure how they were getting that impression just from one picture, but nonetheless up until I met Charlie I was convinced I was going to be rooming with a bro and was already trying to think up sitcom names for the room (my personal favorite was “Pinky and the Bro”).
We started up a thread for the three of us to talk about concerns, who was bringing what, and to get to know each other. Charlie’s idea was for each of us to talk about ourselves in general so we could get a feel for each other before we got to school. Red flags went up when Joe sent his reply: “I was born in Alexandria, Egypt and I am islamic. Ive had to deal with racism a lot in my life, and I got into [our college] partially because of that.” I read the first sentence and kind of said “oh that’s interesting” and THEN I hit the second sentence. “What does that even mean?” my mom said when I read it aloud to her. I understood the fact that he had to deal with racism all his life “But what does it mean that he got into your school because of that?” I didn’t know and neither did anyone I ask. Was it a prerequisite I missed out on? I’m sure my school was interested in having a larger group of Muslims attending the school, but I am also willing to bet that if he had put on his Common App essay “I’ve dealt with racism all my life” that the reader would jump up and proclaim “I’ve read enough! He’s dealt with racism all his life, so he’s in!”
My aunt, one of the smartest and funniest people I know, called it: “You’re going to have a hard time living with him. He’s already playing the race card” I scoffed and told her she was being ridiculous. When I had to rush home two weeks into college with Charlie, I was greeted with the biggest “Oh I SO called this shit” face. Good call, Zia.
