Our Fresh Frosh columnists will be spending the year documenting their transition from high school to Northwestern life. Check out all four of our writers — and read their stories.
There is nothing like being greeted by a dog. The second weekend of school I went into Chicago with a friend to dog sit for her aunt. Arriving at the apartment at around 11:30 p.m., we were welcomed by a bounding one-year-old dog. This puppy was no puppy in size and nearly knocked me off my feet around ten times throughout the course of the evening. She slobbered all over my face whenever she could reach it and ran around in circles, begging me to play with her. I loved it. She immediately reminded me of my own dog, Kobe. Sasha, the dog that we were sitting that night, had given us a welcome that one only experiences when entering a home.
I looked around this home and was surprised by the pleasure that seeing a kitchen and a carpeted living room with couches afforded me. “Wow,” I told my friend. “This place is really cozy.” True, the apartment was cozy, but it was no cozier or more luxuriously furnished than any of my friends’ basic apartments at home. The apartment had a squishy carpet, a bed nearly three times as wide as the one that I sleep in in Bobb and a dog. That’s when I realized that there’s nothing at college quite as comforting as home.
At college, we enjoy the perks of living with hundreds of other students our age. We never have to be alone; we always have something academic or extracurricular to do and we can party whenever we want. At times, life is overwhelmingly awesome. At other times it’s overwhelmingly stressful. Basically, college is always overwhelming. (See past productivity column on how it made my mind explode.) In order to cram in as many activities as possible into a given day we have to sacrifice eating, sleeping or chilling. We sacrifice comfort in order to exploit opportunities. Thanksgiving has become the new finish line in the race to get through the craziness. Although we forfeit certain solaces, we can find consolation in mementos of our past.
When I’m away from home and need comfort, I listen to Eminem, a secret obsession, to remind me of my childhood. I also jump on any chance I get to eat a burrito because they are a delicious reminder of home. We have to find the minute tokens of home life to comfort us in a crazy (and arguably unhealthy) environment. As long as everyone finds their Eminem or their burrito, we will make it to Thanksgiving. Hint: Occasional dog slobber helps.