When
you graduate from High School, you feel like you know everything. You know how
to lie to your parents about what time you came home from that party last
night. You know how to sneak into the gym you don’t belong too so you can play
basketball with your boys. And most importantly, you know just how much toilet
paper you can put in your toilet without clogging it. There’s no denying it,
you feel like a badass.
The
final months of high school are only good for three things. One, seeing how
much you can slack off, primarily to anger teachers who can do absolutely
nothing about it. Second, doing the dumbest things possible to piss off the
administration and “leave your mark” in your school’s history. And finally,
finding a roommate for college.
Finding
a roommate has always been something that has intrigued me. When I got into
college, I immediately started meeting all these different people from all over
the country. I joined those Facebook groups where everyone says the same damn
thing all damn day. Every so
often, that really weird kid looking to do it big in college, posts something
so inappropriate that he might as well just kill himself before he even leaves
for college, cause he’s already committed social suicide.
For
weeks I had been attempting to find someone suitable for my “needs.” I went to
Jewish Summer Camp for most of my youth, so I know how to live with pretty much
anyone and anything. I’ve lived with the fat kid who wakes you up at 2 o’clock
in the morning to the sound of chips draining down his stomach. I’ve lived with
the kid who doesn’t say anything, doesn’t eat anything, doesn’t do anything,
and literally doesn’t even go to the bathroom. I’ve lived with the ladies man
(I learned a lot that summer). I’ve lived with the douchebag kid who thinks
he’s better than you at everything. And I’ve even lived with a kid that doesn’t
speak English (it’s truly amazing how much you learn when your only
communication is via your hands, face, and occasionally your feet).
After
living with all these different people over the years at Jew Camp, I’ve come to
the realization that it’s not my roommate’s issues that should be addressed,
it’s my problems that need to be brought to the table. Living in my own room
for last ten years has really spoiled me, and pretty much made me think that
all of my personal tendencies are normal, and that’s the last thing from true.
So I
guess this is the part where I pretty much read off to you all the things my
roommate is going to have to suffer with, or I’m going to have to make
ridiculous attempts to change.
Okay,
well first off, if I haven’t already mentioned this a million times, I’m
Jewish, and therefore my nose has unfixable issues that bother everyone except
myself. I have a deviated septum, which is something I’m assuming most of you
haven’t heard of, because it doesn’t exist. It’s just a term Jews made it up to
compensate for their disturbingly messed up noses. An ears, nose, and throat
doctor is a relatively new medical field that was only created to satisfy Jews
who argued that they weren’t getting proper care from family doctors. Those
family doctors were telling them the same thing I’m telling you, a deviated
septum is a non-existent medical condition that just makes Jewish people feel
special. The whole point of this long explanation into Jewish history is to
make the point that I snore, and very loudly so my brother tells me. Apparently
when I’m on my A game, I can snore in tune with the Dr. Dre song, Nuthin But a G Thang. That’s pretty dope
if you ask me.
Now to
address other issues of mine. When I was young, I was struggling to find good
study methods. One day when I was in the 7th grade, I couldn’t study
for my math test. I thought to myself, maybe I’ll be able to focus more if I
take off my shirt and hang free. I got a 100% on that test. For the rest of
middle school, whenever I did my homework or studied, I was naked. I know
that’s not the best environment for a fellow roommate, so no need to worry
about me running around the dorm naked, but the chances of you walking into the
room and seeing me without my shirt on in study mode is pretty high. And come
finals week, well, things could get a little crazy. But I’ll always be
respectful to your space and never cross into your threshold.
I’m a
big music guy, especially rap music. My cousin introduced me to this concept of
walking into your room with music already playing, genius idea (he was also the
guy who introduced me to porn, but I won’t go any farther with that subject).
Ever since than, whenever I leave my room, I pick a song that I know will fit
my mood as soon as I walk in the door. Don’t worry dude, we can collaborate on
song choices, just as long as it isn’t Justin Beiber or any song that has Niki
Minaj in it for more than two minutes, she freaks me out after two minutes.
I think
this might be a good time to tell you that I have a shoe fetish. Not sexually,
but I love shoes. To me, shoes are a sex symbol. If I had to choose between
hooking up with a really hot girl, or getting a fresh pair of kicks, I would
really have to consider how hot this girl is. It’s probably not a good thing to
admit that I would choose shoes over sex, but when in Rome...so I will devise a
full proof plan to make sure that my shoes have an escape route, in case there
is ever a fire in the dorm.
I love
gum. Well, I love to chew on things, and the only way to keep me away from the
super size bags of Cool Ranch Doritos, is Extra
Spearmint gum. Everyone at my high school knew that I carried a full pack
on me everyday, but whenever they asked, I told them the piece in my mouth was
the last piece in the pack. But now that I’m heading off to college, I can’t be
an asshole like that anymore, so my gum is your gum. But let it be said now
that the gum on my desk, is my gum only. This is a very sensitive subject for
me, because when my gum is gone, I resort to death.
I’m
just going to be blunt on this one, I have tiny bladder. I’m not really sure
where this problem originated, but if we go to the movies, I give you
permission to slap me in the face if I order a large Diet Coke, heavy no ice,
because I will pay the consequences later. So if you hear the door crack at 2
o’clock in the morning it’s probably because I drank a little too much, and I’m
suffering from an overload in the tank. I promise I’m quick and quiet.
So at
this point, whoever my roommate is, if you’re reading this, you’re probably
trying every possible way to switch out of the room and have someone else
suffer the pain of living with me. Sadly, this is about where my troubles end
(I know right, I was just beginning to think there was no cure for all your
problems).
Believe
it or not, I’d like to think even amidst my many issues, I’m actually quite
easy to live with. I’m cool with whatever you believe in, as long as you’re not
racist or a Michigan fan. I don’t care if you like to stay up late, or go to
bed early. I will always have complete respect for your belongings and personal
feelings. I’ll even attempt to help you out with the ladies, if you really
think I can help you. But just as a fair warning, my little brother comes to me
for women advice quite often, and every time I give him advice, he always comes
back with a bruise on his neck. It’s not the kind of bruise we guys want if you
know what I mean. J
As I am
getting closer and closer to actually beginning college, actually moving away
from my home, and actually living with a roommate, I’m beginning to understand
what it means to “grow-up.” Your parents tell you all the time, “this is what
it’s like to be a grown-up”, or, “one day you’ll have to grow-up and when you
do, you’ll realize that this isn’t as easy it looks.”
Growing-up
sucks, not gonna lie. I like doing things my own way. Don’t get me wrong, I
love walking into a room where clothes are on the floor, and everything’s
exactly the way I want it to be. But part of growing up is learning to give up
your wants for other people’s wants. Ya, it’s gonna be really hard to not study
for my math final naked, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make to be a
bro, and make my roommate feel like he’s at home too.
For
those of you reading this that are in the same position I’m in, I’m not going
to pretend like I know everything and say things are going to work out, cause
they may not. But I’ll be as real with you as I can, I always here stories
about how people came to college with a closed mind and didn’t open up to a
different living style, and because of that were never willing to give their
roommate a chance. Yes, I’m sure the first few weeks are going to be tough for
everyone. It’s not going to be easy living in a room that’s half the size of
yours now, and has twice as many people in it. But do yourself a favor; give
you and your roommate(s) a chance. There have been many times in my life where
I have felt uncomfortable in a new situation, but every time I have told myself
to let go of the crap that’s in my head, things have always turned out for the
best.
I would
be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous to start a new life with someone I’ve never
met before. But to be completely honest, I’m just as excited to start this new
life because I know that I will learn more about myself, my life, and my future
by walking the path less ridden. Sometimes, we just have to sit back, relax,
and strap on our seatbelts, cause the rides gonna take us somewhere we never
imagined. Good luck my friends.
Yours Truly,
Chip I.T.
“We do
these things not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”
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