I’m sitting alone in my single room, in my sophomore year of college. My walls are white, save the few posters I have created myself and hung in strategic places to cover up some of the depressing blankness. The black curtain that hangs in front of my closet is open, revealing various items such as sneakers tossed aside with disregard, different articles of clothing hung with care, some hair products and a Paul Revere-esque lamp, in case the power goes out (which if you go to Monmouth, you know happens at LEAST once a year). I hear the sounds of heels clacking past my door and down the hallway, muffled voices of residents returning from or making a pitstop during their night out, and the soft whir of my refrigerator keeping my water and Ssips Iced Tea boxes chilled.
I remember moving into this room. I turned the key to unlock the door, and looked around. I lived in this building as a Freshman, so I knew the Resident Assistant rooms were small, and I didn’t have a problem with it, nor was I surprised when I saw mine for the first time. The day was Friday, August 28, 2009, outside it was dreary but I was excited. Exactly five months and two days have gone by since I moved in, and in place of the empty spaces and blank walls, I have added touches of my own style and comforts of home, as well as notes to myself to stay motivated, pictures of loved ones and enough seating for a small army.
There are days when the solitude that comes with the territory of being an RA is lovely. I don’t have to consult anyone if I want to rearrange my room, I know everything in the fridge is mine, I can use it as an escape if I am having a bad day, or I can hang out with friends at my own discretion. Other days however, it is overwhelmingly sad. There are some days, when literally no one is around, and those days are the hardest. It seems as if the days I need human interaction the most, are the days I get it the least. Being an RA is especially tough when the majority of your friends are not. They can go out at their leisure and not worry about losing their job if they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I don’t mean to complain, as I love my job.
One of the great things about being an RA is creating and maintaining good relationships with your residents. You don’t have to be best friends (in fact it is somewhat frowned upon) but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t randomly pop in to talk to them. This year I have gotten to meet some of the funniest, sweetest kids who are in the same position I was last year, in the very same building.
I’m sitting alone in my single room, in my sophomore year of college. My walls are covered in memories, the black curtain that hangs in front of my closet is open revealing the things I put away myself, and the only sounds I hear are the tap tap tapping of my fingers on my keyboard. It is the second to last day in January and I’m daydreaming ahead to the middle of May when I am expected to pack up my belongings and head home for the summer. I can’t imagine that day, but like a train headed for the station, it’s quickly approaching and nothing I can do will slow it down.
As always, my name is RJ, and I think it would be worth your while to stop by this blog: http://teawithashley.wordpress.com/