It is time again for the housing draw. This year, the housing system has undergone more reconstruction than Michael Jackson’s face. The pick size has been cut down to four from eight. Now, as a freshman, I am angered. I have had the luxury of picking in with eight people in all my other years at Williams. I should be entitled to pick in with seven others yet again. Freshmen should be more upset than anyone else about this situation. This whole housing thing has gotten me so mad I was actually thinking of transferring to the other prominent college in Massachusetts, Harvard. Or maybe I should transfer to Middlebury, where I can live in those poorly insulated motor homes. Let me get out my applications.
Well at least we can take some solace in the fact that there will not be blind pick-ins. Can you imagine not knowing who your neighbor will be? It will be just like freshman year, where you had no control over who your neighbors were.
The whole situation seems to be a bigger mess than Enron. Students are protesting to keep the old housing system while the administration is pushing back harder for change. It seems like we are fighting a huge war. Maybe Bono can help bring peace to the situation. Bono can make us all see that it is a beautiful day. He can show us that this housing situation can be the sweetest thing. However, it seems to be all we cannot leave behind. People must realize that the College is going to make these changes with or without you.
Seriously though, has the situation gotten out of hand? This whole thing seems like a bigger production than Liza’s wedding. With all that is going on in the world we are just worried about housing. Especially now, when we should be thinking about whether or not Britney and Justin’s break-up is permanent. And what are my chances with Britney? Once the restraining order is lifted I think I stand a good shot!
Maybe, now that we see there is no change in the new room draw proposals, at least until next year or until Bono intervenes, we should worry about this year. So there is a lottery, which makes me nervous. At first I thought it was like that story “The Lottery” and I was really worried that if I got the first pick I would be killed. However, I am told that this is not how this lottery works. I am told that they gather all the confiscated Beirut ping-pong balls and put numbers on them and then see which ones pop up. Then people pick in to each dorm. So let’s examine the dorms.
As sophomores we have several choices of places to live: Mission, Mission, Armstrong and Mission. Oh wait, sorry Armstrong is in Mission. No, really, I love Mission: those shades of gray remind me to go take a Prozac. Mission makes “Platoon” seem like a feel-good movie. The rooms with all those weird angles bring back bad repressed memories from my 9th grade geometry class. I am afraid I am going to be attacked by a rhombus.
Then there is the question of whom to pick in with. A girl asked me to pick in with her, but I said was not ready for that kind of commitment. Plus, sharing a bathroom with girls? Make-up, hairdryers, curlers, and lady razors would be all over the place!
Things just seemed to be so much easier when I was living at home with my parents. I had my own room and my own bathroom and never had to worry about changing rooms every year. I guess the sacrifice for getting away from your parents for four years is having to put up with dorm life and housing. Now that I think about it, it seems like a fair trade. Actually, considering my parents, I think the trade was lopsided in favor of the housing situation. Just joking, I love my parents. (Please do not rent my room out to NYU students this summer; the trade thing was a joke!)
Right now, I am still in Sage and will be for the next month and a half. (Ladies, now you know where I live and how much time you have left!) I should just enjoy where I am living now and when my number is called in the big lottery, I will be ready to pick in somewhere new and surround myself with different people. People should be more scared that I would pick in next to them! Now that is a thought scarier than the dress Gwynth Paltrow wore to the Oscars. At least wherever I live next year I am sure I will still be able to churn out the same inane babble that I do now. Happy House Hunting!