College Chronicles: Dorm Tales 1

Regardless of the possibility of getting into 5th year (which for UA&P students means a year of grad school, the completion of which provides us with a Masters Degree), March 2006 shall officially be my last month as a college student. I have thus decided to begin a series of blog entries that shall recount this particular chapter of my life. I do not intend to write down all the important events of the past four years, because I don’t believe in translating all my important memories into words. Doing so would cage the memories to ink and paper, and I like them uninhibited, able to float around in the pool of my imagination, changing moods and meanings every so often as my mind pleases. As such, I shall only be writing about those memories that are not too precious to merit such freedom, but are worthy enough to be shared with others.

And to all the people whom I have crossed paths with, in one way or another, during the last four years, it was nice running into you, I guess. What separates life from mere existence are the little details that go into it – the random hi’s and sudden goodbyes, the little laughs and long conversations, even the occasional middle finger. So thanks, for whatever memory I have of you.

[Geez, I hope I don’t jinx my academic career with this early acknowledgement of graduation. Next thing I know I’ve failed a subject and have become destined to be delayed for another year.]

Dorm Tales, Episode 1.
I’ve never met my next-door neighbor. I don’t know his name, I don’t know where he’s from, I don’t know why he chose to stay at our dorm. I do know that he goes to my school, that he’s a few years younger than me, that his name starts with a J, and that he’s awfully quiet, but that’s about it. I reckon he knows more about me than I do him – the walls in our dorm are rather thin and alas, I’m not as quiet as he. I even have some guesses as to what he thinks he knows about me:

(1) That I watch reruns of Friends everyday because I have no real ones;
(2) That should he hear from the news that a crazy stalker has kidnapped Jason Mraz, he’d have to inform the police about my whereabouts;
(3) That I do a lot of laughing on my own, which creeps him out;
(4) That I never sleep, because there is always a sign of activity from my side of the wall, from fingers tapping on the keyboard to the sound of taped laughter from a sitcom playing on the TV to the signature creepy laughter;
(5) That there are actually three people living in my dorm: a writer who types on the computer incessantly, a bum who watches TV all night, and a crazy girl who constantly finds humor in their unfunny living situation.

It’s not to say that I haven’t had the opportunity to meet the guy. Only two weeks ago I went up to the IMC Office, the mother ship of all IMC students, to find it overflowing with anxious sophomores hoping to be accepted into the course. They were there for their individual interviews, which were most likely going to determine whether they get accepted or not. Next-door Neighbor was one of the many obviously tense aspirants, and as he saw me come in, I think I saw him flash a nervous smile at me, as if to show his relief at the sight of not only a familiar face but also one that had gone through and survived the ordeal he was yet to undertake. Unfortunately I was at the time preoccupied with an Ethics paper we were about to submit, and was unable to at least smile back or mouth a “good luck” at the poor boy.

Days after the incident I sincerely began to regret my failure to reciprocate his friendly gesture. To think that I could’ve provided him with some decent advice about what he was going through. Now I don’t think I’m ever going to meet the guy. We’ve lived beside each other too long and have conveniently gone on doing so without knowing each other that it’s probably a little too late, and too awkward, for introductions.

But as I’m a firm believer in second chances, here’s an attempt to redeem myself from previously being incapable of taking the opportunity to meet my Next-door Neighbor. Since this blog is open to be viewed by the public, there is a chance, however slim, that my next-door neighbor will chance upon and read this. That said, I think that the following can then be considered a valid attempt at getting to know the guy. So here goes.

Hello there! This attempt at a conversation has been long overdue, but better late than never, right? My name is Daene. What’s yours? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry for the many times I’ve disturbed you with the many loud noises I make. You’d be glad to know I’ll be out of the dorm by end of this school year. By the way, how did your IMC interview go? Hope you got accepted. Take care, okay?


Dear reader, do you find me weird yet? Imagine if only a thin wall separated you from me. Hmm. I really must apologize to my neighbor then. I reckon he doesn’t appreciate my inborn peculiarities.