Freshman

There are a few events that occur in life that, as they happen, you may become acutely self-aware to idea that “this will probably never happen again”. Obviously, as we grow and times and situations change, certain backdrops to life become book-ended chapters that can be looked back upon, but rarely relived. For example, after the age of 18, the concept of “high school” and the life that goes along with it, becomes a page in a closed chapter. And while I can sit with my friends and recall the good times we had at play rehearsals, or remember exactly what it felt like to sit in class and learn geometry, I can never ACTUALLY go back and relive it. Similarly, college is another rare opportunity in life, perhaps more significant than high school that it becomes the backdrop for truly entering adulthood, coming into one’s own as a person and learning everything there is to know about sex, drugs, drinking and Easy Mac- those last golden years before the intense pressure of the real world takes hold and “Boozeday Tuesday” is a relevant part of the lexicon.

Yesterday, at about 2:00 in the afternoon, I trudged from Walsh Library to Alumni Court North in the cold fall rain. I made a brief stop in the deli under Queens Court to grab a drink, made my way across the court into the functional looking freshman dorm, climbed the stairs to the second floor, entered the room, threw my bags down and heated up some Easy Mac in the contraband microwave under the bed. Lounging on the floor, enjoying my soggy mac and cheese concoction, I flipped on some meaningless reality show on MTV and pondered the fact that I had no full time job to speak of. No real responsibility. All I really had to worry about was eating my Easy Mac, and nothing more. It was a good afternoon to be in this little shoebox dorm room, with not a care in the world, and someone quite obviously smoking pot in the bathroom across the hall.

If you had told me seven years ago, when I actually LIVED that life, in that same building, one floor above that seven years later, at age 25 I’d inexplicably be doing it again on this cold, raw afternoon, I never would have believed it. Impossible. How? Well, first, I guess it should be noted that my brother is now a freshman at Fordham, living in the same dorm I lived in seven years ago. I made the trip up to the campus to hitch a ride home with my dad, who was picking Tom up so we could all go home to have dinner for dad’s birthday. Ironically, it was also the last day of my life a full-time, city-commuting worker.

I got a new job, I swear. But it doesn’t start until January, so I’m left in this sort of freelance purgatory from now until then, living off my freelance money, DJ money and whatever other checks I can scrounge up from some of my other money-making ventures. It makes me feel guilty on one hand, while the rest of the world wakes up early to go to work, I stay home and go to the gym. On the other hand, I know that I’m focused in my long term goals, and if I have to spend some time at home in the interim, then so be it.

Either way, when looking forward, it’s always nice to be able to look back and relive those rare moments once in a while.