My Sophomore Ego Explained

As a sophomore, I have developed the biggest superiority complex. Every time I see a freshman, I can’t help but think, “Oh, poor thing!” while simultaneously wanting to become their friend and mentor. It isn’t because I think I’m inherently better than the freshmen; I just know that I live much better than they do. I’ve come a long way from the worn-out halls of Houston (which I admittedly loved), and now that I find myself living in Wren, I can actually fully comprehend how much nicer my new Suite Life™ is than the low standards of Dorm Life™.

Living near the lobby in Houston Hall last year, I considered myself lucky if, at 2 a.m., a group of drunk students didn’t wander through the halls making tons of noise or, god forbid, as happened one night, play guitar and sing until 4 a.m. Yes, that actually happened. I lost a lot of sleep my first year. My fellow freshmen and I thought it was a normal enough thing with which we’d just have to deal with. When our window inexplicably broke three times over the course of the year, that also seemed normal enough. That time my roommate and I found ants in our room? We figured it would be better next year, when we were no longer on the first floor, but we didn’t complain. As a freshman, I dealt with a lot that I wouldn’t deal with now, only a few weeks into the new year. Yeah, sure, I loved my freshman dorm for the incredible bonding experience it provided, but now that I’ve made close friends, I’d rather bond over the fact that our showers now have good water pressure. I don’t have a superiority complex because I am better; I have a superiority complex because I know better.

From the safety of my common room, I can’t hear the Saturday late-night drinkers stumbling back to their rooms. I don’t have a bathroom that resembles Saw. My room isn’t above the boiler room (this was a miserable fact of my life that made my freshman dorm excessively hot every hour of every day). Sometimes, I vaguely miss Daniel, the friendly boiler room ghost that would occasionally make me or my roommate misplace things, but I’ve moved on, and I hope Daniel has too. But to be perfectly honest: at least I was not and am not living in Bush.

Despite the occasional stranger walking awkwardly past while my suite-mates and I watch The Incredibles with way too much popcorn, my standards of college living have increased significantly. The bar is no longer at my knee. And that is the point of this weekly blog: to subtly brag about Suite Life™ while also offering up some of the funny anecdotes that it provides. To all the freshman out there: it gets way better, and bonding over crappy dorm rooms is one of the best parts of making friends in college. The homesickness will pass, and your possibly soon-to-be ant-ridden room will become a new home that you will look upon fondly.

(And if the ants get to be too much, pouring talcum powder along the walls should keep them out for good.)

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