Hello, my name is ...
It's 2:00 a.m. and I'm a bit boozy.
Tonight was the last official party of Frosh Week here at Trinity College at the University of Toronto. It was a toga party. It was held in the college's courtyard, which for this occasion was illuminated by bright neon blue lights.
People seemed more at ease tonight, dressed in their bed sheets, than they did earlier in the week. At the lunch on Monday, the first day of Frosh Week, half of the first-years quietly gathered around the food tables and picked at bagel slices instead of speaking to each other. Tonight, people enjoyed themselves. Sitting now in my dorm room I can still hear a quiet murmur of voices in the rooms adjacent to my own.
For most everyone, I believe, this has been an odd week, part of a transition that likely began a year ago in the final year of high school. It's the sometimes difficult transition into the blessed and wisdom-filled world of adulthood. It's a transition commonly marked by 18th birthdays, 19th birthdays, driver's licences, apartments and taxes and, of course, university.
I'm older than most everyone in my year; I took a year off after high school, so I'm pretty advanced into adulthood. However even I, with my cool swagger of maturity, felt a little displaced after being picked up from my home of 18 years in Calgary and dropped in a city whose name I'm struggling to pronounce (is it Toe-ron-toe or Te-ron-toe or TRON-toe?). For most of this week I've felt like I did tonight under the blue lights and music: confused, overstimulated and overwhelmed. And very young.
This was to be expected, though. I read about stuff like this in a book on coping with transition that floated around my house this summer. The first stages of transition are always a bit shocking but gradually strategies are developed and then what was once uncomfortably new becomes normal.
I chose this school after originally applying to five other universities. I chose to come to this school and this city because they allow me to pursue my interests in theatre and international relations. Now it's time for me to adjust to the environment I chose, relax and document my experiences over the coming year for the benefit of the reading public.
My name is Ian and I'm a tall, slim young man filled with pep and vim and I'll be offering you a close and personal perspective on life in freshman year at a large urban university.
Admittedly, I'll be doing this after I finish unpacking my two-cubic-feet moving boxes and figure out just exactly where I am and what I am doing.
Oh, I also have to get used to the toilet seat always being up when I go to the washroom here. I keep forgetting and to near disastrous consequences. Especially since the flusher doesn't really work that great so stuff stays, well ... That can be an entry for another day.
BRYCE WARNES
Comments
ahh reminds me of my trinity days... Seriously, don't ever touch the sundial.
Thoroughly enjoyed your posts. Gave me a good laugh. Always thought I'd love to go to university, but think I'm too much of a procrastinator. Now I'm too old. Almost. Athabasca looks good. If you'd like a home-cooked meal in Markham some weekend, contact us. Last time we were in Calgary, at least, on our way out, Elvis died, so we had Elvis songs all the way back to Tor-on-to. (I've been known to pronounce it all the ways you've mentioned, depending on the audience.) My moniker comes from the Apostle Paul's 2nd letter to Timothy (3:7), "Ever learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.", though I hope that's not true of me.
To fomertrin: the sundial is gone now that they've "redone" the quad.
.. yes and this sundial ritual was retarded anyway
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