And so it begins . . .

I moved into my dorm at Albion College today. I met my roommate. I went through all the steps. I'm sitting at my desk writing this, in fact. And yet, am I really here? How can I be in Michigan? How can this whole college experience really be happening? These questions floated around in my head as I showered in the small (but mostly private) bathroom I share with my roommate and the dorm next door. How is this real?

My day, my first day of 'real' college, began early this morning. My parents moved me mostly in around 9. I was shooting for earlier so that we would be able to run the last errand to top-off the list of supplies I needed, but there was a small mix up and the person who was supposed to be at my dorm to give me my student ID and check me in wasn't around. It took meeting a couple of my building-mates and a call to Residential Life to straighten things out. But we managed and soon I was dumping boxes onto the wood-framed bed of a reasonably sized dorm room. The room looked, well, empty, but not in a neglected or lonesome way. Instead, it presented itself as a blank slate for my roommate and me to mold. And mold we did. It took a bit of heavy lifting (but what else are dad's and boyfriends for?) and a lot of failed attempts, but now our dorm room is organized in just the right way. There is plenty of space in the middle for the air to circulate through (very important because it can be stifling in here) and we both managed to fit everything we needed.

Then it was time to say good-bye. In all honesty, I was dreading this moment. The moment when the mom burst into tears and said "we'll miss you!" When dad's mostly predictable nature traversed a place neither of us had experienced. I was expecting tears and long, drawn-out, awkward good-byes. I was happily mistaken. I walked them down to the car (the elevator ride down gave me enough time to shake off the annoyance at my father's demand that I walk them to the car—what did he think I was going to do? Get dropped off and never leave my dorm again?). Behind the small, but surprisingly roomy new Honda Fit my parents purchased a week and a half ago at least partly for the long haul down to southern Michigan, my father grabs me in a short, but tight hug. My mom gives me a less manly version of the same good-bye, and that was it. That was the extent of the good-byes. I turned around, shedding the dread, and walked without a moment's hesitation, without a glance back, to my dorm room where I began to unpack. Slowly, the empty room became home.

Today was move-in day, but it was also introductions day, welcome ceremony day, and 'don't be stupid or this will happen' day. Since eight this morning, I've been going going. Jumping from meeting to ceremony, back to the room to unpack more to another meeting, and finally to a comedian's warning about drinking responsibly and keeping away from drugs. He was good. He was funny and I can see why the campus chose him to do the talk. His name is Randi Haverson (or something like that). He started Randi Speaks, where he goes from college to college giving the same drug/alcohol speech to first-year students. He also started Hero House (I think it's called) a step between rehabilitation and returning to college for those who have suffered from drug and alcohol addictions. His basic message was that we now have the power to make very big choices for ourselves, and we have to consider the consequences more now than ever before. It was a good message, and it seemed to get the attention of a lot of the freshmen.

Which reminds me, this college is full of freshmen. It makes me feel old, especially when the eighteen-year-old boys come over and start hitting on me. It makes me very happy that my status as a transfer student was discovered and I was switched to an upperclassmen dorm.

My first day here ended on a wonderful note. There were two guys in the student center playing pianos. They called them dueling pianos, but there really wasn't much competition, just about which player's side of the room was louder, smarter, more attractive. When I heard about it, I was picturing the piano equivalent of a rap battle, which it certainly wasn't. It was still a lot of fun. I was really glad I went. I got to hang out with people my age, found out that I fit in with the arty crowd much more than the sorority/fraternity crowd (no surprise there), and heard a lot of really fun music ranging every where from classic rock to Disney (I Can Show You the World, Hakunna Matata) to T.V. (The Fresh Prince of Ballare theme and Sponge Bob) to the tiger song from The Hangover. I'm really glad I ignored the comments of "lame" that were floating around when the night's entertainment was announced. My day ended (well besides this) with the piano players doing "American Pie." I couldn't think of a better way to complete day one.

This whole college, living away from home in a dorm with a stranger, being surrounded by campus life 24/7 still hasn't sunk in yet. I'm still wondering if this is real, half expecting to wake up and find myself in my bed at home dreaming all this up (I wouldn't have to buy toilet paper and there would be salt on the popcorn if this were a dream, though), but I'm not having any doubts. More I'm waiting. Watching. Experiencing. In a way, I feel like for the first time in a long time, I'm living—completely, purely, simply living. And I can't really say that's a bad place to be in.