Hustle for housing leaves some in the cold

Almost everybody on campus is undoubtedly well-aware of the recent housing lottery and its ramifications. The annual scramble for a place of on-campus residence is strikingly similar to the trajectory of this crazy game we call life; some make out like bandits, some make do with whatever they can scrounge and some make impossibly stiff drinks with which to mercilessly drown their otherwise unbearable agony and misfortune.

There is no discernible mechanism of reason or sense to any of it and we usually end up alone and crying with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a 9 mm in the other.

To make a sharp U-turn out of that rather dark alley I’ve steered us into, I think I’ll relate a personal anecdote regarding the trials and tribulations of the KSC housing selection process. You see, I’m not much for contests of luck. I don’t win raffles, I could never grab the teddy bear with that damn little claw as a kid (and now I’m riddled with every manner of inferiority complex); you name the venue and I’ll invariably find myself on the short end of the stick.

So it was with little surprise and much chagrin I was consigned to the 300s last year. Naturally, I was waitlisted and kept on tenterhooks all summer long. Towards the onset of August, as I began to wonder if I should maybe start scouting out apartments, I received a call informing me that I would most likely be shuffled into Monadnock.

Now, nothing against that particular dorm and its lovely residents, but I was immensely relieved after being told a week or so later I’d actually been placed in Pondside I, bringing my emotional rollercoaster ride to a close.

My question, then: is the promise of on-campus housing truly worth all this hysteria and drama it so often entails? When is enough truly enough? Why don’t my children have any hats (Mike Sloan represent)? The pros and cons of off-campus housing as an alternative deserve to be considered.

Firstly, it is in most cases more immediately expensive, but that temporary expense carries the perk of staving off the frequently-crippling debt associated with financial aid. This leads to greater eventual quality of life and less in the way of the 9 mm and vodka. It is also presumably more spacious than most any dorm room, enabling one to frolic about with greater ease if one wishes to do so (I definitely feel the pain of being unable to frolic to my heart’s content within the confines of Rm. 220). And naturally, the absence of an RA cultivates an atmosphere of independence and personal freedom.

On-campus residence is not without its own perks, however. It’s liberating in itself not having to worry about paying for heating, electricity et al., curbing much of the stress that comes from living on one’s own. What dorm life lacks in frolicking space it makes up for in frolicking time. The RA should also not be slighted; he or she can be a positive regulating force to prevent matters from getting too out of hand. What constitutes “Tipsy Tuesday” for some might infringe on the study time of others. And most prominently, on-campus housing has the considerable advantage of proximity to classes, a major boon for the terminally lazy (among whose ranks I proudly count myself).

In all honesty, though, my best advice is to not be too picky. If you see a viable housing opportunity, pounce on that sucker. Hell, give me a cardboard box and I’ll feng shui that shit like nobody’s business.
It’s all a matter of perspective.

Justin Levesque can be contacted at jlevesque@ksc.mailcruiser.com.