Lock your rooms, girls

If a friend called you crying to say that someone had gotten into her college room and gone through all of her belongings, you would think the economy is in bad shape. At least, this thought came to my mind when I heard the news.

Yesterday I learned that someone had entered my classmate's room on the first floor of our dormitory in search of valuable items. The burglar had gone through all her suitcases scattering jewelry, family pictures and underwear all over the floor. After a brief discussion with the college's public safety officer, we decided that the violator must have been an outsider. At this time of the year students prop the dorm's doors open to move in and out of school. That must have given the robber a perfect opportunity to sneak in and look for valuables.

Today I found out another friend's belongings violated. This classmate had left her sealed and labeled cardboard box in front of the student storage area where international students are allowed to store during the summer. Two days after she had placed the box there someone had decided to help themselves to her clothing and computer monitor.

These incidents, together with the many student emails announcing thefts, scare me. Stealing has definitely been on the rise on campus and the most obvious reason for it seems to be the economic downfall. Right?

Best things in life are free

I had spent the whole day helping people to pack, carry suitcases and move out their dorms. It hasn't been my first time doing it and, I hope, it won't be my last time. After all, this is what friends are for--to sit on suitcases while you zip them and to push cardboard boxes down the stairs while you catch them from underneath.

Late in the afternoon a graduating friend needed my assistance moving out. Only she didn't put it this way. She wanted me to help her track down a pair of brand-name boots she had lent someone. The boots were worn only three times, forgotten in the room and probably thrown away by the cleaning staff. She went berserk when she didn't find them. We looked through about seven trash bags full of rubbish and liquid wastes. The expensive boots were nowhere to be found.

Then, she decided, it would be funny but plausible to find the boots in the basement of some other dorm. So, she dragged me from dorm to dorm in search of the pair of boots while picking up other abandoned items there. Soon she acquired a fancy scarf, Armani Code perfume and a pair of black shoes. I went home to take a shower and wash away the dirt from the trash dive.

Less than two hours after we had parted, she asked me for help again. Only she didn't put it this way. She offered to meet me in one of the dorms because it had lots of new and expensive things. There was this brand new CD player that I needed to check out. Oh, and also, she was almost done packing and ready to move out. Although I was not interested in the CD player, I was still interested in helping her move out. So, I went, sat on her suitcase while she was zipping it, and carried her bags across the college campus.

A couple of minutes ago she thanked me for all I had done and offered me a bag of scarves. "I really don't need any of this," I responded and my heart sank as I realized she really didn't get it. I needed no objects to be her friend.

Keep the conversation going

If you had entered my 300-level sociology seminar two days ago, you would have seen a 86-year-old African American student talking about jazz. Good Dues Blues and Shoo Shoo Baby playing in the background, Luora was presenting her final research project on jazz music in front of the class and the professor.

Studying with diverse individuals has proved to be a highly valuable experience for me. And when I say diverse, I refer not only to the students' race, ethnicity, religion or political affiliation. I also refer to their age.

Mount Holyoke College runs a program (Frances Perkins program) for women of non-traditional age. Every woman over the age of 24 can earn an undergraduate degree on a full or part-time course schedule. Each year approximately 140 diverse and intellectually curious women enroll at Mount Holyoke as Frances Perkins scholars (FPs). And I was lucky enough to have Luora, the oldest African American FP student, in my sociology class Black Cultural Production and Consumption.

"Let me tell you mine experience," Luora started answering a classmate's question about the given jazz presentation. Everyone in the classroom beamed and listened attentively. We love her stories. We love it when she makes the abstract theories about, for example, black authentic identity, real for us.

Born in 1923, Luora is not only an active participant in our class discussions but also a carrier of her generation's worldview. In the classroom, she enables a discourse between at least three generations--her Civil Rights generation, our professor's Generation X and the students' Generation Y.

"Jazz is a conversation," she said in conclusion to her presentation. "It continues a tradition of communication." Undoubtedly, having her and other FP students in my academic program also continues a tradition of communication.

The Movie Night

Choosing a movie is never an easy task. One needs to consider so many factors: mood, weather condition, company preferences, food supplies and, of course, the activities before and after the film watching. It is almost impossible to choose the right movie at the right moment--especially with me.

Me and my friend, Crystal, like to watch movies in her pink, tidy and smelling-of-clean-linen room. We have a movie date at least once a month and we both anticipate the evening when we will sit on the soft round carpet on the floor in front of the TV and relax. The anticipation, however, is often sweeter than the film watching itself.



"Why? What happened now," Crystal would ask ten minutes into the movie.
"Sh-sh. Watch," I would respond with eyes focused on the screen.
Then, I really get into the movie and try to resolve the strange plot. Although not fully convinced, Crystal usually agrees with me in my resolution suggestions.
"Louis will now find the lighter in her handbag and realize what had happened," I exulted last night when we watched the French movie, "Apres Vous."
"Ohhh," responded Crystal in a contemplative manner. She was still having doubts about the plot development and considering other possible options.

But when I really, really get into the movie and become extremely amazed at the unexpected turn in the story line, I spontaneously reach for Crystal. And see that she has already fallen asleep.

More often than not, we will finish watching the movie with the same conclusion:
"This movie was weird."
"Yeah, right."

When Classes End

Last night after work, I went to the Campus Center to have dinner with a friend. The weather was slightly chilly and very refreshing. We grabbed food, sat on a table outside and enjoyed the sight.


It was the last day of classes and students, mostly seniors, were dancing to the upbeat tunes coming out of the stereo system operated by two DJs. Everyone was singing loudly, congratulating one another and filling the night with laughter. You were welcome to approach anyone and hug her as a spontaneous expression of happiness. You could even buy a medium-sized transparent cup of beer, if you had 21.

It felt so much like home—the open-air dancing to "Around the World" by Daft Punk, the beer drinking and the sudden inexplicable excitement that seized us. This was just a quick demo for the endless summer nights ahead of us.

Roommate Affairs

I have been sharing my small college room with someone else for two years. We have been studying different subjects, believing in different religions and going to bed at different times. It has been wonderful.
Last year I was a confused freshman who had just arrived at "the US oldest higher education institution for women" for the international students' orientation. Overwhelmed by the amount of new information I had to absorb, I closed the door of my half-empty room, pulled down the white plastic window shades, and went to bed. A loud knock on the door woke me up on the next morning, and I met Danielle - a French-Canadian horseback-rider with bubbling interest in politics and mellow blue eyes. Danielle also turned out to be one of the most absent-minded, intelligent, funnest and messiest people I have ever met.

Danielle quickly filled every empty space of our room with decorative pillows, elephant necklaces, posters of Bob Marley, and books about urban legends and ghosts. My rooming experience with her exceeded my highest expectations. At the end of the year I had to collect from the room everything that Danielle forgot, decided to leave behind, or asked me to keep in summer storage including her gray fridge, full-size mirror, CDs, and jewelry. Danielle and I missed the deadline for forming a moving group to room together for the next academic year, so we left room 314 with nostalgia and headed towards a new dormitory.
Luckily, now we live in the same building but on different floors. Danielle has a sweet spacious apartment which she shares with a Republican rugby player. I got a small converted double on the third floor which I later ended up sharing with our mutual friend, May.
May doesn't only have a spring-like name. She carries a pretty spring-like spirit that makes her cuddle, act goofy and ask many questions. If you enter our room at any point you will probably adopt a look of confusion because of the mixed odors in this small space. The smell of powerful Tiger balm, green tea, natural hair products and all kinds of herbs are very common here because May loves Chinese medicine. It is yet to be seen what I will find in the room when the academic year is over. Somehow, I am not worried.