The following May, I was kicked out of the dorms (like everyone else) the day after Finals. All my stuff had moved the weekend before, but I had a LARP that night and ended up crashing on dirkcjelli and thirsdon's couch. Living in Daniels was nice. I could go to the Wedge and play games and talk shop and politics and philosophy and religion in my pajamas, and go to the cafeteria without leaving the warmth of the dorm. Showers were public but plentiful, and living on a coed floor meant there was enough estrogen in the atmosphere to keep the men sane. I didn't like sharing a bedroom, though, and living off-campus was much cheaper and more sensible.
As a sophomore, I lived in a classic slanty-ceilinged triple decker with lucasthegray and the_real_troll. There was a washer and dryer in the kitchen and a steady but low level of dirtiness about. I made ovaltang. I had my first kiss. The apartment caught fire.
I evacuated to Wachusett Street to stay with arcticelf, cykotek, doc_smiley, and kestrel404 during Finals. Afterward, kestrel404 graciously moved out a month early so I could have his room. I played games. I worked my butt off. I saw my social group fracture and nearly spiral out of control.
As a senior, I once again lived in a classic slanty-ceilinged triple decker, this time with chameleonlac. This one had windows. And two layers of carpeting. And was a really cool apartment. It was fun to hang out in, even if the tv was never hooked up to anything. I ran my first roleplaying game. I got a boyfriend. I went to Italy. I graduated.
I was unemployed. I moved in with my parents. I helped them paint and redo two bedrooms (mine included). I became a teacher. I went on road trips. I joined the SCA. I fell in love. I worked as software engineer. I moved in with my girlfriend. She broke my heart. I moved back in with my parents. I recovered. I stayed with Camelot. I discovered that my new friends in Camelot and the SCA would stand by me. I discovered that one of them loved me and I loved her.
A friend of mine moved to Hawaii and I inherited some of his stuff. I rented a storage locker in Northborough to keep it in until my unit was ready. Yesterday, I took my first carload of stuff out to it. It was stuff I already had in boxes - old white wolf games and transformers and tea sets and things. I went to Camelot to pick up one of rosinavs' folding tables and walked the neighborhood. I saw Courtney and Karen and Sean washing dishes. I saw John and Kathy's chairs on their front porch. I saw Wolvertons in their living room chatting and playing on the computer. I saw Slates sitting around the dining room table talking.
I've always felt like my life was an epic poem, full of twists and turns and uncertainty and inner turmoil. I see myself as Ulysses, tossed about on the seas of fate, having angered vengeful gods and been cursed with constant listlessness and never reaching my destination. I don't know if I'll be able to get a mortgage. I don't know if I'll be able to stay employed enough to afford it. Sawyer Hill may be Scylla and Charybdis. It may be the Pillars of Hercules. It may be Ithaca. No matter what, it's where my ship is headed.