The Wake

Last year, I made plans to move out of the stifling dorms with my friends to the promised land of an apartment. In our heads danced ideas of swanky bachelor pads with wet bars that swung out from the wall at the push of a button, or living rooms torn from the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. It was to be the most glorious home ever created, famous in its time among college students everywhere. They would blink their eyes in wonder as they wept for their own living arrangements. Friends, I am here to tell you that there are no apartments in the metro area with wet bars which swing out from the wall at the push of a button, or at least not in the price range of a thousand dollars a month.

No, instead, we got rodents with attitude problems and a dysfunctional plumbing system. There is a passed-out hobo who hasn’t moved since we moved in, our landlord has literally stopped answering our phone calls and our lock has been tampered with at some point. That’s right, we live in Murderapolis. It’s the American dream at its best. Watching my parents eyes widen as they drove into my little neighborhood was likely the most humorous experience of my lifetime.

It’s true it’s better than living in the dorms. I’m never in a rush to run to UDS at 6:58 I don’t even have to eat UDS. Now chosen rather than assigned, my roommates aren’t spiteful bastards (shout-out to all the miserable kids who lie awake at night hoping their roommates just stop breathing). It’s an existence completely run by myself, and it’s exciting not to have a CA breathing down my neck as I do naughty things. We can have loud raucous parties that don’t involve the constant checking of the peephole.

This whole process made me wonder why there isn’t affordable student housing provided by the University. This apartment is less expensive than the dorms by $4,000 and $3,000 less than some of the apartments provided by the University. This situation leaves a student already worried about tuition on a tight budget and forces them to live in a dangerous neighborhood in order to continue their education.

We live in a time when education has never been more necessary or more expensive. In a year when students are supposed to feel happy because tuition will “only” rise by 4%, paying for both living and learning seems impossible. Like the socio-economic-based hierarchy that’s present everywhere else, college is polarized for those who can afford fancy living or those who live off of ramen and the mice trapped in their hallways. The University has to provide a middle ground. I’m not talking about my apartment with the wet bar which swings out from the wall, but a simple, safe housing close to campus that someone not supported by their parents can afford. Because let me tell you, if my house was University housing, I would have sued long, long ago.

But while I feel unsafe all the time, and my house has a new emergency every day, I’m making do. I’m doing this out of self-preservation, and because, goddamnit, that hobo in the street was nice. If the University refuses to give me anything else, I’m going to stick it to them. I’m going to sit here in my living room, eyes staring straight forward so I can’t see the vermin scurrying across the floor and rearrange my furniture. As much as my house sucks, I’m clinging to the dream of my swanky bachelor pad. Somehow, I will turn this pile of crap into a gem, and no amount of hobos or crack dealers can stop me.