The time has come, as it does every year, for us to regret our current housing situations and daydream of what life could be like next fall, with a reasonable housing number. As we once again commit to the devil’s charade of picking our futures blindly out of a hat, with nothing but the faint hope of an open spot in West Village G to guide us.
However, while we pray to the fiery justice of Aoun, that he may mete out justice upon our living quarters, let us reflect upon the privilege we endure, by entertaining the words of the lessers of this world, the downtrodden, the desperate; the off-campus students.
I sat down with such an individual, Mia Burgess, bearing her plight upon my ears. I relay it to you now:
Mia: “I know I agreed to talk about the pros and cons of living off-campus, but I’m not doing this if you’re going to be fucking weird. Are you going to be weird about this?’
I knew not what she implied, nor where she had developed such an abrasive personality. Yet still I persisted.
Mia: “Dude I can see what you’re typing. Whatever, fuck it. Living off-campus is fine, no different than on-campus. I’m 5 minutes from ISEC bridge. If anything, not dealing with Northeastern’s shitty housing lottery has made this preferable. I’m planning on living on Lenox St. next year too.”
Any addiction can be difficult to overcome. Whether it be my drinking or her “apartment hunting”, everyone’s got their fix, even if they can’t see the pain it can cause. And while I couldn’t identify the foreign road name she mentioned, I was sure this apartment junkie was hooked.
Mia: “Look it’s not perfect. Having classes in Richard’s is a bitch and a half, but it lets me explore the city more. Isn’t that the point of living in Boston?”
She was adorable. As an eighth year myself, I had no such predilection for venturing across the rubicon of Tremont, nor the impassible border of Huntington (except for trips to Wolly’s). Yet somewhere in the turbulence of her bluster, in the chaos she described, I found solidarity.
Mia: “Biggest plus is the washer/dryer in my apartment. None of that bullshit like I had back at Stwest. And I can bring non-northeastern students into my building! I can finally chill with some friends without sneaking them in with a laundry cart.”
While that “friend” nonsense certainly would translate perfectly to a fellow street rat, I could do nothing but froth at the mouth to the idea of available laundry. Perhaps I had misjudged these people; these poor, desolate people.
Unfortunately, there was little time left in the interview for self-reflection - Steast was serving curly fries tonight, which I had very much been looking forward to since the moment I sat down and talked to that pitiful girl.
Mia: “Who the fuck has a 3 minute interview? Alright you’re just being a dick. I’m out.”