The Art of Living (With People)

The inspiration for this post: I just heard a low buzzing from down the hall and I knew exactly who was walking towards the bathroom: Austin.

I promise this will not be as creepy as I just made that sound. Let me explain myself.

I knew it was him because he always goes to bed around midnight and right when he prepares to go to bed, he walks up and down the hallway in his towel and electronic toothbrush. (That's where the buzzing comes from, in case you didn't figure that out...)

And besides the fact that I'm making myself sound like a psycho stalker, I'm just trying to communicate what I realized tonight: I have gotten to know the living styles of my dormmates so extremely well that the accumulated total of it all has become some sort of personal background noise.

The muffled drone of mathematical equations, as one person explains to another why you need to separate out certain variables to get to x or y or z. The constant click-clack of typing, as someone always has their laptop out. In the morning, if I'm working in the hallway at around 7am, I hear successive screeches and songs and beeps awaking my neighbors. The blasting of Call Me Maybe thunders from the other end of the hallway. Then, as I walk by a few rooms, I hear the distinct guitars plucking Jason Mraz or John Mayer songs. Some people are bouncing balls against the wall (most annoying thing ever), doors are always opening and closing, opening and closing, opening and closing. Our little maybe-ghost pours cereal at 3:15 AM every single night. The unmistakable shouts of pain as people try to maneuver through our obstacle course of a room {most attempts are unsuccessful}. The banging at the side door because somebody forgot to bring their key card. Raucous, outrageous laughter from some room or other. Various profanities from the rooms underneath us - boys playing FIFA can get pretty intense. The particular rowdiness of the first floor, the comfortable silence of the third, and the perfect mix of the two of the second. And of course-- Cassandra's window-shattering laughter resounds through the entire dorm every sixteen point nine minutes or so. It's basically my favorite thing ever.

It's not just the sounds, either.

It's the smells. The aroma of greasy chicken tenders or quesadillas from Axe & Palm. The fragrance of my favorite perfume that I get from Paige's room every night. The too-strong scent of the lavender air spray we use to cover up the stink of our refrigerator. Dirty laundry. Fresh laundry. The different colognes and perfumes that certain people use... So-and-so uses Axe. So-and-so uses Chance by Chanel. No judging.

It's the sights. Our room - the messiest room in the world. Maybe literally. The half-eaten plates of grilled chicken all around the hallways. The remnants of the RF's twins' daytime fun. The different furniture arrangements in the lounge according to who was working there when. The different room arrangements that Cassandra and I inspired (or so we tell ourselves). The Super Mario Brothers stickers plastered on every wall, as evidence to our house theme.

It's the intuition. I know who is opening the outside door based on how hard they yank it, how loud their keys jangle, and what their first words are when they walk in. I know exactly who is outside my door at all times, even if they are whispering. I know where everybody is at any point during the day, based on getting to know their schedules through a long quarter.

Everything I've mentioned above, I didn't try to learn intentionally. It's just become a part of my own life and schedule. It's come from living with these people for eight months and slowly acclimating to the way they live their lives. We've all melded together as one, and it's weird to think that in less than a month, it's not going to be like this anymore and we are going to have to get used to different sights and sounds and smells. I'm going to miss this.