The Consequences of Dissonance - Chapter Five

Our check in was on Friday afternoon, and the rest of that weekend was to be orientation. Part of the whole deal was for us to do much of the activities in the orientation together as a hall and get to know each other well, what with having to live together for the next two semesters.

The whole hall went to dinner together, along with the other three halls in our wing, in what was a concerted effort to not flood the dining hall with the entire dorm’s worth of students at once. The four liberal arts majors sat together again after making their way through the line for pizza and pasta, and the line for drinks. The food was a little disappointing to me, having been brought up on health food under my mom and cooking for myself or going out with my dad. Mark assured us, though, that the our dorm had one of the worst kitchens around, and that if we wanted some better food, there were better kitchens to go to in order to get it.

After dinner, there were some activities at the student center that we were all supposed to attend and supposedly enjoy, though the whole thing wound up being a blur of boredom and I spent more time picking the occasional table of free goodies such as CSU branded pens and cups than I did on the activities laid out for us. Poker and TV had never appealed to me.

I asked Mark if I could leave early and got a shrug in response.

Back at my room, I worked on setting up my computer at the minimal desk we were given. The tower just barely fit under the desk, and if I put it there, I was left with no room for my legs, so it wound up on the corner closest to the windows, where I figured it would block any sunlight from my monitor. The printer sat on one of the shelves beneath it and the shelf below that was able to hold my paper and binders and, I figured, my text books as well. There was only just room on the top of the desk for my monitor — a battered but usable CRT — and my keyboard and mouse. The corner closest to the bed had just enough room for my alarm clock.

Cozy, for certain definitions of cozy, I thought. The room was about the size of my room back at home, and I only got half the space.

I set up my pillow and blanket with my head near the desk and feet near the door so I would be close to the alarm clock and could see if anyone came in.

My clothes and laundry basket both fit in my half of the closets, and my small library of books fit fairly well into the three shelves built into the insides of the closet. Unpacked, I decided to check out the bathroom.

One nine one one, and I was in, confronted with a bathroom divided in half. On one side of the dividing wall were the urinals and stalls, and on the other, stalls for showers and a bank of sinks with mirrors. I peeked into one of the shower stalls on a whim and decided my mom was right: the floor was that a gritty concrete painted a sort of blue. Rough enough to provide traction, but smooth enough to clean. I loathed the texture. I’d go pick up some sandals or something as soon as i could figure out where.

The rest of the evening was spent finishing my computer’s setup and chatting on the ’net about the first day with a few friends on IRC and high school acquaintainces over IM. I crashed at the early hour of ten or so, setting my alarm for seven.