On Communal Living

Ever since I read The Buddha of Suburbia, I have fancied living in a community, where strangers live in harmony in a communist style anarchy. A collage of people benefiting of each other's abilities, something that would fit Firestone's definition of alternative living arrangements. (Before you picture me as a Neanderthal, I'm talking about Shulamith Firestone, the radical Feminist, not the Flingstones!!)

But the feasibility of my fantasy is questionable. I am someone who needs space. By "space" I mean, a private chamber with thick walls where I can scream and shout and mope all I want.

I believe that my living arrangement now, at Frederiksen Court, Ames, is the closest I will ever get to "communal living". I share a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom and laundry area with three other girls, all undergraduates at ISU.

They are all locals, living within about two hours from the university. In spite of the stereotypes, I have found Mid-westerners to be polite, friendly and helpful. One could accuse them of ignorance, but that is excusable when you live right at the middle of a mega-huge landscape that stretches to infinity and beyond.

Many times I've had to explain that I am from Sri Lanka. Where exactly is that? South of India, it's a small island. (Smaller even than the State of Iowa, mind you.) One person even asked me if we go to India all the time. I think in his imagination, Sri Lanka is just a beach and a few palm trees, and the nearest supermarket is in India. So if you want some groceries, you jump on a boat to go find the main land.

I've had people stare at me, starry-eyed. I have two explanations for this reaction. One is that they are surprised by my skin, eye and hair color, and the fact that I am not Indian. Wow this monkey speaks English?!? On a less sarcastic note, I think they find me an exotic spectacle, come here from a breathtaking island nation of golden beaches and elephants, pineapples and temples. The word ocean in the Midwest is almost akin to "heaven". The ocean is an enormous, beautiful creation that you have heard of but only seen once, and that also many years ago. So much so that its existence borders the unreal, like a dream.

Coming back to my living quarters, I think at least one other girl shares my kink for healthy food. Whole grain, oats and all things natural overload our kitchen. In my bedroom I have sacks (SACKS, not packets) of rice, potatoes, onions and other things. The refrigerator is packed, with exotic yet smelly spicy food that the pseudo-Indian brought with her, at least 20 types of sauces, gallons and gallons of milk and other stuffs.

The bathroom, in true girly fashion, is staked with shampoos, conditioners and other products. I counted 35 (I am not exaggerating) WITHOUT the stuff inside the bathroom cupboard. So we have 35 products lying around. Sigh...

My writing has deteriorated and I forgot what I came here to write about. Well. I'll leave that and proper blogging for another time. Now I will get myself down to the community center to do some homework!! >.<

On Fending for Oneself...

I never thought living on your own would be this hard. Not to sound naive, I knew it would be tough, but I never expected it to be THIS hard.
It's the little things that make life rough and shake you up. Like laundry. And breakfast.

Also realizing that, "Life is a journey, not a destination" (Aerosmith 1994) can hurt when you are 21+. Last year I celebrated my coming of age (legally) in a rather queer fashion, but looking back I feel that in spite of the fake cheer and grandiose expectations of love and life frosted on a girl's 21st-birthday-cake, the dawn of that day does hold a significance in a person's life, sort of like, if I may be permitted the cliche, a stepping-stone into adult life (I almost wrote adultery).
Realizing that you are an adult and that college is after all not so different from high school on a Winter's eve can be hard on anyone. The words Graduate School loom ominously on the horizon. And scary words like Marriage and Children poke their heads out of dark corners.
But for tonight, I'll distract myself with homework, cough syrup and sleep.

What I've Learnt at College

Though I have much to write about the new place fate brought me to I have been expertly procrastinating, coming up with one colorful excuse after the other. And Facebook's got me hooked, I don't know why, but after so many years of Facebook use I finally feel the addiction stronger than it has ever been. May be that is just because I am away from my loved ones for so long, but yeah, whatever.

What finally made me write, at 1.30 am on a school night, is my sudden realization of what college really means to me. Or rather, what I expect it to mean....

Fuck my writing is bad...


But yeah, to cut the crap and the profanity, the first week of college has taught me that everything I learned is school was a blatant lie. That there is no such thing as 'truth' or absolute knowledge. What we perceive as truth is as subjective as our own beliefs and illusory senses.... and yes I can go on. But I'm sleepy and probably suffering from post-traumatic stress of my Hapkido class and severe hypothermia.

End of Rant.

Comments:
Rebecca Black writes better than me.