Someday, the messy moments from student housing will become our cherished anecdotes.
From Aberdeen to Earl St., Kingston’s peaceful neighbourhood streets have seen their fair share of mayhem from the large student body.
With the transition to summer fast approaching, the chaos of student housing is about to be put on pause, or for some, the chapter is even coming to an end. As the semester draws to a close, taking a moment to reflect on my student housing experiences has shown me how much love and beauty exists within the little moments.
Living with your friends as housemates and neighbours, without any “adult” figures to boss you around, means university sometimes feels like summer camp. While at school, friends and housemates begin to resemble your family—the ones who know your schedule and where you’re rushing off to, and all the other essentials like your Starbucks order and the class you dread.
It may be a dysfunctional family at times, but one of love and resilience, nonetheless.
Student housing isn’t without its struggles. Most of these houses don’t seem to adhere to fire safety laws and almost none of them would as remotely liveable for an average family. Kingston landlords leap at the opportunity to exploit students and the commotion that surrounds St. Patrick’s Day and Homecoming is a source of annoyance for some.
Yet, student housing’s a crucial transition period that serves as a steppingstone on the journey to adulthood. Learning self-reliance and independence can be difficult, but the student housing experience means this responsibility isn’t always your burden to shoulder alone.
There are lots of universalities to the student housing experience and the broader friendship it inspires.
Something I find funny about student housing is the fact your bed becomes a hub for socializing. With all the hustle and bustle, guests are shuffled into each other’s rooms where, more often than not, there’s little other furniture to lounge on besides a bed. Eventually, everyone finds a corner of the bed to curl up on.
Many of my most treasured conversations have begun on a bed with four or five friends all sprawled out in different positions, lazily debriefing over whatever is presently weighing on us.
My housemates knocking on my door to chat and then proceeding to hop under the covers and get comfortable is one of my favourite parts of the housing experience because of the intimacy it’s created between my friends and I.
A large part of the idealized university experience is going out drinking with your friends and housemates. I’ve heard countless graduates boasting about the crazy nights they had out on the town with their university friends. But my favourite aspect of nights out are the gatherings beforehand.
There’s often some sort of card and drinking game going on which usually leads to ionate disagreements that are forgotten within five minutes. A student pre always has a group fervently singing whatever song is playing off the JBL speaker on the cluttered table, until eventually someone grabs it to use as a microphone. The bathroom transforms into a lively spot for conversation.
The trek to the club begins with a fumble of keys switching between hands as the responsible friend locks the door. Soon, they’ll be met with a chorus of “is the door locked?” as our group traipses down the street, arm and arm, leaving the shared home behind for now.
I love the atmosphere of these messy pre-drinks so much that it’s always a struggle for me to want to leave, or as my friends’ joke, “to make it out.” The beforehand at home for me is always more exciting than the night out itself.
Navigating the bustling student kitchen requires a practiced skill that’s almost a dance. One person flits over to the microwave as someone else skips across to the fridge. The kitchen is lit with aromas and by the end of the night, with dishes ed back and forth, trying each other’s food. It’s an unspoken rule to pop out of your room and try the chef of the house’s cuisine.
Every day, the kitchen explodes into a sink full of suds shadowed by the thin smoke of burnt toast, water boiling for Annie’s Mac and Cheese, and Tupperware sprawled everywhere to prepare for weekly meal preps. The suggestion of a Costco trip begins to sound like an invitation to a free all-inclusive resort. My housemates and I have spent whole days gorging on Costco samples and stocking up on our favourite soup dumplings.
Here’s to these special moments that seem so simple but contain so much energy and life.
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