My best decision at Georgetown was made before I even arrived on campus. It was also a decision I did not make: picking my roommate. Well, not picking.
I made the rather bold or (arguably) stupid decision to go random for my freshman year roommate. The decision to let go and trust the universe changed more than just where I slept.
Tired of scrolling through the accepted student Instagram page, I decided not to reach out to anyone. Not because I didn’t find anyone interesting, but because I was overwhelmed by the choices. Everyone came from different parts of the world and it showed. There was everything including well-posed solo pictures, group shots near beaches, sports teams, and orthodontist-approved smiles, all accompanied by nondescript bios about how they “love going out, but also staying in.”
I pored over these snapshots, envisioning myself with people, wondering who I could sit with at night, trading stories and kicking our feet in the air.
I envisioned the stereotypical image of two girls in twin XLs with matching sheets and decor, lying on their stomachs, giggling, and eating popcorn. Thanks, mainstream media! In this vision, homework did not exist, neither did club responsibilities, nor the possibility that we wouldn’t get along. And just like with everything, I put too much pressure on it to be perfect.
This desire to be perfect is still something I am unlearning. Yet, freshly graduated Renee, (still) not diagnosed with ADHD, was facing decision fatigue. During a time when my feed on every platform was filled with must-brings for college, decor inspiration, and the best going-out tops for frat parties, I couldn’t handle the pressure of finding a roommate whose nails I would like to paint.
I had gone through the Campus Housing Roommate Matching System (CHARMS) process when I was admitted the year before, but an unexpected gap year and health complications had left my would’ve-been roommate with an extra bed. Terrified to imagine a future with someone else only for it to not pan out again, I left my fate in the hands of Residential Living. From their office in Harbin, they held my future in their hands, as well as the spare keys I would find myself frequently needing.
When I was assigned my roommate, I did the only thing someone in my position could: I stalked her. Instagram posts, stories, tagged photos, the meaning of the psalm in her bio, and even her high school weightlifting stats, as if those mean anything to someone who has been to Yates less than 10 times. I wanted to know everything about the girl whose bed would touch mine.
I told my parents my findings, and my dad let that slip on move-in day when he asked her about weightlifting. My face turned red as I admitted to her I did a deep dive. She was sweet, only to tell me months later that it was weird, but she had seen too much at that point.
We weren’t instant besties, but two people who learned to live with each other. In doing so, we discovered each other’s music tastes, night routines, and sounds of laughter. We didn’t hang out with each other often and had different circles, but coming back to the dorm every night brought a sense of familiarity knowing she would be there, and I hope she felt the same.
I found my people, slowly, tediously, not realizing she was one of them until the spring.
All the friends I had made were like me in some way, and she was not. I learned a lot from her different interests. She taught me how football works while I filled her in on celebrity gossip, especially Taylor Swift. Then, the “Community in Diversity” slogan, as hung on lampposts in Healy lawn, finally clicked.
So, if I have one suggestion, it is to let go.
We don’t live together anymore, and I don’t know if we ever will again, but letting go of preconceived notions about what Georgetown and friends here should look like allowed me to find one of my best ones.
Unexpected changes in plans led me to find my place at Georgetown. My plan to join The Hoya went out the window when I stepped into the Voice office, saw unhinged quotes on the wall and answered icebreakers about favorite Corp snacks. My plan to be a Government major was also crushed when International Relations put me to sleep. Getting rejected from a dance team helped me find a friend, who also got the same “unfortunately, we have a limited number of spots to….” email (you know the rest.)
Recently, when my aunt called about my cousin who was trying to figure out her roommate, my advice was to go random. The best experiences have come from randomness: the ones I did not plan, the clubs I joined on a whim, the people I unexpectedly sat next to during freshman orientation or met when I was returning chairs I had stolen back to the common room.
Now, as I plan to study abroad next semester, and as a recovering perfectionist, there is more than a huge part of me that wants to plan every single detail. But there is a new part of me that wants to surrender to new experiences to find where life takes me.
