Editor's Note: Through the Looking Glass is The Mirror's newest feature. We welcome submissions from all members of the community both past and present who wish to write about defining experiences, moments or relationships during their time at Dartmouth. Please submit articles of 800-1,000 words to the.dartmouth@dartmouth.edu.
There are times when I hate not being busy. Because when I don't have a million things to do, I might realize that I don't have anyone to hang out with. It's not something you talk about at Dartmouth. Who wants to admit that maybe they're the loser with no friends? But I've come to think more of us at Dartmouth have experienced this feeling than we'd expect.
For me, freshman year started by being dumped from the warm arms of Trips straight onto the Dartmouth campus. Reality. And suddenly, no one wanted to get to know me. I stood terrified in line at FoCo, scared that one of the million groups of friends would see me eating alone. No one in real life had dyed their hair absurd colors just to welcome me. Part of the issue was culture shock I'm from a town with just over half the population of Hanover. But I had taken a gap year, made friends in Argentina and Colorado. And yet Dartmouth continued to feel alien, a sea of strange faces walking across the Green.
Yes, I had my roommates, my tripees, the group that I'd go out with on weekends. But they weren't people I could just be quiet with or talk with about metaphysics. On Sundays, I would find myself locked away in the padded walls of the percussion studio, occasionally fighting back tears. I started to think that the problem was me. Of all these people who had their lives figured out, who would want to talk to me? I wasn't funny enough, loud enough, blah blah blah. I did not have a place at this school, I only had me bare-naked me and that wasn't good enough.
To distract myself, I threw myself into as many activities as I could lay my hands on. My goal was being busy, and I succeeded. The first thing I cut was lunch dates. And then dinner dates no time to do anything but eat on the run. And then hanging out on my freshman floor. One day, I realized that I was timing conversations. It had come to the point where people were distractions in my life. Things had come full circle. I was now the one who couldn't be bothered to stop and talk.
I think this is the root of the problem. At Dartmouth, we're all too busy. We have to make choices between work and fun, extracurriculars and people. And there are no right choices. There are no good priorities. At some point, you have to cut friends, and at some point, you have to cut classes.
Things did get better for me freshman year. I remember the first day I walked from the Hop to Novack and stopped four times to say hi. I was floating on a cloud, almost skipping down the Baker-Berry stairs. Maybe Dartmouth was my place.
But I still left freshman year feeling that I had no real community, no friends I'd call at 3 a.m. or who I'd drop everything to drive cross-country with.
It was during DOC Trips 2011 that I first wondered if this was not just my issue. At the Lodge, '12s and '13s shrieked and ran to hug each other while '14s made small talk. And it wasn't only me. We sophomores stood apart from each other, swinging our arms and glancing around the Leech field. We were happy to see each other and yet somehow awkward.
Since then, in my many late night conversations and King Arthur Flour study breaks, friend after friend has told me that they don't have a community. It's a struggle that surfaced when a close friend agonized over rerushing and again when a friend went to Dick's House for mysterious reasons at the beginning of term. I'm not sure that this is isolated to Dartmouth.
Over winter break, a friend from high school I hadn't talked to in six months called me. She drove over to my house, sat on my bed and explained between sobs that she didn't have anyone who was actually there for her.
It's not a Dartmouth issue, but I think Dartmouth is particularly conducive to the problem. We're so damned busy. One '13 friend said he had a moment of crisis over sophomore summer when he realized that he had no true friends. The only friends he had were those that adapted to his schedule. But, he added, he's addicted to doing things. How do we make a community when we can't even stand still?
Personally, things have gotten better since freshman year. Memories and images of friends have plastered over Dartmouth: Naked pong in the rain. The glow of the bonfire while EMS bandaged up my foot, a friend waiting for me to finish his laps with him. Graffitting the chalk boards in Wilder, being cracked out and hysterical after a night of problem sets.
And I've found my pigeon holes here, too. I'm a chubber, a sustainable food person, a musician. I live in Robo, the SLC, the Hop and associated off-campus houses. I'm comfortable in those circles so comfortable I sometimes forget to leave them. So comfortable that I occasionally forget that there is a me outside of my activities. And so comfortable that I forget about loneliness. I'm afraid I have become one of those upperclassmen who passed me by last year.
Getting-to-know you conversations are awkward it's easier to stick by the people I know. And frankly, I'm really, really busy.
But there are still lonely freshmen and lost classmates. I don't mean to write off Dartmouth. Many, many people have left Dartmouth with incredibly strong communities.
And the problem takes different forms. A friend recently told me she has many communities but no real friends. But we need communities, and we need friends to define ourselves by.
So, I don't have any answers. All I can do is say, to my friends: You're beautiful and I love you, even if I never see you. And to everyone else: Blitz me, maybe we could grab coffee. Who knows, maybe we could be friends.
