Tara and I exchanged Facebook messages and Skyped right after we received our room, so I knew a few basic details about her and, thankfully, how to pronounce her name correctly ("tar as in target.") She seemed really fun and I was almost afraid to tell her that I was a varsity athlete. I didn't want her to think that I would be a drag, and I think I prefaced it by saying something like, "Please don't write me off." To her credit, she didn't, even though I wasn't fun all the time.
We talked about the room and, even though I can't remember why I thought it was a good idea at the time, I asked what she thought about having our beds in the inner room and desks in the outer room. She agreed more room for activities and suggested that we get a futon. I think that was actually a defining choice for our year. Instead of two separate spaces connected by a door, our room was a mutual space where our friends-to-be could hang out and get to know each other.
It wasn't long before our visitors started to comment on how different we were, and we noticed it too. Personality-wise, we couldn't have been more dissimilar. Tara has become my definition of the word "chill." I am a lot of things, but chill is not one of them. We both work hard, but approach things in very different ways.
We also came from very different places. Tara is from Southern California, but her parents are from Iran and much of her family still lives there. She travels a lot and had just returned from exploring Europe with her friends fiercely independent as always. I came straight to Dartmouth from the conservative suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio, where I grew up and went to the same school for 16 years. I had never met, much less lived, with somebody with a background and personality so different from my own.
While Tara tried out what campus had to offer, I did my best to adjust to life on a Division I rowing team. Although I know she didn't understand why I was doing it, she was very supportive and adaptive. When we shifted to morning practice in the spring and my alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. every day, she never complained.
We had a conversation once about our first impressions of each other, which were basically right and wrong at the same time. Our differences became visible pretty quickly, and neither of us was totally sure how the year would go. Looking back, it seems far clearer to me that we would slide comfortably into our pattern of living together. If the first night in our room together was awkward, I don't remember it.
The routine became so comfortable that I have a hard time recalling specific moments. My best memories of living with Tara are things like sitting on the futon together while we did our work, or Skyping in with her family and friends, who were just as charming when I met them in person as when I met them on the screen.
Tara lit up our room. When I say this, I mean that she purchased twin strobe lights, taped them to the corners of the ceiling, and literally lit up our room, to a degree that should have warranted an epilepsy advisory on our door. I came home late one night in the winter to find that she had locked me out of the room and set up a scavenger hunt that sent me all over our floor in search of the key.
She orchestrated a celebration of the Persian New Year for her friends and shared her traditions with us. And when we were stressed over midterms, she would calm us both down with the Celine Dion rendition of "All by Myself" on full blast. After a long day, returning to our room felt like coming home.
When we came back for sophomore fall, I was so excited to see her even though we wouldn't be living together. Having to plan to hang out made me realize just how little overlap our lives at Dartmouth have.
If we hadn't been roommates, I'm honestly not sure if we would have met, even as mere acquaintances. I don't think we would have realized just how well we get along. But Tara is an important part of my experience here, and especially of my freshman year. We lived together through so many achievements, disappointments and everything in between.
It underscored for me the importance of being open, to the new experiences and opportunities that Dartmouth has to offer but especially to the people I met. The first person you hit it off with might not be your closest friend by the end of the year, and the person who gave you a bad vibe might surprise you completely. Being open to people is important because you won't know how much they change you until they already have.
Tara is one of my closest friends at Dartmouth, not because we are inseparable or have so many common interests, but because someone in the Office of Residential Life thought our survey responses were similar enough for us to cohabitate. In a place with so many unfamiliar people over 1,000 new ones every year it can be nice to have someone you're comfortable with, who understands where you're from and who you are.
For me, it worked out that my freshman roommate is that person. Your roommate doesn't have to be your best friend, and in all likelihood, he or she won't be. But if you actively learn about one another and foster a relationship that transcends your assigned living situation, you might be surprised at how that relationship can come to define your freshman year. I certainly was.
Through the Looking Glass is a weekly feature and welcomes submissions from the Dartmouth community. If interested, email mirror@thedartmouth.com.
