The Rocket

Issue date: 8/31/07 Section: Focus

Media Credit: Submitted Photo Sophomore communication major Katie Kurylo packs her dad's car to the brim before leaving her hometown of Natrona Heights, Pa., and heading back to the Rock on Sunday. [Click to enlarge]

Media Credit: Submitted Photo Kurylo's roommate, Stephanie VanKirk, 19, a sophomore art major, fills out her room condition report for the girls' room in Watson Hall. [Click to enlarge]

9:00 a.m. - Alarm goes off.

9:30 a.m. - I consider getting out of bed.

9:36 a.m. - I remember I never packed my suitcase of clothes the night before.

9:56 a.m. - Finish packing suitcase of clothes.

10:04 a.m. - Stumble across a whole pile of things I forgot to pack.

10:05 a.m. - Sigh heavily.

I was thoroughly disgusted and my day had only just begun. Running around my room, trying desperately to remember where I had put my hair dryer, I wished that I could just climb back in bed and start the day over again. Maybe the second time around I would get it right.

As I was busy packing and carrying very heavy objects up and down the stairs, I realized again how much I loathe moving.

All the packing, hefting and lifting that goes with moving is just really not my cup of tea. It was as though all the tightly arranged boxes in my dad's car felt the need to remind me just how much I hate moving, you know, just in case it had slipped my mind since last May.

I know I'm not alone in my loathing of the whole moving-in process. I've not found one person to say that they actually like physically moving in.

But what some may not realize is that there is some merit to be found underneath all the grunt work. It's what happens after the cleaning and unpacking that has a kind of magic to it.

Now please understand, I'm not speaking of Cinderella's "turn back into a pumpkin at midnight" magic, but of the overall feeling that is present at the start of every school year. A sort of electric atmosphere settles over campus, one that's very different from any other time of the year.

It is certainly different from the sluggish, after-Christmas blues of the second semester and it varies from the post-spring-break buzz, too. It is an almost-tangible emotion that holds its own next to the nearly euphoric freedom of summer.

It takes many different forms and hides behind many different faces. Sometimes it's in the shape of an old friend. Or maybe it is in the face of a friendly stranger that helps you find your classes. It is in the excitement of moving into a new space and making it your own. The magic lives between clean notebook pages, in the creases of brand new clothes and in the sound of a zipper on a backpack.

Last year, my freshman year, the magic just wasn't flowing. Maybe Tinkerbell took a day off or something, but I was really thoroughly miserable. I did not like my classes. I had made no new friends and of course, the Freshman Fifteen caught up to me way too quickly.

It seemed like everyone around me was having a great time and I had just slipped through the cracks somehow. I was just as excited as everyone else was. I too could feel that rush, the magic. I felt like it was just out of my reach and I wasn't really quite sure how to stretch that extra inch to get it.

To say that this year has been completely different would be a grave understatement. Driving up to Watson Hall was like coming home.

I said hello to at least three different people on my way to the front desk. I sped through the check-in process and was opening the door to my new room in less than 10 minutes.

Instead of crying to my parents about how much I wish I was home, I was literally shoving them out of my room so I could start rearranging.

Once my roommate arrived, there was none of the initial new roommate awkwardness.

We immediately began making plans for dinner and visits to other friends. There were no forced socialization parties or get-togethers. Not that those aren't helpful in the quest to finding friends, but for a mostly introverted person like myself, they can be painful.

Sitting at dinner that night, I was hit with the idea that maybe I have finally found my little piece of the magic. I see it in my friends' smiles. I feel it in the knowledge that new people are just potential friends.

Moving is really about as far away from magic as you can get. It is sweaty, tiring work. It can be stressful and many people hate it. But looking past the boxes of bedding and suitcases of clothes, I can see a magical happy ending.

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