NOT friends.

    I cannot even explain to you my excitement about starting college in the fall of 2009. It consumed my thoughts, my dreams, my conversations; it was a problem. But it wasn't the classes that I craved, nor the "college student" status. It wasn't the freedom to be a party-crazy teenager (okay, maybe a little), or the ability to go get a Big Mac at three in the morning just because I wanted to. Believe it or not, I was most excited about getting a dorm roommate.

    After filling out the questionnaire inquiring me about my sleep patterns, my preferred noise level, and my number on a scale of friendliness (weird question), I impatiently awaited my roommate assignment. Every day I checked the mailbox, hoping to see that letter. Days and days and days went by until FINALLY I was matched with a person. Obviously, the first thing I did was get on Facebook and check this chick out. She turned out to be from Colorado, was a volleyball player, was pretty (dammit), and seemed nice. At least I gathered that from reading through four months worth of wallposts and comments. Oh, that's weird?

    I mustered up the courage to send her a message that went something like this:

Heyy! so i just got my dorm assignment and it gave me your name! so we must be roommates :) :) :)

    After pushing SEND, I immediately regretted the third smiley-face. A little extreme. I figured I seemed like a nice, semi-normal person, however, and awaited her response.

    More waiting. About three days later, I got this:

Yeah...i'm actually rooming with another girl from the v-ball team. sry

    Say what? 

    I most definitely did not wait two months to be shut down by this volleyball player.  I immediately went whining to my mom and begged her to "fix it! fix it!" so she called the school. It turned out that they had an abnormally high request for dorms that year and therefore had some complications. I, apparently, was accidentally matched with Miss Volleyball and would be re-matched with someone just as suited as soon as possible.

    More waiting. Luckily, they had a short timeframe to work within because by this time, it was approaching the first week of school. I received a letter two days before I left for college with a new name. A little hope was restored in my heart.

    Move in day was a rush. I still remember being on some sort of high as I walked the route to my new little "home". Using my key, I unlocked then entered my dormroom, expecting this amazing space in which I could place all my little trinkets and bejeweled picture frames. Instead, it looked as though my new roommate had decorated it to her particular taste:

    I was in shock. Not only was it a mess, but she had stolen the best spot in the room: the window area. All I was left with was the lonely unlit spot next to the door. Yay me.

    Just as my family was joining me in my disappointment seizure, the culprit walked in. Gathering myself and trying my best to be friendly, I remembered that you can't judge a book by its cover. The name on the paper I was sent read "Tysha" which I assumed was just a new-wave way of spelling the common name "Tisha", so I said:

"Hi! You must be Tisha! I'm excited to finally be here, and to me-" -myself, a little forced enthusiasm coming through

"It's T-y-sha." -Tysha, the interrupting messy person

From that moment, I knew it was going to be a rough year. My family stood awkwardly with matching awkward smiles painted on their faces. Tysha walked in, plopped onto her bed, grabbed three Cheetos off her desk chair, and began texting.

To Be Continued....