By 'first year...', I mean my dorm room. I've never shared anything more than a bathroom and house with my parents, but then again, I was born into my family. They are all I can remember. I wasn't submitted into an online database which paired myself and my roommate with two other randoms.
I can remember the first, and mainly, only conversation I had with my suite mates.
"Alright, I wake up at 9, ____ wakes up at 930. I get first dibs on shower, then him".
I've never shared much more than a pencil which such a territorial human since school, and it took me quite a shock.
I can also remember other times when I would be using the restroom and a shrill and harsh pounding would overcome the bathroom tiles, expecting a short reply of my not so timely existence in the bathroom.
I remember frantically unlocking their door when I was finished, and running out of the room, shutting the door behind me silently, trying to hide my tracks, as if I were escaping a massive, angry, hungry prey.
Oh dear. I also remember having the room to myself sometimes and wanting so bad to turn up my music whilst cleaning in the weekend mornings.
It was a shame that I was an early morning riser, at assuming my 'mates' sleep, I would have to clean silently for a good two or three hours.
I was also repressed musically. I felt almost claustrophobic in my room playing my guitar, of God forbid, singing.
It's interesting and provides a nice story to tell people who know my music that all music recorded within the last year span was indeed done in the constraints of my car; quirky if you will.
Regardless, I did enjoy having my own slice of independence, though sharing it with one other took away a lot of it.
What I'm trying to say is that as long as I have some control over my living arrangements for the rest of my life, I will (hopefully) opt for a room to myself, and a roommate who understands me. That is all.
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