By Justin Rebello is a middler journalism major

In early May, I received a letter from Northeastern claiming I had to move out of my campus apartment in less than a week. One week later, I resided across the quad from my old home, West Village A Tower, and now live in West C for two painfully tragic months.

I loved the tower. The elevators were fast, the vending machines were top notch and, on a clear night, I could see Fenway Park, otherwise known as “Mecca.”

Why am I telling you this? Because I’ve always known certain buildings close down in the summer because fewer students live on campus. That makes sense to me. I understand this. But, as usual, Northeastern has used this logic as a springboard to screwing over its upperclassmen yet again.

My understanding is, it makes more financial sense to close buildings down. You save on electricity, water and all the other costly services utilized when people live in a building. I understand this. What I don’t understand is why Northeastern has yet to make use of this reasoning.

Last month, approximately 116,823 people (I may have exaggerated this number) from City Year were on campus. You might have recognized them with their red jackets and cult activities. Where did the City Year people shack up? You guessed it, West Village.

Now, I think anyone who has lived on campus during the Red Jacket Era can safely attest to the fact City Year ruined our Boston summer faster than Nomar’s defense. They packed into the dining hall, were up making noise at the crack of dawn (10 a.m.), and had this disturbing tendency to grin and stare as you walked by, desperately trying not to make eye contact.

My point is, what are these people doing in my tower? Because Northeastern was able to profit by renting out the building to them? Fine, but how do you explain the mammoth housing bill that gets sent to my home every semester asking me to pay ludicrous amounts to share a bedroom? Doesn’t Northeastern profit from our room and board? Where does the money go? A person could go crazy thinking about this.

It gets worse; every night I walk by the tower, and every night without fail, there sits a community receptionist. You know, those people who swipe your card every time you want to go home. So, let me get this straight: Northeastern hired someone to essentially sit there, knowing full well nobody is going to need their card swiped? I refuse to believe the job market is in that bad of condition where Northeastern can hire someone to serve as a receptionist in a building nobody lives in.

Maybe I’m just bitter, but ResLife has really gone to some great lengths to make my life miserable this summer. I’m forced to leave my building for starters. I requested living with three of my friends, assuming this would be cake considering I was a middler and had considerable seniority. Nope, screwed again — as it turns out, ResLife decided it would be more convenient to do away with seniority and place people in rooms based on their autumn housing. Since I’m living off-campus in the fall this put me right at the bottom of the preferences list.

So, to summarize, Northeastern has successfully eradicated the one advantage held by upperclassmen in this school. Well played.

But we can fight back. Next week is the Democratic National Convention in Boston, and guess where many of the delegates will be housed? You guessed it. As a result, I say we act as immature as humanly possible; yell Republican slogans out your windows if you must. This is our home, Northeastern, and we have a right to defend it.

–Justin Rebello is a middler journalism major.