Since arriving at Northeastern University as a transfer student in the fall of 1999, I have defined and redefined myself over and over again. As I prepare to graduate, I can safely say that nothing has brought me more true happiness than becoming a participating member of our university community. My arrival at this conclusion can be best explained by peering into several time windows of the maturing process that took place in me during the past four years.
May 1999: Having just spent my freshman year at a small state college in Colorado, all I can say is thank God I’m headed back to Boston. This experience out west has taught me a lot of things. One of them is that I prefer being where people actually speak in complete sentences. The slow-paced if not all-out apathetic lifestyle I found in the Rocky Mountains is something I don’t want. All I really care about now is being at a decently respectable school, in a city where there’s something going on beyond the local cattle auction. All I need is to be accepted to Northeastern. If I get in, everything will be fine.
September 1999: I’m happy to have been accepted to NU, but I have no sense of why I’m here. It’s a cool autumn morning, I’m walking through the Curry Student Center to my first class ever at NU, and I’m feeling far from fine. Smashmouth’s “All Star” is driving me crazy, I’m gagging on a stale muffin that I had ordered the previous night from Kozmo.com, and I’ve just discovered how horrible NU coffee is. As I pass by the information desk, bookstore, and news racks, I think to myself, “Why am I in college? Maybe I should drop out and day-trade tech stocks instead. Maybe THAT will make me happy.” As I arrive at a large Mugar classroom for Intro to Psychology, I nearly keel over at the sight of so many good-looking young women in a single space. I have it figured out! All I need is the right girlfriend, and the next four years would be happy.
May 2000: I now realize that the Gucci eyed and Prada footed women of NU are evil and I want nothing to do with them. Now my “true” path to happiness is finding a new place to live. Having just spent a year at 881 Huntington Ave., I now know the meaning of the word “ghetto.” A mission hill garbage heap is my household’s primary source of scenery. I’m flanked on my left by a crack house and on my right by a murder scene that’s been blocked off by police tape. Behind me are screaming ambulances headed for all the hospitals, and in front of me is Jamaica Liquors, not exactly a first-class business establishment. A nicer place to live will bring me the satisfaction I’m lacking.
January 2001: I just spent a summer in the “nice” Symphony neighborhood and found that it’s overpriced, snooty and obnoxiously loud Thursday through Sunday nights. I now have a beautiful apartment in a great neighborhood of Jamaica Plain, but my life remains unfulfilling. Maybe I’ve been too shallow all this time. Perhaps I need to dig a bit deeper and find some spiritual satisfaction. Meditation from here on out. Twenty minutes each day without exception! This ought to do the trick!
September 2001: Terror attacks have put things into perspective. Though I’m not ready to completely discard all these concepts of loving gods and spiritual oneness, the fact that September 11 was done in the name of religion makes me want to find happiness somewhere else. I no longer need a trophy wife or fancy house. All I want now is a decent job where I can enjoy the recognition that comes as a result of hard work. This year needs to be about finding a good summer internship. Once I get it, I’ll work hard there, and set myself up for employment upon graduation. As long as I have a job lined up for the future, nothing else matters.
September 2002: Well, having discovered new revenue sources for the ad department of a major newspaper, I may have a lucrative job opportunity lined up. But, as a creative writer, do I REALLY want to spend my life selling newspaper ads from a cubicle? Obviously not. Though I’m somewhat satisfied because I have a loving girlfriend, a nice place to live, and a possible job, it still feels like something is missing.
May 2003 (today): I’m really, legitimately happy, and I think I know what was missing all along. It was community involvement. This has not just come through being an NU News columnist, though it has helped. It has come from taking a bit of ownership in my surroundings. The happiness came when I realized that we’re all in a position to do something great at this school. I kick myself for not discovering this earlier.
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