First day of college. First college classes. First day of the rest of my life. The typical teenage movie thoughts were running through my mind as I, a little too eagerly, turned off my alarm, climbed down from bed, and proceeded directly to the bathroom. I was that girl who greeted everyone with a loud and overly enthusiastic “good morning.” In a hall of freshmen who definitely were not morning people, I paid no attention to their scowls and greeted each girl with a bright smile as she slumped to her shower caddie. This was just one of the many naive things I would do all throughout the day.
I finished my morning bathroom routine, heating each strand of hair to a crisp until it was poker straight and applying as much eyeliner as a mature college girl should wear. No more of that inch-thick layer of make-up that immature high school girls wore. I was an adult and adults wore just a thin line.
I would say that picking out my outfit was tough but I had been planning my first day of class outfit since I registered for class two months prior. It was warm out, still summery, with a fall-is-just-around-the-corner breeze. I put on a tight blue skirt and flowing white short-sleeved top: the perfect combination of sexy and mature. After all, I could be meeting my future husband today. I would want him to look back on that moment he saw me walk into our lit class in that beautiful outfit.
I now have come to realize boys could care less what you are wearing, but Freshman Me thought this was the greatest idea. So off to breakfast mature-and-sexy me went. Another naive idea was that I would actually have time for breakfast each morning.
It wasn’t until I finished my banana and yogurt (naively trying to avoid the freshmen 15) that I realized I had no idea where the building for my first class was. Great I’m going to be one of those freshman who has to ask where to go. The loser. I refused to be that person. Gasson was the pretty building everyone took pictures of, so it had to be easy to find. I could blend in here, fit in, not stand out as a total freshie.
I embarked on my journey out of the dining hall to find the mysterious Gasson. I walked in line behind the busy moving students. For a moment it felt like I was walking the streets of New York instead of Boston College. I remembered Gasson vaguely from my tour. This is Gasson Hall, a classroom building but also home of a statue the Vatican has been trying to get its hands on for years. From orientation I knew this was the building everyone Instagrammed “#gassongram,” and my orientation leader told me to wait at least a month into the year before posting one of these pictures because it was a telltale sign of a freshman.
I saw it then, the high tower of Gasson beaming like a beacon of hope chiming “you’re not a loser freshman.” I picked up my pace, now having a direction. I was going to the beautiful building that was plastered on every brochure and pamphlet the Boston College passed out. I was going to the biggest landmark of the school, my school. I was going to Gasson.
