the best thing i did for myself as a pre-frosh by Veronica P. '27

The cherry blossoms are out and the students are slipping onto Kresge Lawn again, accompanied by instruments to strum and bubble teas to sip and soaking in the Boston sun on one of those early spring days where the warmth still feels like a tiny miracle. Campus is starting to resemble the campus I fell in love with, the one I encountered in this same state as a pre-frosh at Campus Preview Weekend.

I was one of those admits for whom CPW felt like a whirlwind of an experience, 3.14 days that whizzed by like a door violently swinging open on its hinges, revealing to me all the possible ways my life was capable of stretching and splitting and changing. Looking back, however, it was one of the most unassuming moments of the weekend that stuck with me the most.

I was alone and visiting this dorm, Burton Conner, for a free Thai food event. I loaded my plate, turned around, and was briefly catapulted into the classically mortifying high-school-cafeteria-where-on-earth-do-I-sit dilemma. Luckily, college orientations are funny in that they’re a lot like kindergarten, in that “everyone is a potential friend and everything is a friend-making opportunity” kind of way. So, I pushed down my fear and approached the table of people who, smiling and sporting thrifted clothing, struck me as friendly and cool (in the completely subjective, instinctive definition of the latter that everyone holds in their brain).

They immediately welcomed me, and if they weren’t so sweet I would have been way more embarrassed by the fact that not a single one of them was a pre-frosh. In a way, it was relieving— none of that pressure to ‘forge new bonds’ and make small talk. All of them clearly seemed to be good friends, so I was content to just sit back and watch the conversation bounce across the table. I laughed a few times, caught a couple of their names, and shyly excused myself once I had finished eating.

I didn’t think much of the half hour until a few weeks later, when it came time to rank my dorm preferences on the housing portal. I think something about that table’s close-knit, joyful energy had stuck with me. It was as if they served as living proof that it was possible to find your people at MIT. On a gut instinct, I ranked Burton Conner first, and eventually came to learn that the people I had met were part of the floor Burton One. They held a distinct passion for the color b1ue and referred to themselves as “the Boners⁠01 Burton One -> B-One -> Bone (but also, you can just tell we frown upon taking ourselves too seriously) .” Maybe the title should have given me pause, but honestly I didn’t even give it a second thought.  There were so many nuances about the community that mattered way more than that.

Flash forward about two years, and I’m one of our floor chairs. Not necessarily by choice— the election process did involve moderate amounts of chasing down the hallway and may have ended with me being dragged into our lounge with various seniors hoisting my limbs as I protested “NO NO NOOOOO”. 02 disclaimer: this was a playful edge case and not at all reflective of our general government process lol But that drama aside,  it still seems like every day I find a new reason to feel grateful for my split second decision to approach that table.

I feel it when I’m hiding in a dorm room with twenty people, all crowded around a blueberry cake and trying to stifle our laughter when we realize that the birthday girl we were trying to surprise at midnight has just turned on the shower next door.

I feel it when I’m counting down the ‘new year’ in the middle of March, because somehow we’ve all managed to fumble our resolutions so early into the year and could really use a second chance.

I feel it when we’re in our Associate Head of House’s hallway, lining the walls with tape art of her son’s favorite cartoon characters. People are making fun of me because I care way too much about getting the perfect perspective on my lego block.

I feel it when I’m trying to find a place to study between classes and I get a text announcing that it’s ‘romping’ weather. I know that if I walk past the student center I’ll find a group of us working on a picnic blanket, taking full advantage of the heat.

I feel it when I walk past the 32 kitchen and hear a makeshift band performing indie renditions while the not-so-musically-inclined prepare spring rolls.

Or when I come home to the 41 and see that the alignment chart is being updated, and 5 people are in a heated debate about whether one resident should be placed closer to “chiller” or “tweaker.” 03 for any wondering, there was absolutely no question that i was a tweaker

Or when I get a text that there’s pad thai in the 52, and one of our DJ’s is mixing on the dining table while everyone grabs a bite.

Or afterwards, when we migrate to the 33 because their raspberry brownies have just come out of the oven, shamelessly interrupting their Survivor watch party.

I feel it when we’re the loudest group in the crowd, lifting a comically large cardboard cutout of a b1ner’s face and cheering their name.

I feel it when I spot figures in blue morph-suits prancing around the Infinite, wordlessly handing out fliers to confused passerby to promote our next event (we take our annual theme ‘everyth1ng 1s b1ue’ quite literally.)

I feel it when I’m on retreat in Maine, sprinting towards the lake with a giant bowl as two b1ners frantically scoop water out of their rapidly sinking boat, unable to catch my breath because we can’t stop laughing as they try to stay afloat.

I feel it when I’m on a boat in Mexico, lying in the sun with a junior who feels more like an older sister to me, reflecting on how much we’ve seen each other grow since the spring break prior. The waves pass gently beneath us and we talk about loving ourselves. The music crescendos from the other end of the boat and we talk about our desire to experience every emotion to the fullest, good or bad, because what else could be the point of living?  But who knows, maybe next spring break our answer will change again.

It’s hard to find a moment where I don’t feel it, to tell the truth. If there’s only one advice I could give to incoming college freshman, it’s to find people you can come home to. Maybe they don’t literally live on your same floor, maybe they share your values in different ways, but you need a network that can support you through what you’re going through— people you can consistently rely on to accept you and look out for your best interests, to help make your load feel lighter. As B1 likes to put it: more than friends, not quite family. 

In my first ever meeting with my freshman advisor, he ended it on a question he asks all of his advisees: “Have you found your community here?” 

And yes, I most certainly had.

romping, ft. a mobile game addiction

retreat in maine

floor feast

beach day

our last campus wide party

spring break in playa del carmen

big stick

the blue people in question

snow silliness

another beach day

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