Saved quarters, themed parties and other recollections

When I arrived at Pitt, I wasn’t fresh-faced or entirely innocent of college life.

Growing… When I arrived at Pitt, I wasn’t fresh-faced or entirely innocent of college life.

Growing up in Washington, D.C., and going to a high school located in the middle of George Washington University’s frat row, I had most of my naivete squeezed out of me. This is not to say I was not naive of certain things — I knew little about the actual mechanics of college.

So, when I say to be prepared for a jolt, I mean it. College is different, different from home life, high school life and family life. It’s different in terms of the grand schema and the minutiae. Everything changes, including you, which may be the hardest thing to accept.

I tried to think of what I wanted someone to tell me before I began freshman year. Obviously, a shove in the right direction helps, and even dispensers of bad advice can hold some truth. After much thought — I had a cup of coffee — I arrived at two conclusions. My advice for freshmen is: 1. Save your quarters, and 2. Be an involved skeptic.

Quarters are essential for copiers, laundry and soda, three invaluable nutrients for a successful college career. I cannot overemphasize how much laundry people can produce. As a clothing collector — read: pack rat — I generate more laundry than most small countries. Luxembourg called asking for advice, and I told them to buy many rolls of quarters.

Take-a-pennies are there for a reason. As a former cashier and current laundry kingpin, rounding off change to the nearest quarter saves time and will prove useful. This might seem minor compared to the enormous task of escaping from college, limbs intact, but if there’s anything that can save an appendage, it’s a ready supply of quarters.

On to the second, and more important, part of my two-point plan.

I will pass on the wisdom imparted on me by my pagan elementary school librarian, Salome. As she put it, “Nobody should be just an observer or just an activist; instead, be some combination of the two.”

Although she was discussing political issues, this advice is universal. Those who condemn themselves to observing life will be stuck watching, rather than experiencing it. Those who act without reflection are lost, with no hope of guidance.

Before I dive into anything — classes, student organizations or a marathon of Dragon Warrior — I force myself to observe, to process and to hold off on impetuous decisions. This might take several weeks — as did my decision to join The Pitt News — or several seconds — as did my decision, one night, to go puddle jumping at 3 a.m.

When I started at Pitt, I wanted to experience everything: classes, goat cheese, Australian-rules rugby. It seemed everything was offered, nothing barred. I was impatient. The world was mine, damn it, and I wanted it all.

I didn’t get it all, of course. Instead, life proceeded much like a grazing cow, munching and oblivious to my orders for it to move. Whatever desire I had, at 17, to rule the world was extinguished, but not in one climactic scene.

I wish I could say that there was some epiphany, some catastrophic event that led to my realization that I had to mete out experience, to observe as much as I acted. It may seem strange to tell people to hold back, to savor and reflect; it may even seem world-weary and parent-ish, but it’s what I’ve learned.

People tell me that these are the best years of life, to experience everything while I can. I tend to ask them if they forgot their medication. College is about experience, sure, but so is everything else. And, in this context, “experience” seems to be referring to drinking and “best years” to sex. I like both, but am not paying tuition for either.

I learned this after attending my first frat party. It had a 1980s theme, which my friend and I took to mean Sex Pistols shirts and spiky, punk hair. When we arrived, and were pressed into a crowd of people paired off based on texture — given that the lights were low and the sound was high enough to bar appearance and speech as mating criteria — we looked at each other and decided to leave.

We spent the rest of the time hanging out sans booze or boys. It was an experience, but a quiet one, one probably not lumped with what people call “the best years of your life.”

Most people spend their whole lives figuring out what it means to be a responsible, compassionate, intelligent human being. At 20, I have just started, though I am wiser than the 17-year-old who left her parents’ house.

Wisdom should come from experience, though not every experience has made me wiser. For instance, I learned more from puddle jumping than I did from a semester of Intro to Mythology.

The experiences I had freshman year are irreproducible. I had to go through them and learn from them. No one could tell me what they meant at the time or would come to mean three years later.

So, go forth and experience what Pitt has to offer, but do it on your own time. Ignore the Nike motto. Don’t be afraid to question, to think, to stop and reflect. Take the time to determine who to trust, who to listen to and who to ignore. Be an observer, an activist and anything else you want.

And don’t forget your quarters.

Sydney Bergman can be reached at sbergman@pittnews.com.