The first 30

The tours of the college (U of T is divided into seven undergraduate colleges; I’m at Trinity) hint at what life in residence will look like. And it looks a bit like a cult. At any rate, it’s certainly an alternate version of reality. When hundreds of 18-year-olds move away from home, to a strange city, with strange people and strange customs, equally strange social dynamics are bound to develop. The aforementioned bubble begins to surround the campus and the few blocks surrounding it. With such an inundation of new people, experiences and, yes, work, there’s not much incentive, let alone time, to explore beyond the bubble—even when you’re in the heart of a great city like Toronto.

I also met my roommate on move-in day—another otherworldly experience, meeting a stranger with whom you’ll be living for a year. In my case, he’s much older than I, which makes things even more unusual. Having a roommate really tests your maturity and your ability to relate to someone different from you. In your first year of university, maturity is often hard to come by, so the challenge of living with someone can provide a reality check, helping to balance out the madness.

The end of the beginning

Sept. 9: The whirlwind that is Frosh Week (variously called Orientation Week, First Week, etc.) is now officially over. It was certainly interesting: meeting dozens of people every day, partying every night till at least 3 a.m. (Or sometimes 6 a.m.)

Initial awkwardness gradually warmed to tepid familiarity, and was even heated to boisterous enthusiasm on those rare occasions when the drinks began to flow—responsibly and moderately, of course. Other than the incessant socializing, I signed up for about 10 different clubs, from debate to intramural soccer; learned the requisite school cheers; and attended countless orientations and tours. This week is a great opportunity to meet people and to relax and have fun before classes start.

The beginning of the end?

Sept. 20: My idealism is certainly being challenged, if not completely redefined. Other than excessive drinking, university campuses seem very conducive to philosophical discussions (a strange combination, I know). I’ve been finding myself in a lot of them lately.

Debates concerning the nature of altruism lead me to believe it doesn’t exist but that it doesn’t matter anyway. Environmental arguments for limits to growth are trumped by the technology-will-fix-everything stance, supported by pointing to how far our technology has progressed even in the past 100 years, allowing us to use resources more efficiently than ever imagined in the early 20th century. A desire to narrow the gap between rich and poor is challenged by a conviction that there will always be relative poverty in a capitalist system, and that our goal should be simply to raise the standard of living for everyone as a whole.

A further challenge to this idealistic desire for egalitarianism comes in the simple fact that if everyone lived as we did in Canada, we would need four planets! And considering the fact that even my introductory economics textbook insists that individuals are motivated almost exclusively by self-interest, it doesn’t seem likely that we will be giving anything up in the name of selflessness.