Observations

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Another 7:00 alarm promptly goes off.
And I promptly slap my phone located next to my bed and turn it off.
Slowly I slide out from under my warm cocoon, and find the clothes I had laid out the night before (because clearly early mornings are not the best times to cordinate an outfit). I stumble to the mirror and attempt to put makeup on and throw my hair in a half decent ponytail. Thankfully, I have stocked up on mini bottles of orange juice and so I quickly grab a bottle from my mini fridge and head out the door.
As I walk down the hall and head out the larger door on the outside of my dorm, I see two people sitting on the steps in front of me. Their bodies clumped together in the middle of the stairway, exactly where I needed to walk. I mumbled a "scuse me" and climbed my way around them. Glancing back I doubt they even noticed that I had passed. They looked too preoccupied, staring lovingly at each other with eyes tucked behind glasses, messy brown hair, and oversized sweatshirts.
As I walk to class I think about all the awkward couples I have seen over the years, particularly ones here on campus. They seem to lurk around every dark hidden corner, or on the opposite end of the spectrum, stand in the middle of a walkway without any care about the mass amounts of people around them watching their PDA.
I question what exactly makes a couple an "awkward couple". Is it the appearances of the individuals? Or maybe the location or actions of the couple?
These thoughts never used to cross my mind. But now I have a boyfriend, and I still hope to God that we are not, nor ever will be one of those awkward couples sitting in the middle of a stairway at 7:30 in the morning.

Getting familiar.

Walking down the hall in my dorm is second nature to me. I pass the same wooden doors pretty much daily, seeing the familiar white name tags beside them. And even as I walk into the bathroom, my feet walk on the same stonework, the room filled with the same familiar glow, I think about nothing. Yet it is in this setting that I once experienced "newness". 

It was just a year ago that I visited my best friend who lived on this same hall. Except a year ago, walking on this hall had a totally different feel to it. Even the bathroom felt new, almost luxurious. Kind of like a hotel, an unfamiliar space not yet adjusted to, or a new car with that special scent that eventually fades away after being driven numerous times. 

As I glance down my hall, my mind wanders to how many times in our life we experience that "new" feeling. Some, seek out that feeling and constantly travel to foreign places. Or buy new blouses, or jeans, or purses that at first have that exciting feel to them, until they are grown out of. Or go out of trend. 

I think back to my childhood, how often my parents reveled at my "newness". My first step, my first word. Then growing up, my first boyfriend, car, and job. Does this "new" feeling slow down as we get older? Is that why growing older seems so depressing to some people? 

As I open the door back to my room, and jump onto my raised bed (that often needs a running start to get onto) I realize that this hall, the bathroom, this dorm room, have become my own. No longer do they belong to my best friend as part of her life. And I know next year I will move out of my room, and both myself, and the person who moves into my former room will experience that new feeling once again.