As I sit perched on top of the hard, stained couches in our roach-infested dorm, I can't help but smile. The Yuengling bottles sitting on the windowsill and stuffed garbage cans reeking of pizza are the remains from the previous night. My mom would crack up at the sight of me sitting perfectly content in the middle of this mess. In college I would have been miserable with this living situation. But when I got home from the lab last night at about 10, I grabbed one of Pat's Pabst Blue Ribbons and joined the conversation outside my dorm.

I can relate to people here in a way I wasn't able to with people in college. For me, college was a place of disconnection. After the excitement of living away from home for the first time and having no rules wore off, I was disappointed. Maybe I grew up too fast. Maybe it was because I went to one of the biggest "party schools" in the nation, but unlike so many people at Ohio University, I had very little desire to sit in a bar every Friday night, getting as drunk as possible and waking up the next morning with another notch in the bedpost.

I was disgusted by the mentality that enabled people to not only accept, but expect this lifestyle, not to mention the furniture spotted with mysterious stains found in almost every house surrounding campus. I didn't want to become comfortable with walking into a bathroom and interrupting people doing lines off of a toilet seat. I also didn't want to spend all of my time in the computer lab with people who had personalities only compatible with the software they were working with. Don't get me wrong. I gave these people a shot, but I couldn't force myself to enjoy to something that I just didn't. And so I turned myself off.

I filled my days the last three years of college by drowning myself in work. I made myself believe that no one was really worth my time. Instead of being sad about not finding people I really enjoyed spending time with, I convinced myself I didn't need them. I spent a lot of time convincing my family, too.

Phone conversations with my mom went something like this:

"What's wrong, babe?" she would say. "I'm worried about you. You used to be so social. You have never had a problem making friends."

"I don't know, Mom. I'm so over this. I'm fine, though. I'm so busy. I can't imagine making time for going out anyway. "

I remember walking up to the check-in counter outside of the convention center on graduation day. I couldn't have been less emotional. I scanned the parking lot for my visual communications pals. They are probably still at the Cat's Eye, I thought. They wanted a send off with a few beers before the official cap and gown affair. I declined the invite.

Annoyed with my tassel, I fidgeted in line, occasionally yawning and thinking how weird it was that I was indifferent about never seeing most of these people again. I had prepared to leave Athens, Ohio, for the last month, but had been looking forward to it for about three years.

"You'll miss this one of these days, Cara," said Lauren, the one person who I would actually stay in touch with. I faked a smile and nodded, but I knew she was wrong. There was no way I would miss this place.

I didn't expect Poynter to be anything more than a career booster. I thought that moving into a dorm would be similar to college life. However, after reading some of the fellows' bios, I was optimistic this experience would be more meaningful than college. And it was.

It has been refreshing to have conversations that inspire respect and admiration for people rather than pity for their ignorance. Instead of hearing some recent college grad whine about not being happy in his job and doing nothing about it, JD is talking about how he ditched the corporate world to pursue something he believes in. Rather than being passive or indecisive, Monique took the way her story could affect someone's life seriously and handled it with concern. As opposed to putting on a front like people so often do, Erika was willing to let her guard down on the first week and show us how deeply a prejudice comment affected her. Instead of the cliched poster of Bob Marley smoking a joint, Liam keeps a print of Goya's "Saturn Eating His Children" that reminds him that if you don't take charge of your time, then you will go to waste. Elie is excited to promote an organization that counsels abused Rwandan women. Thank God the days of overhearing girls giggling about whom they hooked up with on spring break are over.

For the past six weeks I have been surrounded by a collectively creative, cultured and intelligent group of people that I can relate to. Someone always has insight to offer, whether we are talking about various facets of design or cultural differences among societies. The fact that they have invested an interest in these things reassures me that I am not weird, as I often felt in college. It inspires me to keep doing what I'm doing. I like being around these people, because as a whole, they represent the type of person I want to be.

Feeling a part of this group made me realize how alienated I was in college. Prior to Poynter I wasn't aware of how hard I shut the door to the possibility of connecting with a group of people, developing a new friendship or even a romantic relationship.

And now, I'm graduating from a six-week program with more than I can say from four years of college: a new best friend and several dedicated and talented colleagues. And this time, without the fake smile.

Back to "Northeast" | Back to "On the Beat" | Back to the Poynter Summer Fellows main page