Falling in Love with Gasson

First day of college. First college classes. First day of the rest of my life. The typical teenage movie thoughts were running through my mind as I, a little too eagerly, turned off my alarm, climbed down from bed, and proceeded directly to the bathroom. I was that girl who greeted everyone with a loud and overly enthusiastic “good morning.” In a hall of freshmen who definitely were not morning people, I paid no attention to their scowls and greeted each girl with a bright smile as she slumped to her shower caddie. This was just one of the many naive things I would do all throughout the day.

I finished my morning bathroom routine, heating each strand of hair to a crisp until it was poker straight and applying as much eyeliner as a mature college girl should wear. No more of that inch-thick layer of make-up that immature high school girls wore. I was an adult and adults wore just a thin line.

I would say that picking out my outfit was tough but I had been planning my first day of class outfit since I registered for class two months prior. It was warm out, still summery, with a fall-is-just-around-the-corner breeze. I put on a tight blue skirt and flowing white short-sleeved top: the perfect combination of sexy and mature. After all, I could be meeting my future husband today. I would want him to look back on that moment he saw me walk into our lit class in that beautiful outfit.

I now have come to realize boys could care less what you are wearing, but Freshman Me thought this was the greatest idea. So off to breakfast mature-and-sexy me went. Another naive idea was that I would actually have time for breakfast each morning.

It wasn’t until I finished my banana and yogurt (naively trying to avoid the freshmen 15) that I realized I had no idea where the building for my first class was. Great I’m going to be one of those freshman who has to ask where to go. The loser. I refused to be that person. Gasson was the pretty building everyone took pictures of, so it had to be easy to find. I could blend in here, fit in, not stand out as a total freshie.

I embarked on my journey out of the dining hall to find the mysterious Gasson. I walked in line behind the busy moving students. For a moment it felt like I was walking the streets of New York instead of Boston College. I remembered Gasson vaguely from my tour. This is Gasson Hall, a classroom building but also home of a statue the Vatican has been trying to get its hands on for years. From orientation I knew this was the building everyone Instagrammed “#gassongram,” and my orientation leader told me to wait at least a month into the year before posting one of these pictures because it was a telltale sign of a freshman.

I saw it then, the high tower of Gasson beaming like a beacon of hope chiming “you’re not a loser freshman.” I picked up my pace, now having a direction. I was going to the beautiful building that was plastered on every brochure and pamphlet the Boston College passed out. I was going to the biggest landmark of the school, my school. I was going to Gasson.