Dear fellow student, how far did you travel to get to your UWS campus today? ?How many trains and busses did you commute between? How many times did the harsh bleep of your speed monitor jolt you from micro-sleep as it recognised you merging onto yet another highway? ?Myself? Well, I didn’t leave campus. No, I was not accidentally locked away in the back of BB.G.13 after falling into a deep sleep during the last lecture of the day (though I do admit, that scenario is completely plausible). But actually, I live here. Not squatting in an unused storage area, but in an actual house, in the mystical miniature on-campus village known as the Kingswood Student Residence. (‘Res’, as it is fondly referred to by its consonant-cutting inhabitants.) ?Now, the mere mention of a ‘university student residence’ is likely to summon explicit mental images from obscene American college movies… That’s a little extreme you guys. ?Or is it? The social culture here does have a strong relationship with an appetite to par-tay, share a beverage or twelve, intense inside jokes and even the odd love triangle. However you won’t see a keg and a sea overflowing red plastic tumblers – more likely varieties of the best boxed wine Woolworths Liquor has on special that week, perhaps slugged from the first coffee mug procured from the cupboard or downed straight from the shining metallic bladder its self.

But there’s much more to the ‘res’ picture than nights of communal intoxication and mornings of sore heads and maccas runs. These celebrations are temporary releases from the daily toil of attending uni, completing assignments, keeping a job (or perhaps a centrelink appointment), and other exciting activities that come with living out of home like preparing your own meals and perhaps doing some laundry once in a blue moon.

Housemates – these daunting strangers soon become people you can comfortably by-pass in the hallway, scantily clad in nothing but a towel as you roam back to your room from a lengthy shower. Perhaps even feel comfortable enough to stop for a polite half-naked conversation, euphoric with the knowledge that your overall fort-nightly rent payment remains constant, indiscriminate of hot water and electricity use. However, your housemate may not be as joyous about your forty-five minute rinse (give or take) when they are running late for work and have been anxiously waiting to bathe off the spilt beverages from last nights’ impromptu party while you’ve been carefully shaving your armpits. ?Take note, also, that no matter how many times you run into them with your private areas barely covered up by terry-cloth – it will NEVER not be awkward to bump into a house cleaner, electrician, plumber, or any other member of the services and repairs task-squad on your way out of the shower. While we appreciate and value the roles these fine upstanding people play in keeping us from living in complete squalor, being stopped for a conversation about the collapsing shower-head while (still dripping) you are attempting to back slowly towards your bedroom, is exceedingly uncomfortable.

‘FML’ moments aside, living here has been the most enriching part of my uni experience. (Not to mention travelling excess of 3 hours from my hometown to Kingswood Campus would be a bit of a drag.) And what has made this so enjoyable is the approachability of so many of the people here. The first day I arrived on the residence interesting people were walking up and introducing themselves to me from all angles. The very next day was my introductory lecture to my course; I was not met with quite the same enthusiasm. The attitude was, and continues to be, a little more introverted, more solitary. Everyone peering out of the trendy outfits they mentally planned the day ahead, not being sure whether they can restimulate conversation with that person they sat next to in their tute last semester or the shuttle bus just yesterday. So heed my advice university crowd, be approachable, and approach people (I’m talking about conversation here, no need for acts of sexual harassment). Do it – because I know I’m scared shitless to.

Sincerely,

Alannah Maher
Resident correspondent