“If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around, what would Berkeley say about whether or not it makes any noise?”
I raise my hand to answer my philosophy professor’s question.
“I think that the ground would still shake, and there would still be sound waves from the fall, but if no one is there to perceive them, then there would be no actual sound.”
“Okay, but Berkeley says everything has to be based on perception, so that doesn’t work for him.”
I shrug my shoulders as he moves on to another hand in the air.
“It worked for me, I liked that a lot,” my roommate Amanda whispers from the seat next to me as she browses for Oktoberfest Dirndls on her laptop.
What a great girl. So sweet. Much love. Except for when we hate each other. Based off what I just said, you might think that she doesn’t know about this blog, but she totally does, and she’s going to read it. Because I love her so much.
How to explain my roommates? We love the shit out of each other, so much so that we constantly want to kill each other. Last week, Amanda was hyped and delirious from caffeine, and amidst both of our hysterics, she proceeded to trip slightly and drop her large coffee all over the sidewalk. I expressed how happy I was that it happened. She threatened to "accidentally" push me in front of a Tram. I told her she was psychotic. And then we started discussing where we wanted to go get dinner together. This is just the dynamic of our whole house. We all function well together though, because although we give each other no respect, we smother each other with love and affection. We really root for one another, except when we are threatening to put someone’s head through the wall.
I tried to explain this to my parents on the phone, amidst my laughter. They were slightly confused at first. “Wait— you don’t mean you hate each other as in like, ‘fucker, get your hands off my lunch meat, right?” my mom asked. I told her I couldn’t have come up with a better example myself. She wanted a blog post about it, pronto. :)
But that’s the best part. We don’t tip toe around each other like new roommates tend to do. We warmed up to each other extremely fast, but we didn’t overdo it and get trapped in a roommate complex of always questioning how to confront every new situation. If the housekeeper is coming and the place is a mess, we get on each other to clean. If someone’s being obnoxiously loud, we tell them to shut up. And if someone accomplishes something awesome, we bow and worship and adore.
It’s not a hostile environment whatsoever, despite description. We’re almost always in fits of laughter that are actually too loud for our apartment complex. Usually we're all in one room, just catching up after classes, doing homework, getting ready to go out, or planning our next trip. And if we’re not doing any of those things, we’re probably sleeping or eating. Or, we’re betting each other with Odds. We make absolutely too many life decisions with Odds, and it’s almost unhealthy. In fact, some of them, by nature, are truly not good for one’s health, but the stories make up for it.
I can’t really imagine this apartment any other way, or with any different girls. I love hearing Julia shout “Dobry den, bitches!” every time she walks through the front door. I love that Juliann tries to have pool parties in our bathtub. I hate that Amanda takes 12 years to get ready for anything at all in this world, but she’s STILL AN ANGEL. I love when Steph looks at me from her bed and whispers “I want chocolate,” knowing that I’ll drop what I’m doing and go with her to the mini mart. And I love when Maddie whips out Midwestern idioms that make us question if she's actually speaking English. I truly just love it all here in Prague.
Back row, left to right: Maddie, me, Juliann, Amanda
Front row, left to right: Stephanie, Julia