Although the administration has decided to get rid of the traditions that separate Knox from all the other halls, I have ultimately enjoyed my time there and have formed friendships with a wonderful bunch of people. However, it is only now that I have realised the problem with staying at a residential hall for two years. We become attuned with how to live in a hall rather than how to live on our own. The routine and rules of a hall become our safety net. We don’t fret over bills because there’s only one we have to pay (subject to change depending on punishments and thus, how many New World vouchers you are forced to overload the OUSA foodbank with). We don’t clean our own sheets because it’s all done for us; we don’t worry about being too cold because we can recklessly leave our heaters on for several hours with no repercussions; and we don’t have to prepare our own meals. Our lives are probably easier than it was when we lived at home with our parents.
The prospect of flatting and flat hunting excites us. It’s something new to look forward to and a rite of passage for most university students. As I reflect on my emotions prior to flat hunting, I realise that I was looking forward to the freedom of living in a flat and having a place to call my own. I didn’t actually acknowledge the process of finding a flat or comprehend that it can be quite a tiring task. Sifting through realty websites, visiting houses, writing up applications, paying for bonds and bills – these things weren’t on the forefront of my mind until the story of flat hunting came to life.
Chapter one:
The talk (the non-sex one.)In residential halls, talk spreads like wildfire. Mainly this talk is of meaningless hook-ups and the Scarfie antics people get up to, but there is a time when the talk turns to the topic of flatting. When the first flat group is formed, the match is lit and the rat race begins.
For me, the flatting frenzy took place in May. Yes, that early. This frenzy occurred amongst people who had no desire for the infamous streets of Castle, Leith and Hyde. Breakfast, lunch and dinner chat consisted of who was flatting with whom and how “Queen Street will be Knox but on one whole street!” Once again, the idea of living at a makeshift hall just couldn’t be shaken off. Hall life seems ingrained in our minds, no matter how different the living arrangements are. The desire to incorporate our safety net continues to take place, even in 2015. I do have to admit though, I’m really looking forward to living close to my friends. What I don’t like is the lack of development it gives us if we remain in this state of mind. Generally, you don’t live in a house with two hundred people nor do you have one bathroom with five showers and three toilets in it. Generally. While living in a hall gives you many experiences to meet new people, it can also confine you.
Chapter two:
The fear sinks in.It took me a long time to actually jump on the flat group bandwagon. I hadn’t thought too much about the people I wanted to live with and I had made little effort to tell people that I would be interested in flatting with them. Organising a flat group in May just seemed irrelevant to me. I don’t even plan what I eat for lunch (hall perks) so planning my flat was clearly not on my agenda. Despite my laid-back (more like lazy) attitude, I’m a worrier. Even when I’m not worried, people think I’m worried and when I’m actually worrying, they think I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. From a psychological point of view, my tendency to worry probably first occurred when I was 7. I put tinfoil in the microwave and set my prawn-fried rice on fire. However, primary school had trained me well and I managed to save the day. Unfortunately, I couldn’t eat the prawn-fried rice. It was soaked in water and I had to opt for toast instead. RIP prawn-fried rice. Ever since then, I’ve always been a little on edge.
As the number of flat groups increased, the faster my heart began to palpitate. It would have been rude of me to include myself in a group. And, although there were people who had asked me, I was so hesitant in May to give them a set-in-stone answer that I had been replaced with someone who was definite and eager to immediately find a flat. I became scared, which I really didn’t need to be. And when the fear hit me, I scrambled to piece together a group, just for the false sense of security of having one.
Now that I look back on it, I wish I had paid more attention to my laptop’s desktop background. After all, it has been my background for most of the year. The picture is one of Ezra Koenig’s wise tweets about going to the gym. He states: “exercise makes me sweaty, fuks up my hair and makes my face blotchy & red. the idea that it will improve my well-being is...absurd [sic].” As an English and Communication Studies major, I feel like there’s great depth to what he has to say and it must be analysed. To me, Koenig’s theory (yes, theory) suggests that we sweat (literally and figuratively) over the small, insignificant details in life that, by the end of it all, we wonder if labouring over it was worth the outcome. I didn’t initially imagine Koenig’s tweet to be applicable to my flat hunting experience, but his theory? Definitely applicable, and if something makes you sweaty, fuks up your hair, makes your face blotchy and red…it’s not worth it.
Chapter three:
The scramble.Feeling the pressure of being “homeless,” I found myself running around like a headless chicken pecking at other strays in the hopes that we could form some kind of group. I remember telling two friends about the people I was flatting with and having them laugh at how mismatched we were: a hippie living with a Bible lover? Interesting. In my eyes, it would make for a good modern rendition of Romeo and Juliet. Like the part where almost everyone dies because during the flat hunting process, every member at one point or another wanted to kill each other. (All contemplations of this were done with the eyes; I saw it myself! Until I died, of course.)
When people ask my old group why we didn’t work out, they always give the politically correct answer of “oh, we all just wanted different things.” While this is partially true, the reality was this: the people in my group were stingy, over critical and obsessed with quirky rather than practical. And when the flat hunt began, Murphy’s Law began to take place.
Chapter four:
The beginning of the end.I didn’t realise how much effort and time flat hunting takes. When everyone finally begins their search for flats, the novelty of the hunt quickly begins to wear off and reality sinks in. The start of semester two saw an increase in distressed conversations, glum faces, stories of “we didn’t get our flat.”
For many flat groups, the best way to keep up to date with their flat hunt is by creating a Facebook group. Incorrectly naming the Facebook group, “fun in the sun flatties!” and sifting through what felt like thousands of flats, I could feel myself getting exhausted from merely copy and pasting links. Early on, you can see who makes an effort by how often they comment and how many links they post. Though I was certainly caught off guard when the time came to go and visit these flats.
One five-seat car with a group of six people is a recipe for discomfort and squats. It only took two journeys before two of us decided to call it quits. What seemed like a fun adventure quickly turned sour as conversations became heated. The people who had the least to offer or say over Facebook appeared to be the most critical and overnight; they had become Dunedin flat connoisseurs. Other members of the group became so aggressively insistent over particular flats for their price rather than their quality while others were unhelpful through their passivity.
There never seemed to be a unanimous decision or love for one flat and when it came time to send in applications I found myself applying for a flat I was not impressed with. Yes, it ticked off quirky and cheap and, as students, I know that our wallets aren’t exactly filled to the brim with cash. However, it’s all too often that cheaper flats in Dunedin come with complimentary illnesses. A flat with character is always exciting and all the rage but if the house is leaky, mouldy or damp (which the one we looked at was) that’s not raging with me; I felt as though it was time for me to reassess my flatting situation. OUSA gives great tips on how to stop Aunty Mildew from moving in, but before that even happens I feel as though the best thing would be to try to avoid these types of flats completely – unless you’ve got time for Asthma, longer lasting colds and Bronchitis, of course. I know this is an old joke, so please forgive me, but I can tell you that Sweet Brown definitely doesn’t have time for that!
When R, the most reasonable and sane member of the group, decided that it wasn’t worth applying for a house with people she wasn’t particularly close to, it raised a lot of questions for me. If we’re fighting now, what will it be like living with this group of people? Am I willing to apply and pay for a flat I know I won’t be happy in? After tossing and turning, I finally decided that it would be best if I left the group.
Chapter five:
The aftermath.When I let the group know that I wouldn’t be flatting with them anymore, everything felt better. Sure, I was back to being “homeless” but, at the same time, I finally took notice of something that I should have thought more about really early on. Dunedin is always going to have an abundance of flats and there are always going to be people looking for flatmates. Facebook groups such as Dunedin Flatmates Wanted have people posting everyday looking for someone to fill a bedroom or join their flat group. While the prospect of flatting with strangers can be unnerving, it’s also an opportunity to form new friendships and for you to get out of your hall bubble – one that most of your current friends are in.
The day after I left my flat group, I began to look for alternatives. While I initially thought it would be odd of me to invite myself into a group, I decided to uncharacteristically take a risk and text someone I had met once. I had heard from a mutual friend that she was looking for flatmates and having visited the flat below hers, I knew that it was in a nice location and was mould free. By the afternoon, I had miraculously found a place to live in and, while my first experience took an agonising two weeks, my new flat hunt only took 7 hours.
Was it fate? Was I meant to endure a bad flat hunting experience before I had a good one? Was the fault in my stars no longer in my stars? Was John Green wrong? Was Shakespeare right? These were the strange questions that circled in my mind. The answer? Koenig’s theory. It was when I didn’t sweat the little things that my flatting situation cohesively came together. Ezra Koenig doesn’t need exercise to be devastatingly handsome and healthy; and I didn’t need to fret as much as I did over who and where I would be flatting with in 2015.
Chapter six:
Food for thought.The following week I met my future flatmates and I’m looking forward to what 2015 brings. I also brought over food, which might have been the reason our first official meeting went well. As I reflected on my rollercoaster ride of a flat hunt and how I landed myself in a flat with strangers, I couldn’t help but think that maybe it’s sometimes better not to flat with your friends.
My departure from the first flat group resulted in the disintegration of a few friendships, as the experience made me realise that the basis of our friendship was based on living circumstances. We all lived in the same hall and that was it. As people and potential flatmates, we’re just not compatible and, while it is a shame, it’s something that simply happened. Flat hunting not only teaches you a lot about yourself, it teaches you a lot about others. While some friends can easily live with one another, I think that to keep other friendships intact, you need to consider if you can honestly live with them. Your flaws and their flaws cannot be overlooked, especially when it’s within the same walls for an entire year.