Cooking my own meals is an art that I have yet to master. As an uncoordinated 10-year-old in a 21-year-old’s lifestyle, I find it hard to prepare grilled cheese without setting off the fire alarm at home. And paying bills? Please. I’ll do that when my student loans come due. That’s why I prefer a place to call my own that comes all utilities (and meals) included. My residence hall.

That’s right. I am a senior who is still living in the University system. I’ve got a nice place, a warm bed and all the bandwidth my nerdy little self can suck down from the Internet. While it may be a bit odd for some, I’ve found that the convenient services provided by the staff make all the difference in the world when I’m tired and hungry.

My friends (the smart ones who got their own house) have spent countless afternoons and evenings over the past two years wandering the campus, looking for any scrap of nourishment to feed themselves. Most of the time, it’s not even food they’re seeking, it’s a clean cup or plate. Dishes are, apparently, a lost art.

I don’t blame people for wanting to grow up and leave the residence halls – it’s a lifestyle that greatly limits the average social butterfly. To date, I’ve only ever thrown one party at my place, and that wasn’t suited to the Chambana house party lifestyle at all. Instead, I’ve had the opportunity to take on extra responsibility (and a few great perks) as a resident advisor.

The resident advisor life is one of late nights, early mornings, the stupidity of others and a great deal of paperwork. It is thankless, tireless and absolutely without sense some times … but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

There is something about the amount of growing up you do when you’re dealing with the 18-year-old who drank too much or the 21-year-old who won’t talk to his roommate about terrible body odor that makes you realize that it’s a funny, terrible world out there. It makes you thankful for the people who looked out for you.

I couldn’t imagine life in a house or apartment, knowing that, should I need backup, I don’t have an eight-person fighting force just one phone call away. I love the people, the space and even the food. I know it sounds lame, but residence hall life is definitely for me.