Michael Vondriska: Always room for the Red and Blue

I don't own anything.

I came to this revelation the other day as I looked around my apartment, preparing to pack up my belongings and ship them to my new home in New York.

But the television belongs to my perennial roommate, J.P.

The couch is Shalmalee's, the stereo Ailea's, and the kitchen table is on loan from Stacy. The only things that are mine are a few fake plants my mother brought to liven up our dreary Baltimore Avenue apartment.

My 10-foot by 10-foot bedroom doesn't contain too much either. There is a bed, dresser and a desk that I never used, all of which has already been sold to the new tenants. My laptop and printer have been long forgotten since all my papers and projects were done on the Macs in the Daily Pennsylvanian's office. And there is a closet full of clothing, housing many articles that don't even fit anymore.

In a month, all of the hand-me-down pieces of furniture will give way to new ones, purchased in a new city from new stores. They won't be much, but they'll be mine, and mine alone, for the first time.

Looking around, I realize that as I pack up these physical belongings into boxes, it seems that, at the same time, everything else in my life has also begun to be packed away in differing ways.

My friends, with their boxes all packed, are ready to go their separate ways.

Some are heading to law or medical school, others to banks, consulting firms and newspaper offices. A few others just plan to take it one day at a time.

Not such a bad plan, huh?

Some memories of these important individuals are packed into photographs, old ticket stubs, cards and letters. The best, however, are saved in my mind -- to be recovered at random moments sometime down the road.

The mounds of books on my shelves tell a tale of my education, but these books will inevitably wind up on bookshelves in a new home, simply to impress visitors.

Courses on Finance, Accounting, History, Art and Communications taught me a great deal. Still, the true learning during these past years came from those late-night discussions with roommates about race, philosophy and life in general. Those sessions happened frequently freshman year, and I thankfully rediscovered them senior year.

Personal growth, for me especially, came from four years at the DP, taking a naive freshman and turning him into a mature individual. I'm not a management guru, but at least now I won't hesitate to throw myself into the fire for fear of getting burned.

It took me a long time to figure out who I am. And I know that I still haven't figured it all out. But as I continue to move on to bigger things, I'll be sure to pack away good experiences and memories from wherever I go.

I guess that's why, despite all of this growth, some things haven't changed since I left St. Louis four years ago. I still laugh all of the time -- when I'm happy, nervous or simply confused as to what emotion to display.

I am still a very sensitive person, and I take things personally, perhaps a little too personally sometimes.

These traits are still present despite some changes in my personal appearance. I now use hair gel, addressing the mop that used to be my standard coiffure. And out of the closet came a wardrobe comprised of Eddie Bauer, replaced with new duds from Banana Republic.

Despite these changes, however, there's still a lot of the dorky Midwestern high school kid in this sophisticated, Ivy League graduate.

In a few days, though, everything will be packed -- clothes, books, friends, memories and my undergraduate education. But they won't stay that way for long.

Whenever I want, I can unpack all of these things -- whether I need comfort, help or just a good laugh. Wherever I go, the Red and the Blue -- and all that it meant to me -- will always have a permanent place packed away in my heart.

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