Like many Boston College students, I am a creature of habit. I blast music in the communal showers, always reach for the same pair of jeans, and drink my coffee with a splash of milk and one Splenda. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on habits—specifically, my bad ones.
When I’m stressed, I forget to answer texts. When I find a class easy, I get too comfortable and procrastinate until I’m behind. When my workload gets heavy, my roommates can read my stress in the mutilated state of my nails. Once bad habits form, they are hard to break.
The same goes for my routines. Waking up 15 minutes before class, eating dinner at 7:30 p.m., and going to bed after midnight have become part of my DNA. It’s funny—I’ve always associated the word “routine” with punctuality and productivity. When someone mentions they have a routine, I am automatically a little impressed by them. I assume they must wake up early, go to the gym, and get their work done on time—they must have their life together.
That’s not a fair assumption, though. A routine is, by definition, “a fixed program.” Your routine could be skipping class and sleeping all day. As long as you’re consistent, you have yourself a routine. When it comes to unproductive routines, I am guilty of a few.
Last semester, I took a 9 a.m. music class. I was consistently two minutes late, I’ll admit. Whether that was due to Lyons Hall’s sluggish elevator or my complete lack of urgency anytime that early is up for debate.
All my fellow tardy people know the dreaded feeling of walking in late. Everyone stares at you, and you’re hit with a wave of guilt for interrupting the professor. There’s only one thing that lessens the guilt: When someone else in the class walks in late with you.
As I waited what felt like an eternity for the Lyons elevator, I was rarely alone. Like clockwork, a senior (seemingly an athlete) from my class would step into the elevator next to me, and we’d ride to the fourth floor in shared silence, both of us acknowledging our tardiness without saying a word. After it happened a few times, it became one of my favorite bad habits. The few times I arrived early, I had no doubt he felt betrayed.
One of the last times we rode the elevator at 9:01 together, he gave me a nod and said, “It’s been real.” Since then, he has been a familiar face on campus, always offering a nod or a wave. It’s funny how our routines can introduce us to people we would never meet otherwise. I was so embarrassingly consistent in my tardiness that I made a friend.
I have met so many people through my routine that I might never have otherwise. The 6 p.m. gym squad—I see you. The loyal 3 p.m. Hillside studiers—hey. I appreciate the comfort these familiar faces provide as I go through my week. There’s a sense of unspoken unity as we tackle the semester together.
When people talk about BC, I often hear them say it feels smaller than it is. I’ve heard friends exclaim, “If there are 10,000 people at this school, why do I keep seeing my ex?” My roommates tell endless stories about seeing the one person they were avoiding or constantly running into that same hockey player from their lit core at Circle.
We are all creatures of routine and habit. BC feels small because you are surrounded by people who share your routine. It’s no wonder you see the same people—there are thousands of students you will never meet simply because you only eat lunch at Mac.
I don’t mean to call you out—I am also guilty of this. There are so many incredible upsides to having a routine, but I compel you to break yours. Just a little bit. Try eating lunch at the Rat, or studying at Bapst instead of O’Neill.
When I’m following my routine, BC feels small. But when I break it? This school is huge. I went to the gym at 8 a.m. last week, and I didn’t recognize a single face. Where have these dedicated, fit people been hiding? I realized how isolated my experience at BC has become as a result of my own routine.
Your routine and the people who share it will always be there, so take this as a sign to shake things up. In the best case, you meet someone or join something new. Worst case? Your life is changed by the incredible quality of the Rat bagels. I see no downside.
We’re only at BC for a limited time, so it’s worth exploring the benefits of breaking your routine. It doesn’t have to be a daily thing—just when the school starts feeling smaller than you want it to.
During those times, we should all try eating in another dining hall, studying in new spots, and mixing up our coffee order. A couple of days a week, I’ll even try reaching for a different pair of jeans.
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