In college, it’s the creatures of habit who must take the most risks

I am a creature of habit. I love going to my favorite coffee shop, ordering my beloved entree on a menu and cuddling up with the same blanket to that same movie (my roomies groan as I put on “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” for the umpteenth time), so leaving my worn-in hometown for UCLA four years ago was tougher than I expected.

I can still remember driving up with my family, awkwardly navigating the frenzied clumps of parents and giant move-in bins overflowing with mini-fridges and printed comforters, toward my hovel of a room in Hedrick Hall. At the time I thought I was handling the day well ““ comforting my mom, eagerly greeting my new roommates, arranging my picture frames on my school desk. But in retrospect, I was mostly sad ““ not scared ““ about the challenges that awaited me and nostalgic about what I was leaving behind.

This strong nostalgia and loyalty is something I always hated to admit. I think of myself as an adventurer ““ a world traveler at a young age, always seeking to meet new people, someone who would never get caught up in a comfort zone. I don’t want to own up to my attachment tendencies, because its the same as saying I’m not a risk taker.

What I’ve since realized at UCLA is I can be both an adventurer and a creature of habit. In fact, as cheesy as this sounds, I can be whatever I want to be.

As a fairly uncomfortable freshman, I took risks trying to figure out how I wanted to identify myself on campus. It took a long time to find things I liked, but the reward was so much sweeter. I tried a whole host of things ““ I rushed sororities, joined choir, was the worst player on my intramural soccer team and even considered majoring in philosophy (without even taking a philosophy class). Through these experiences I questioned who I was and what I liked.

Yet I ended up involving myself in things I feel, in retrospect, are “so Sarah” ““ at least that’s what my college friends would say. My experience was almost circular. I went out, exposed myself to various things and then ended up the same Sarah I was when I started. Or did I?

I think I am still the same person, but in a more purified form (sort of like Brita filtration). The process of meeting new people and trying new things gave me a better sense of what I liked and, of course, what I didn’t. The process itself is tough; you feel discomfort when you’re interacting in a context that you later choose to eliminate in your search (lemon water and high heels on Hilgard is just not my thing). During this process, I remember feeling some jealousy toward friends who seemed to mesh into their college experiences right away. In retrospect, I feel incredibly lucky to have gone to a school like UCLA that made me fight for it.

Nostalgia has struck hold in me now that the last few weeks of my senior year are here. Even as I write this, I think of all the articles I’ve written for the Daily Bruin, and I’m getting a swell of sadness.

This creature of habit has a whole new set of regulars. I get a rush when I hear the music play in Pauley Pavilion basketball games, I always order the Sunrise Sandwich at Novel Cafe, and I don’t think there is anything better than a Kerckhoff latte when my mood is down. Watching “Gilmore Girls” with the roomies, silly trips to office hours where my professors look at me like I’m nuts ““ I could go on forever naming the things in my life that now have become habit, but what is more important is the risks I took to make them that way.

UCLA is a huge place with so many different types of people with really unique interests. I am so glad that I didn’t settle in right away when I first got to school, but instead took risks and tried new things. That pursuit brought me all the amazing friends and experiences that have made my time here incredible. I am an adventurer as well as a creature of habit, and now no one can tell me otherwise.

Mier was a Viewpoint columnist from 2007-2010.