From the Brunt of Shopping Week (p.s. Thank God Canaday is Open Until Two AM)

First of week classes: check. Feeling of fulfillment and overwhelming self-glorification over my stellar ability to accomplish work on time and get things done: NOT APPLICABLE.
The first week was difficult last fall semester—but this I thought was due to the fact that I was transitioning frosh and couldn’t look at an ice cream cone without thinking of my family. This fall semester I realize that when the first week of classes comes around, circumstances are rough and pointy all around for everyone. [1]  Before coming from a somewhat miraculously successful summer, I made sure I had my classes in order—but of course, like with any other good ‘plans’ I make, they unravel before me (shaving down my pride, developing muscles for my Bryn–Mawr-Be-Brave face). I got waitlisted for two classes that I had pre-registered for—the two classes I hoped would be my release from the drudgery of pre-med requirements (I’m taking two labs–Chem and Physics as well as Calc…). I wouldn’t dread this so had I not been forced by fate in spring semester to take an English class at Haverford, regarding a subject that I was completely uninterested in, on top of the fact that I was probably the only frosh in the class (meaning that I was intimidated beyond reasonable understanding and I would not speak in class unless called on, which still fills me with terror).

I registered for another English course, and went to classes for the first week without any enthusiasm. However, after doing the assignments and devoting myself to silence the cynical embittered voice in my head throughout class, I think the class is great. Really. The professor is super passionate and enthusiastic, and takes everything anyone has to say into account (does not dismiss even the seemingly trivial commentary). The case of the waitlist easily resolved. And the convocation picnic and its sunshine and food and Frisbees deceived me into believing that this week would churn itself into butter.

I have also already managed to spread myself thin. After a summer that consisted of sedentary activity (besides my pilgrimage to Spain and Ireland, getting up to go to the fridge and when I’d volunteer at the hospital) I decided that this year I would be active, give myself a physical activity in which I can relieve all my anxieties by knocking people about. With that intention in mind, Rugby was the obvious answer. Although this in some ways creates more anxieties regarding performance in said sport as well as probable injuries that may incur severe spino-cerebral damage that can impair me for life or maybe even end said “life”[2], I think that it will keep me fit, as least physically and serve to be an efficient stress outlet.  On top of Rugby, (MWF practices, Saturday games) I am constantly disappointing the Mujeres Exec. Board but showing up late or not at all to plan and budget for this semester (which includes Latina Heritage Month; very important). Did I mention I work two jobs (how else would I pay for my Calc, Chem, and Physics text books and my Modernisms books?)?

And would you know it, that after all this I had no water balloons for Parade night?[3] Thankfully my faithful roommate, Mo, and her friends had some that I helped throw…the long weekend was a blur from the Step Sing[4] on.

The first week is also replete with post-summer friend issues (the straw that breaks the back; hence the tears that ensue into the second week of classes). The summers that sandwich our semesters change everything. And these changes are the first things we have to feel out and learn when we come back. Re-learning each other, re-learning ourselves in these different contexts. Learning that we are not static beings. So you can only imagine what it’s like to carefully (it’s important to be so when untangling these knots) wade through all the social issues as well as resolve your scheduling conflicts and decide what volunteer positions you’re going to apply for[5] (I opted for Bryn Mawr Hospital…still working on that) and how you are going to fulfill your gym requirements (and still have fun) and such.

Everything works its self out though.  And it works out in a way that allows for a new appreciation of hard work, hardly working, and for the new tides we slip into.

 

[1] The first week of classes is designated, ‘shopping week’. This is a week where you can register for five bajillion classes (n.b. this is an exaggeration) and go to each one, testing out the waters and getting a feel for what classes you actually want to take and which ones you’ll decide to drop. If a class is full, you will suffer the wrath of the lottery. Some students, especially those who have declared their majors, will get in the class, and others (usually underclassman) will get waitlisted. If you’re not top three on that waitlist, forget about it bucko.  You might as well drop the class. Or if you’ve got money, (which trust me, with the cost of books and other necessities you won’t) you can take Athena’s statue to a spa. But even then. Athena is a fickle lady so I’d say its not worth the try.

[2]  For after all, is this really life? I’M IN TRAINING TO BE A CORPORATE MONKEY—A SLAVE TO QUANTITY COMPLETELY DISREGARDING QUALITY! Okay, just kidding but seriously—pursuing passions is a difficult thing.  Completing more than one task thoroughly is a super power.

[3] A night dedicated to welcoming of the frosh. Sophomores are responsible for pummeling the kids with water balloons and spraying them with water guns. SHOUT OUT TO 2015 WE REALLY GOT YOU KIDS GOOD!

[4] The way in which we usually end our traditions, gather around the Senior Steps of Taylor Hall and sing and join in great merriment. Then we wish each and every person a Good Night.

[5]  I think that volunteering is pretty important. Another part of being a healthy college student is feeling that in some way you are helping—even if it’s part of your own learning experience.

*EXCLUSIVE* Summer Time Post (Oh How I Long for Those Summer Adventures)

Oh…the strange travesties obstacles I’ve confronted this summer (thus far)…

After spending the last three weeks camping out in Canaday Library [1]and there, cultivating what is to be known as the great Canaday Gypsy Commune, comprised of my closest and most studious chums, I was ready to cheerfully depart with what I will one day consider the first of the best years. Frankly, I left BMC (Bryn Mawr College) with great expectations as to what my summer would entail—the adventures I would partake in, the sites I would see, the great projects I would take on, (the first-year blubber weight I would lose)! Surely, these three months I would bask in the glory of fulfillment and accomplishment without the constraints of school-year-obligations—perhaps these three months would not suffice in length to accommodate all my dreams!  However, the forces of the universe would not have this—no, Lady Fate made a mockery of my summer aspirations. I was wildly wrong in believing that my summer was going to consist solely of lemonade and having my single most difficult daily task entail the hunt for the most promising spot in which to bake in the glorious rays of the sun.

For starters, I was broke. This being a problem due to the fact that I had a long anticipated trip to Spain[2] (that was thus far, only half paid for) to pay for on top of the money I would have to save for fall semester tuition, and text books.  Being a college student so well learned in the ways of being constantly on the prowl for paper[3], I had secured a summer job at a learning center conveniently right across the street from my house (no gas money required!) , where I had also worked all four years of high school.  This job is fantastic in many ways, but the greatest aspect of it lies in the work itself, which is constituted in assisting four to seven year old kids acquire fundamental math and reading skills.  While this might be many people’s nightmare, it’s an experience that I not only enjoy, but also one that will ultimately help me determine my career path (I’ve been stuck between medicine and education).  So, here I was ready to make said paper as entered the center at the beginning of my second week home—only to find my boss asking me to come in next week, for at the moment she was “completely overstaffed”.  I dragged my disillusionment back across the street. As subsequent to most disappointments many questions arose in my head; Are there any guarantees that I would have this job? Who else will employ me just for the summer? But the most troubling of these, How will I pay my expenses? I decided I would wait for the verdict decided in the next week.

During this time I was also anxiously awaiting a response to a volunteer application I had sent in to the local hospital—an opportunity that would grant me insight into the world of medicine, and help me in selecting the career I want to pursue.  My unanswered application threw me into anguish, especially now that I had the time to panic. In my frenzy, I called the director of college volunteers, left more than one clumsy voicemail, I even walked over to the hospital and spoke to someone in the office who took my name down after informing me that I was, “in the system” and also advised me to, “call and leave a voicemail,” so, I left after pretending to be appreciative of her advice.

What used to be my father's car...

 

Fast-forward two days to the street in front of my high school. Scene; my father’s totaled car, a bumper-less navy Lexus, myself (bawling my eyes out) and two other Mawrtyrs [4] standing in complete shock as a police officer took down the report. That’s right, I had totaled my dad’s car. Completely smashed in the front my ramming into the car in front of me. Really the whole thing played out like a movie sequence; Happily driving to the duck pond to feed the ducks our unfinished pancake breakfast, Rolling in the Deep by Adele was playing on the radio, I slowly looked to my friend in the passenger seat, not realizing the diminishing speed of traffic ahead, and right there the loud pang, my air bag deploying, exploding in my face, my friend’s body wrenching in response, and then the hissing of my father’s car. After completing the necessary business, with the police, and my surprisingly calm father, we walked home. My parents took it all really well, reminding me that although it was terrific that my friends and I were intact, there were consequences, and in this case, the consequences involved paying the expected increased insurance bill. As you might imagine, I was terrified—not only was this another hefty debt to add to the list of expenses “to be paid”, but there was also no guarantee that I actually had a job that would alleviate these costs.  All my efforts at anything seemed to be in vain—at this point I was begging Athena[5] to toss me a bone.

Luckily my friends, I write to you from a better place, most of my “misfortunes” either resolved or on their way upwards. My trip to Spain is a paycheck away from paid (I cut open my kid piggy bank and discovered what a stingy kid I was), I have my job (for keeps!), and after much persistence many voicemails, e-mails, and office visits, I attained an interview at the hospital and a volunteer position in the Natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU; where most premature and sick newborns go). I knew immediately when I stepped into the NICU that things were looking up. Everything is feasible when applied to with perseverance, especially through doubts, fears, and hesitance. These babies in the NICU are the greatest example of this, that even in their minuscule size, they strive to live (really! Some manage the strength to roll over their crib bumpers and push themselves up against the plexiglass!).  I’d say all in all, the misfortunes of my summer have been blessings in disguise, all demonstrating the solid foundations Bryn Mawr has inculcated in me so far, showing me what I am really made of, and what I am actually capable of.


[1]  Literally camping out (interrupted only by 4 am WaWa convenience store/gas station runs)—this library is open 24 hours during exam periods.  This also entails an epidemic knowns as Canadaze in which one suffers from not being able to distinguish one day from the other, and shower amnesia (not knowing when was the last time you went to your dorm to shower).

[2] The trip is actually a pilgrimage known to young Catholics around the world as World Youth Day. The journey ends with an encounter with Pope Benedict XVI

[3]  1. Paper– Slang term for “money”.

“I’m getting’ paper.”

-From the song, Look at Me Now by Chris Brown

[4] A term used to refer to anybody attending or who has attended Bryn Mawr College :D.

[5]Athena, Greek goddess of Wisdom as well as Bryn Mawr College’s patron Goddess