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This image summarizes in a whole my first semester experience with the unnecessarily complex side of Baruch.
College is utterly different from high school. It’s not going to remind you to do xyz, it’s just going to randomly kick you in the face with a sudden reminder that you missed a bunch of deadlines and opportunities. Woe to you if you slack off and take absolutely no initiative because the tangled mess of Cunyfirst and various offices are going to collectively leave you on the verge of a mental breakdown wondering why Bursar’s sent you to Academic Advisement and why Academic Advisement sent you back to Bursar’s. Admittedly, it’s not the office’s fault entirely: the people are very nice and just as bewildered as we are by the occasional technical snafu.

In addition I have to admit that it took me a while to realize why some people didn’t go into the elevators because they were express. Note taken: if you want to go to the 5th floor for communications, you use the escalators or you look before you enter.

Ultimately, it was definitely a growing experience that allowed me to unexpectedly bond with some of my classmates as we frantically ran around the school trying to figure out what in the world a “hold” was and how to get rid of it.

To me, the constancy of an individual’s personality is loosely defined. I operate on various levels; don’t fit me into one picture frame. I’m a multitude of women, and over a thousand reflections. You need only look into the dresser to find me.

I’m currently the perfect college sweater. There’s so much energy, so much team spirit. Everything’s bright and optimistic and I know for sure that whatever I’m rooting for is going to win. The only thing I need is the name of my pride emblazoned over my heart like an emblem.

Sometimes, though, I’m the bright pink skirt with pearl edging. I pair myself with a lot of sugar, and chocolate is a necessity of life. I fight with people over the right to sit in the spinny chair and I draw smiley faces on my friends’ notebooks.

Meanwhile, as everyone knows, these are the clothes they can’t quite wear yet but would love to:

The black dress is a woman who’s very proud of her sexuality, and her power. She doesn’t hesitate to smile with red lipstick, and she always goes with high heels.

Then there’s a dark blue blazer: she’s sleek, friendly and yet professional. She’s sharp enough to focus whenever she chooses, blunt enough to say what she needs to say. There’s a weariness to her but that’s simply the perfume of hard-earned experience.

So with my words and decisions I weave my fabric of existence. My power is the ability of self-definition, and I have no need of a dictionary for that.