Q: Who are you?
A: My name is Esti, and from now on, I am your go-to girl for all things inquisitive. I’m hardly an authority on anything, but I’ve had a uniquely tumultuous experience in College Park, leading me to become far too familiar with its inner workings.
The day before classes started my freshman year, I was not a registered student, didn’t have a financial-aid package and wasn’t enrolled in any classes. Somehow, within a day, I was a full-fledged student, and within a month I secured on-campus housing. The rest of my year proved easier but not by much. I inadvertently paid for two meal plans. I lived in a forced triple. I lost my friends and my phone at bars and generally made a fool of myself. Still, though, I navigated the minefield of drunk Catholic boys and pricey textbooks, successfully completing my freshman year as a happier and wiser student.
Now I’m back as a seasoned sophomore. Since I moved onto the campus this week, I have moseyed about leisurely and kept in the back of my mind that classes will start some time in the next four to 104 days. It’s easy to deny that amid the frolicking black squirrels and rattling yellow pushcarts there are academics secretly in the works, set to pounce at any moment.
Every semester brings new professors, new housing dilemmas and new love interests to deal with. I realize I am making the start of the semester sound more like a fire drill than a scheduled commencement of classes, but the adjustment is often a tough one, and not just for freshmen. It’d be a lot to handle for anyone who just spent the last three weeks watching re-runs of Michael Phelps explaining his diet (12 eggs a day?!), which I assume is what has occupied most of your time. There’s little to no grace period. Funions and Phelps one day. Soggy pizza and soggy walks to class the next.
You might find yourself lying awake at night plagued with questions ranging from “What are good vegetarian options at the dining hall?” to “How slutty is too slutty?” You can hardly ask your adviser, and that’s assuming you have an accessible adviser. You don’t want to interrupt your roommate who’s busy watching anime porn, so who do you ask? Who will decode those late-night drunk texts she sent you? Who will explain to you the delicate art of making the perfect schedule?
Throughout my troubles in school, I’ve found that depending on the issue, a strongly worded e-mail, or a carefully executed puppy-dog face may be all you need. In other cases, you might need to whip out the big guns. If you are at a loss, or simply don’t have the time to do your own research, I can help.
This column is the first of a weekly segment where I will answer any and all of your questions related to College Park. Fortunately for you, I’m a one-stop shop. In addition to the more serious questions about your academic experience, I’m qualified to answer the most wildly inappropriate, hilariously uncomfortable and painfully entertaining questions, preferably sexual in nature.
This is my introduction. Hopefully I’ve gained your trust and you’re already tempted to send me a query. I’m a sophomore studio art major, from Baltimore. I do not have Facebook, and I’ve never eaten a Twinkie. I’ve been giving my friends advice (both solicited and unsolicited) for years, and this service is now being offered to the whole university free of charge. Even if it is just for the unexplainable rush of seeing your words in print, or a crafty way to send a friend a message, I hope to hear from you. Good luck during the first week of classes and let the sob stories and quagmires begin.
Esti Frishchling is a sophomore studio art major, so she literally has nothing better to do than answer your questions. She can be reached at esti@umd.edu.
