Life after NSOP

Hi, my name is Zara, I’m from Miami, Fla., my school is Columbia College, and oh wait, what was that last question?” I must have spoken these lines 50 times during the New Student Orientation Program that comprised the first week of my life here in New York City. Those seven glorious days of cheesy bonding activities, campus explorations, free food, and nights out in the city set up a love affair doomed to be short-lived. When Sept. 8, the first day of classes, the first day of my true college experience, finally arrived, I was left paralyzed not only at the thought of waking up before 10 a.m., but also of being left alone to fend for myself for the very first time.

NSOP was a fantasy-land of friendly people—even the kids I accidently bumped in line at John Jay wanted to know my entire schedule and what floor I was on in Carman. Once classes started, however, everyone melded into a big blur of introductions. I promptly forgot their names and remembered them just as that guy with the sweaty palms and that girl who told me she liked my earrings. Meeting people I actually connected with really was a process of trial and error, and almost all of these potential friends ended up as duds. As I pass them in the halls, the awkwardness is palpable as neither of us can decide whether to attempt a half smile in greeting, or pull out our cell phones and act like we are texting.

To complicate matters further, I have a roommate who goes home on the weekends. Seems great, right? I have the room all to myself—I could even walk around naked if I wanted to. But during these solitary weekends, that’s when the post-NSOP loneliness sets in. I sit alone on my bed wondering where my Saturday night is going, wondering why I can’t find one single number in my phone to call except my mother. On the last day of NSOP, as I walked back to my empty dorm room, I heard a conversation going on in the stairwell, “Man, I feel like we can’t just go up to random people and say hi anymore, everyone has their cliques already.” I don’t know about everyone else, but I definitely did not have a clique already!

It may seem strange, but by the end of NSOP I was itching for classes to start, and actually sort of excited about the idea of having to do homework for the first time in months. Starting classes meant that my dream of coming here had finally come full circle, that I would finally get to say to people, “Why yes, I do go to Columbia University,” when the situation called for it. While this was an altogether magnificent feeling, I discovered soon after that though my high school may have tried desperately to prepare me for the kind of work I’d have here, sadly I think they failed. These first few weeks have left me with more stress and frustration than all of senior year combined, leading me to the conclusions that NSOP should have had a mandatory time-managing seminar. We all would have been complaining about it then, but we would definitely be thankful now when it’s 4:30 a.m. and we are desperately SparkNoting the last eight books of “The Iliad” while somehow absorbing 40 pages on Japanese post-World War II culture for anthropology. Three weeks into college and I still haven’t discovered how to extend the amount of hours in a day, much less make due with the 24 I have.

And speaking of not having enough time for things, I probably saw more of Manhattan during one week of NSOP than I have in all of the weeks following. I went to the Central Park Zoo, Times Square, Greenwich Village—there was infinite time for everything. And no doubt, the Columbia campus is great, beautiful, majestic, and everything in between, but it can seem stifling when there is an entire metropolis sitting just beyond the gates! A huge part of coming to Columbia was living in New York City, and with all the post-NSOP craziness, it doesn’t feel quite like that just yet. The few sojourns I have attempted since NSOP left me lost on the subway in Brooklyn, and soaked with a broken umbrella, but those were still the most satisfying days because I finally felt a little bit like a New Yorker.

Sometimes I can’t fathom how I’ll survive it all, with the struggle, frustration, and general confusion of my first year overwhelming me at times. But if I just glance out of my dorm room window I can see that it’s all more than worth it, because I’m here, at Columbia University in New York City, and there is no place I’d rather be.

The author is a Columbia College first-year.