Anxieties That Every Cornellian Faces

As if RPCC isn’t stressful enough, there is always the looming fear that there will be no forks left after the 30 mins of waiting on lines and getting your food. You finally made it through the chaos, you can see the finish line, you reach into the silverware for your fork, and pull out a knife. Naturally, you try to grab your fork 5 more times and repeatedly grab a spoon or knife again. Oh, but don’t worry there’s a bunch of silverware spots. Alas, a few minutes later you discover that RPCC is entirely out of clean forks. Stop acting like a broke student, please just go get more forks RPCC-it’s giving us anxiety

We are all rooting for you TCAT – you want to be helpful and we want to be helped, but somehow you make it so hard. For starters, your app is a disgrace to design aesthetic and the intended functional ease of apps in general. I don’t know why there are emojis on my screen when I am just trying to get to my class that starts in five minutes and frankly, don’t even bother explaining–just please make them go away.

Subcategory: Figuring out how to pay for aforementioned home

Housing at Cornell is ridiculously expensive to begin with, but adding insult to injury is the fact that finding housing is almost impossible. From Greek housing, co-ops, Collegetown, North Campus, West Campus, just the sheer number of options is overwhelming, and the housing market within that is insanely competitive as well.

You think you have it all figured out. “BRBs last longer than I thought,” a naive you once said. Then November rolls around and your account isn’t looking too hot anymore. Are we supposed to sacrifice our delicious Trillium lunches for Oakenshields’ salty slop? The answer is no, you probably won’t, and instead you will get over the shame and pull out that credit card. Yet with every swipe of “real money” the tension in your body builds. Please just give us more BRBs or switch Trillium to swipes.

The fog is thick, your spirits are low, and the slope looms above you: the mornings that haunt Cornellians’ dreams. As you launch all your weight forward trekking up the hill you can’t help but wonder how everyone makes it to class and why everyone accepts this reality. “It’s making me fit,” you remind yourself and then quickly forget as your legs begin to give out. The worst part is, once you make it to the top you are reminded of the same path you will have to take tomorrow.

Lets face it–regardless of whether or not you actually go, office hours are inevitably anxiety-inducing. First you have to muster up the energy to go somewhere you don’t technically have to go to, then try to not crumble in fear in front of your professor or cute TA you’ve secretly been crushing on. Ultimately it ends up being helpful, but at what cost? This one is probably on us, but that doesn’t make it any less stressful.

In hindsight, the swim test is really not a huge deal, yet every freshman becomes obsessive over the concept. How many laps is it? What if I drown? Or worse: What if I fail and never graduate? When you’re standing at the edge of the pool everything you once knew about yourself seems to vanish; you begin to question your ability to swim at all. Your heart starts to race, you make eye contact with the lifeguard to make sure they know you’re there and that you may need them soon. It doesn’t matter that the ordeal is over within about five minutes–the PTSD remains with us for years to come and will continue to be inflicted upon the incoming class. If it is any comfort, at least we are all facing it together.