Hi Barnard,
You’re way too complicated to imagine and cast me in the most unpredictable coming-of-age story I can think of. Most people who have fallen in/out of love with you as much as I have are also wondering why you attract a never-ending supply of girls who seem to master the classic little black dress even in NY’s February slush and those who seem to find out they’re completely devoted to something or someone after they’re finished talking about it. Your varied cast of characters is something I would love to ask you about over a French-pressed coffee someday, but now let’s focus on you – the open arms I come home to (and often take for granted).
You are frustratingly beautiful with your brick exterior, bear-engraved gates, waterfront views, strange collection of towers, stone “Quads”, reflective Claremont Avenue walks, and limited square footage. If I were to drive over a hundred blocks from the bottom tip of the island you wouldn’t catch my eye. But if you did, I would reveal to you that I’m intimidated by the Greek statue and wonder what you’re hiding from me on the outside. You would have to tell me that if the search for best friends is forced, it will be as effective as a desk that won’t fall down in Milbank, that girls here will meet and stay close because it’s fate – just like a rainy Monday morning in a dance studio watching the sun rise on the Hudson. You promise you’ll find me a community eventually, but by the time you’re over your latest mood swing, I’ve already created one. You make me feel frazzled and co-dependent. There’s a world of art, food, style, love, corporations, conversations, and endless nights out there for me to seize and you pressure me to stop dreaming about all of that and stay with you instead. There’s just something that sticks about you and your short-lived scenery and lack of natural warmth. I feel like I have to know where I’m going when we cross paths so I can make you proud, a true “Barnard Girl,” but know deep down you will accept both my smiles and my tears. I know I can feel like a Carrie Bradshaw and a lost Felicity in the same walk home at night.
It can be hard to defend you when I’m away. You’ve brought questionable experiences into my life like bad roommates and class registration processes from hell, yet I know you’re just testing me. Some people use you to grow up too fast, but I can catch a break now and then. I only have a year and ten weeks left in your company and am still shocked at how attached I am to you. Maybe it won’t make sense until graduation day. But you’ve given me access to a collection of unparalleled ideas, creativity, glamour, and thin crust pizzas, all of which are so worth the wait. The last thing I will ask for is a theme song that really reminds me of you, which will entertain my grandchildren and make them jealous of our relationship.
Happy Valentines Day.