A Note For Newcomers FIORELLA MORZI
I always thought I chose Laurier for the wrong reasons. I didn’t choose to attend because I was enamored with the program, or because I knew people that decided on Laurier too. I didn’t even choose it because of its lively school spirit, student initiatives galore or reputable social scene. I chose Laurier because I was afraid of the one lesson moving away from home can provide you with: how to depend on yourself. Like many students first arriving to university, I spent the last 18 years of my life living at home with my family. I rarely cooked for myself, and heck, my parents even did my laundry. In many ways I lived in a home protected by my folks, living with a mother and father who loved their children tremendously and were (and continue to be) sensitive to my sister and I’s individual needs. In fact, it began to dawn on me that it might be a scary thing leaving behind the comfortable nest my parents had lovingly created. On the night that I decided which school I would attend, I had the Carleton pamphlet in my left hand and Laurier’s in my right. In my mind, the deciding factor was distance. I rationalized that an hour away from my home in Oakville at Laurier was “safer” than five hours away at Carleton. I could never have anticipated that the exact phenomenon I feared and was desperately trying to avoid would be the key to awakening facets of my identity not yet familiar to me. It would become the foundation for understanding myself in ways that, without embarking on my journey to Laurier, would not have emerged in the manner that they did. I hope you’re still with me. At first, Laurier’s energetic sense of school spirit dumbfounded me. I didn’t want to be just another peppy university gal, but I didn’t want to be the party-pooper either. I envisioned my future identity as a rigid box instead of a fluid process. I realize now that “discovering” your identity is a creative, active practice, one not about social binary constructions, but about approaching iden-
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tity construction like a flowing and rambunctious wave. The truth is I didn’t know what I wanted or what I was looking for. Looking back now, I think that was a good sign. I entered university unsure. Unsure of why I was there, unsure of who I wanted to be, which in retrospect I believe can be one of the best positions to be in when entering a new phase in your life. The only requirement is first and foremost making a conscious decision to experience it with kindness and flexibility in mind. With my bags packed and my family and I standing in the doorway of my new dorm room, I can say that an earnest desire to know was all I really had. Essentially my fears were rooted in the belief that I wasn’t going to be okay on my own, but each of the three years here has offered me newfound insight into who I am as a person, a student, a writer, and a woman. Eventually, not only was I okay on my own, I grew in the process of figuring out how to be. Throughout my three years at Laurier, I have been blessed with meeting girlfriends that I know I will maintain a friendship with for the rest of my life. I had the pleasure of meeting them at the beginning of first year in residence. Note: Meeting life-long friends is not limited to living in residence. You’ll be surprised at the relationships you build within class and extra-curricular activities. In my case, I would soon find out that my roommate and I complimented each other perfectly: she accepted my sleeping habits, and I understood her cleaning ones. The other girlfriends I met there taught me how to befriend and love someone who is unlike you, which is something that I have learned to value for its ability to show you the wonders of perspective. Above all, my girlfriends and I laughed until the wee hours, bared our souls, and taught each other the meaning of closeness, acceptance and love. Without Laurier, I would not have developed these friendships, and more importantly, it