“Wise Wasian Women Give You Life Advice” is a biweekly column by Irene Kim and Josephine Buruma, where they review—and advise on—the many troubles of first-year life. Read to reminisce, commiserate, and seek enlightenment. Reach out to them with your issues, qualms, and general maladies at irene.kim.irk24@yale.edu and josephine.buruma@yale.edu!
Help—my Freudian slip!
I admire my first year seminar professor, and I think he’s the absolute best. But, I also called him dad in passing twice. How do I recover from this potentially irreparable mistake?
We don’t blame you for seeking a piece of home in an unfamiliar place—who doesn’t look for a father figure when your phone doesn’t connect to CSCpay and you haven’t done your laundry in three weeks? And who knows, maybe you sparked a tiny piece of joy in your professor’s life. In the end, we all just want to be seen—even if it means we’re seen paternally.
We suggest you lean into this—why not start referring to everybody else in your seminar as your fellow siblings? Maybe Professor Papa can answer why you’ve gained the freshman fifteen even though you only “hit the salad bar.”
College is all about trying on new hats, even if they’re questionable at times. Go explore the weird Freudian relationships in your life, you brave soul. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must.
***
Yikes—I’m without a first-year formal date!
My suitemates are practically cloistered nuns and don’t know any eligible bachelors. Yet I can’t help but feel the pressure to show up with some arm candy. Is that so bad? How do I go about finding someone if my designated wingwomen aren’t showing up for me?
We’ve all been there! This snowy weather would make anyone, even us, yearn for the warmth of another body in that twin-XL bed. One must get resourceful when the Yale facilities heating inevitably fails during this upcoming winter-geddon.
Try swiveling suggestively in your chair to that guy who sits next to you in Intro to Ethics. Perhaps crack a joke about utilitarianism and the quantifiable pleasure gain of you + me = first-year formal? Some men really have to have it spelled out for them! In formulas! Patience is a virtue, girl . . .
***
Mama—where art thou?
I have gotten into the habit of FaceTiming my mom in the laundry room to ask what I think are reasonable questions (Is separating whites and colors a myth? How to remove persistent dining hall gravy stain?),but stares from my peers seem to suggest otherwise. What to do?
To be free, you must first remove yourself from the prison of your own thoughts. Why care so much about what other people think of you? At the end of the day, your clothes will be just as clean as theirs! Be free—go forth and FaceTime. But maybe wear headphones. Airpods are a gift from God!
***
Eek—the smell! It’s a tale as old as a time. A roommate has left food in our common room, and, slowly but surely, it has started to smell. It invades my room at night. I don’t want to hurt their feelings, but I also can’t live like this. What should I do?
Perhaps part of a liberal arts education is realizing the intense variety of smells humans can create and, for some, realizing that they themselves are the creators of those scents. Your roommate falls in the latter camp, and the kind thing to do is to let him know that as soon as possible. Here, life will reward action! Suggest a suite-wide deep clean? Maybe buy him some tupperware?
Approach it how you want, but you owe it to yourself and, more importantly, to your nose-blind suite-mate. The road to the rats is paved with a trail of small crumbs.
Irene Kim
