A problem of structural integrity

Our campus here is gorgeous. The flowers, the trees, the striking stone building of Old Main all stand as a testament to something fantastic, but there are problems beneath the surface. Spring is here, and with it comes a host of problems, easy to see now that the snow has melted away.
Among the most recent issues, we have those of basic structural integrity.
Physically, the sidewalks and roads are littered with potholes and problems. The organization is not the best, nor is the upkeep.
Parking is absolutely abysmal on campus. The one and only parking garage is falling apart. Good luck parking without four wheel drive during winter as it is highly unlikely half the lots will be clean. The lots that are available to faculty and students are extremely disproportionate to the actual number of people who need them.
Mulch being spread on trees and flower beds is a disaster. Dumping enormous quantities of mulch on trees and other flora is actually a bad thing. After years of over-mulching half the trees will be dead on campus and we will have to purchase new ones, yet every year we do the same thing.
Apartments and dorms are feeling the effects of a hard winter. Leaks are forming, and aside from building maintenance comes the quality of the living arrangements.
This brings us to the real problem her at Mercyhurst–the quality of things.
We all know to expect certain hardships (such as snow removal) but a larger question no one seems to be asking is why.
The second, harder to grasp problem also deals with structural integrity, but not it is not physical. There seems to be an ever-growing between the perceived Mercyhurst and the actual one we attend every day.
I can talk about all of the issues listed above until I am blue in the face, but it does not seem to make much of a difference. And that, for one thing, is incredibly disenchanting.
The morality of those in charge and the decisions they make is frightening. The communication between faculty, staff, and student is crumbling. The feeling of a shared community here at Mercyhurst is slipping away.
Everyone can talk but no one remembers how to listen. Hundreds of people are yelling their complaints, their problems, even some their complements, but it is like we are saying it all to a brick wall.
I understand all our issues will go unanswered. I understand the difference between wanting something and practical fulfillment.
But not all the needs here on campus seem as ridiculous as my desire for a Buggati Veyron when I live in snowy Erie and do not make three million dollars a year.