DeVry University: Have you considered all your options?
I am not ready for college.
It's funny how an experience I've looked forward to most of my adolescent life now feels like the being of The Apocalypse. I guess because now that I'm almost 18, the word 'college' is synonymous with 'the real world' and 'the future'. Going to college means I'm training towards my future occupation. Can you imagine? An actual job.
I think if I were going to Vassar instead of UC Berkeley (Lord knows I think about it enough) I would be excited. Attending a 'small, liberal arts school' sounds like a euphemism for lots of drinking and sex. (Yes, admit it. Who doesn't want to have sex in college?) Vassar allows a lot more room for both personal and academic exploration. I know they'd take care of me. I know I'd have options.
This is not how I imagined my summer would be like. I thought I'd be dorm shopping, making plans with my future roommate about refrigerators, alarm clocks, and other household appliances. Not sitting in a cold office building nursing frustrated ennui, desperately searching for housing on Craigslist.
And now about Cal. All of a sudden it's like I'm forced to make a choice. In a school with 25,000 undergraduates (and 11,000 graduate students), there simply isn't enough room to jump around. So what is it going to be? Am I going to be an artist? An architect? A business major? Do I have the guts (and the gusto) to pursue film? What the hell am I doing, going to a school that only offers courses in Film Studies?
Why can't things stay as they are? I'm seventeen years old. I haven't spent enough time reading, watching, partying or slacking off to know what I want to do with my life. What do I want? I want to go shopping. I want to spend hours in the sun with a good book. I want to have time to dawdle, and wait, and contemplate my life. I want to run out of this office building and keep running, away from college, responsibilites--anything and everything associated with growing up.
Anyway. I think my lunch break's over.
It's funny how an experience I've looked forward to most of my adolescent life now feels like the being of The Apocalypse. I guess because now that I'm almost 18, the word 'college' is synonymous with 'the real world' and 'the future'. Going to college means I'm training towards my future occupation. Can you imagine? An actual job.
I think if I were going to Vassar instead of UC Berkeley (Lord knows I think about it enough) I would be excited. Attending a 'small, liberal arts school' sounds like a euphemism for lots of drinking and sex. (Yes, admit it. Who doesn't want to have sex in college?) Vassar allows a lot more room for both personal and academic exploration. I know they'd take care of me. I know I'd have options.
This is not how I imagined my summer would be like. I thought I'd be dorm shopping, making plans with my future roommate about refrigerators, alarm clocks, and other household appliances. Not sitting in a cold office building nursing frustrated ennui, desperately searching for housing on Craigslist.
And now about Cal. All of a sudden it's like I'm forced to make a choice. In a school with 25,000 undergraduates (and 11,000 graduate students), there simply isn't enough room to jump around. So what is it going to be? Am I going to be an artist? An architect? A business major? Do I have the guts (and the gusto) to pursue film? What the hell am I doing, going to a school that only offers courses in Film Studies?
Why can't things stay as they are? I'm seventeen years old. I haven't spent enough time reading, watching, partying or slacking off to know what I want to do with my life. What do I want? I want to go shopping. I want to spend hours in the sun with a good book. I want to have time to dawdle, and wait, and contemplate my life. I want to run out of this office building and keep running, away from college, responsibilites--anything and everything associated with growing up.
Anyway. I think my lunch break's over.