College: Expectations vs. Reality

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, and for that I would like to apologize. Life has been crazy, hectic, new, exciting, and weird. I’m writing this post while sitting on my college campus. COLLEGE. CAMPUS. 

     Who am I? Am I old enough for this? Am I ready to be an independent and responsible human? Honestly, I don’t feel ready. I don’t feel old enough. I don’t feel like how I thought I would feel going into college. 

    I feel homesick. I miss high school. I miss having a set routine. I miss home cooked dinners. I miss my family, my friends, and my own bathroom. I miss the old. 

    I’m not trying to make college sound bad, because it certainly isn’t. It’s fun and it’s exciting, but it’s new. Very new. I came here without really knowing anything. I know a few people that go to the same school as me which has helped, but I honestly feel like I was just thrown into a Hunger Games style arena and was just expected to know how to survive. I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just figuring it all out. But I thought today I’d share a few expectation vs. reality stories with you. 

So I guess, per usual, I’ll just jump right into it. 

Expectation: It’s so easy to meet new people and make new friends. I’ve moved enough in my life to be able to understand how the whole “new friends” things works. I’ll be fine. 
Reality: There are the super nice people that are easy to talk to and easy to get along with, but there are also the people who have no interest (or seemingly no interest) in meeting or even talking to new people. I don’t know if these uninterested people have simply already found their best friends and future bridesmaids, or if they just have no interest in talking to new people. Regardless, I’ve become great friends with the people living in my hall and I’m forever thankful for them! 

Expectation: Taking an 8am will be so worth getting a class out of the way and having the afternoon to relax. I mean, waking up for high school really wasn’t that hard. 
Reality: An 8am class is literal death. Every night is basically a sleepover and getting to bed before 11pm is impossible when the people on your floor are awesome and fun to talk to. As I type this, my eyes are practically closing because I had an 8am this morning. Currently regretting signing up for this class. 

Expectation: The food will be gross and I really won’t have to worry about gaining the Freshman 15.
Reality: The food is amazing. there are so many options, and the bottomless soft serve ice cream with sprinkles is really killing me. Seriously though, the other night there were jalepeño poppers (ie deep friend jalepeños) and I about over dosed on them. So. Much. Good. Food. So. Many. Options. 

So college might not be what I was expecting, but it’s fun. I can already tell that it’s not going to be easy, but I’m taking classes that interest me beyond capacity. I honestly was questioning my major (strategic communications) but my classes have made me feel 110% better about the career that I want to go into (marketing and branding). 

So sometimes life is different than expected, but usually this difference is what teaches us new things and makes us appreciate the old and the so called “normality” of our past.

first impressions

I used to have a blog (well actually, it’s still on the internet somewhere) where I wrote about embarrassing stories that so frequently seemed to happen. For some reason, people liked this blog. I like to think it’s because my stories were so relatable and open and honest, but in reality I think it’s because people liked to laugh at a stranger’s unfortunate events via the internet. Either way, it doesn’t matter, I still got those pageviews, ya feel? ;) 

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    Anyway, I haven’t written on that blog in a while, not because nothing embarrassing has happened lately (because a day doesn’t go by where I don’t embarrass myself), but because I just haven’t had the time to keep up with two blogs. Then, I recently, I asked myself why I had two blogs in the first place. I don’t know why I felt so nervous to share embarrassing stories on PopCosmo. Maybe because this blog has more viewers? Maybe because my dad reads this blog? Who really knows. 

Today marks the first day in history that I will be sharing an embarrassing story on here. This blog. This blog that’s read by more people than solely my cousin and a few select others. Are you ready for this? I mean you made it this far in the post so you might as well read the story..

The other night I went to dinner with two of my friends. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and we felt the need to catch up and tell each other stories (the good and the bad) about what has happened over the summer. Everything was going great until we started talking about technology and our phones, which eventually lead to us talking about our text ringtones. 

Coincidentally, one of my friends had just changed her text tone to a Jurassic World dinosaur roar. I thought it was half cool and half lame, but I wanted to hear what this text tone actually sounded like. So, of course, I texted her. Since she was sitting right next to me I just texted some scrambled letters, “gnirebj.” But for some reason, the text wasn’t going through. So I sent another, “gurejnlsk;a.” That once didn't go through either so I continued to text three more messages of jumbled letters to my friend in hopes of hearing a dinosaur roar. I then joked around and said something along the lines of, “I hope I didn’t send those texts to the wrong person…” 

Turns out I did. I sent five gross — as in “not english” — text messages to the wrong person. And who is this “wrong person” you might ask? None other than my roommate to be for next year, my first year of college. My roommate who I have yet to meet or have an actual conversation with. Way to start impressions out on a good note. Props to me. Awesome work. Always proving myself. I then continued to text my roommate, “omg I’m so sorry!!!” Which rendered no response. 

In the end, I learned two important lessons; one, always make sure you’re texting the right person. Especially when you’re sending gibberish text messages. And two, Jurassic World ringtones aren’t really worth hearing in the end.

my college essay

One of the hardest parts of the college application process is writing the essay. THE essay of your life. The essay that, in merely 500 words, describes you, your personality, and your life. I can’t even begin to tell you how many drafts of my essay I have. All of which are completely different, might I add. Because I’m going to college this coming fall (have I mentioned I’m going to college this coming fall??), I decided that I would share my college essay. Not because I think it’s amazingly well written and creatively processed, but because I think it would have been nice to see other people’s essays before I wrote mine. I was so desperately in need of seeing what an actual college application essay looked like, but to no avail. So if you’re a rising senior in high school and currently creating drafts upon drafts of essays, I’m your heavenly angel from above sending you an ounce of love by showing you mine. 

But no judgements allowed, thank you. Unless it's a good kind of judgement. 

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Anyway, here’s my essay: 

My high school career has been one for the books; some might view it as a failure, but I choose to view it as taking the unconventional path. Five years, three high schools, two cities. Maybe unconventional is an understatement. I had never imagined my life to be so… different, but sometimes different is a good thing. Being different has allowed me to see the world from a new perspective. It has allowed me to better understand new situations in my life and around the world. I have become more open minded due to my “failure” to have a “normal” high school career. 

    Before my high school years became so weird, for lack of better word, I was stubborn. I thought that the world revolved around me, and I didn't think that anything could bring me down. I was fearless, and stupidly naive. Then I became ill with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS). And the world changed. It didn’t change for the worse, but it changed, and it became this completely new place… I started to see people differently; I became more understanding, patient, and open minded. I was also to discover my love for graphic design and photography. So maybe I “failed” to stay healthy, but in my mind I won.

    But what even is failing? Sure, I can look in the dictionary and find that it means “a weakness or a shortcoming,” but what does it really mean? It might mean that you can’t do something that everyone else can do, but the word fails (pun intended) to mention what you can do. For example, one might fail to follow a juice cleanse, but maybe this same girl discovered her love for Flamin’ Hot Cheetos in the process. The word failure, to me, is a huge fail within itself. 

    No, my high school education isn’t “normal.” Yes, I am “different.” But I feel like this difference makes me, well, me. This so called failure has opened my eyes to a different world.  A world where every person has a story that should be heard, a world where positivity is important, a world where I can be myself without worrying about what other people think. Becoming ill created, what felt like, an insurmountable road block and caused me to take a detour to a different path, but this path has Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and graphic design. So tell me, who failed? 

So maybe I’m crazy for sharing my college essay with the world, but what the heck. If your essay is available for reading, please let me know because I’d love to read it! 

Thanks for reading!
xox
chloe