A Letter to Fate

Dear Fate,

I am so ridiculously blessed (or lucky, or privileged, or fated, or whatever). Thanks.

During high school, I worked HARD. Way too hard, now that I reflect. And I have been rewarded for it. I have been accepted into some of the most prestigious schools in the country, I have wonderful friends, a spectacular family, and, speaking for myself, I have a relatively agreeable personality and all the maturity, flexibility and conversationableness that goes with that.

However, as of right now, I feel slightly disappointed in the outcome of my college search and, frankly, life in general. This is not depression, nor hopelessness, but a strange mixture of jealousy, fatigue, hormones, self-absorption, and indecision.

Story of my life this year: I want something badly. I am told that I will eventually get that thing which I really want (told by family, friends, counselors, etc.). I don't get that thing which I really want. But I get all the accessories: all the other college acceptances I was waiting for, plenty of dates to fill my weekends, placing in other competitions, on and on, like getting everything on a chef salad except the damn lettuce.

I look around me, and other people seem to have found the right path. They got into their dream schools, or the schools they were destined for from birth. They found that perfect significant other. They ace every test. They place in every contest. They get every solo or main role. They've got the money, the time, the talent, the personality which simply make them glow.

And then I think about all the options I have, about how I am often seen as the ideal person described above, and I feel so guilty for complaining about what I have, especially to friends and acquaintances who definitely don't have the choices I have, through no fault of their own. I mean, there are people dying of radiation poisoning in Japan, genocide in the Middle East, bombs dropping like crazy in Africa, and children without parents or education or futures. And I'm complaining about not getting exactly what I want at exactly the time I want? I'm such a bitch, mannnnnn. Gosh, just count out how many times I use the pronoun 'I' on this thing...

But seriously, Fate. If it's not too much trouble, and if it doesn't entirely screw up my future, can something turn out exactly the way I want it to? I need a break from making vaguely unsettling choices...

Near the End.

Hmmmm. College is the dawn after the darkness (also known as "high school"). But after going on over 20 college visits, spread throughout my middle school and high school years, and culminating (hopefully) yesterday with Rhodes College, I think I can pick out THE MOST IMPORTANT things in a college with a bit of authority. Judge for yourself:

1) Restaurants (preferably cafes or donut shops) that are open all night with 6 donuts/dollar deals after 11 PM. Donuts are the perfect midnight snack.

2) Look around campus. Have you ever seen so many attractive men in one place in your life? (fyi: You're in the right place if you answer "no.") I am finally convinced that long-sleeved dress shirts with shorts and boat shoes could work...

3) Arranged, personal meetings with the chairs of the departments you plan to major in. Chair of music, chair of English, plus a billion other professors who desperately want to meet you. And when world-famous author Mark Behr will be teaching you how to write novels...

4) The president of the college offers you an impromptu lesson on how to tie a bow-tie.

5) Free stuff: t-shirts, sweatshirts, customized water bottles stuffed with your favorite candy, travel stipends, cookies with the seal of the college on them...

6) St. Jude's hospital (for young cancer patients) is five minutes away. My ideal volunteer work.

7) During English class, you hear a strange noise. Yes, it is the monkeys from the zoo across the street. LEGIT, man.

8) 80% study abroad rate. The national average is 7%...

9) Sorority girls who live in substance-free housing? Paradox? No. True lyfe. Stereotype destroyed.

10) More work than Harvard students. Don't judge my love of paper-writing...

I may be hanging out with Elvis next year, guys.

Decisions

I was going to spend my 'Friday' night catching up on the latest episode of GLEE (I have been converted, my friends), but then I sadly discovered that it won't be back for three whole weeks. Then I thought about the millions of people in Japan who are struggling quite a lot right now, and I felt [better about my own life? guilty that I was disappointed by an absent TV show? empathetically depressed?]

Anyways, I am going on a college visit tomorrow (making today 'Friday', you see) to visit the only college (out of 11) that I did not visit in the course of my college search. Ironically, it's also the school that has offered me the biggest scholarship...

Man, nothing ever turns out like you expect it to do. Absolutely nothing. Flashback to August. This year was supposed to be so different. The first day of senior year, I didn't know that I would meet people who would alter the course of my entire year, that I would be faced with the most bizarre moments of my life, that I would go in circles about my religion, my political beliefs, my major, even the type of experience I want to have in college. I mean, this is getting to be ridiculous.

I was reading Chicken Soup for the College Soul  the other night (I'm a hopeless addict to silly heartwarming stories, guys, as much as I deny it) and, I admit it, getting teary about leaving my family. (If you had the most adorable little siblings in the world, I believe you would feel the same way.) I was crying while reading a book about other people who left home, and I'm going to be no less than six hours away from home next year? Gah, Toy Story 3 viewing experience all over again...

I'm hoping that tomorrow there will be a moment of clarity "Oh, I can't go to any other school but this" or "Ohhh, I can go to any other school but this." Then, I'm hoping that on Saturday, I'll have another moment of clarity "Oh, the last school to give me its admission decision is giving me...what? a full ride? How nice..."
What if I don't? What if I'm still in the throes of confusion about what I want?

Solution: Put the names of the schools in a hat. Choose one. Voila.
The Lord will provide, and if He doesn't, I'll never know the difference anyways.

Canada, eh?

A week in Canada with temperatures averaging out at about 0 Celsius clears the senses better than any allergy medication. Disregard the fact that the final morning of our trip, I asked my dear roommates as soon as I woke up what the hell actually had happened over the past six days. Bizarrity, if it is a word:

Dogsledding is fun. I really want a husky now...
Drama is not fun. (But it makes for great girl conferences late at night!)
St. Joseph's Oratory induces tears and spiritual revivals.
A hall of prayer candles is spectacular.
Recording your own mouth with an iTouch and then playing it back provides for hours of enjoyment.
Ice skating hurts. But the hurt is worth it.
Frozen rivers rank among my favorite sites ever.
Building covers which look like the actual buildings are strangely fascinating.
Best time to spend time with me/ call me: after 10 PM...
I sort of won.
No more octopus doodles will ever appear on my papers.
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Elephants and peanuts awwww.
Segregated pictures.
French romances and trench coats.
Favorite juniors.
VEGAS, baby.
The downfall of HappyLand.
Gahh the wi-fi never worked.
Febreeze and body spray to remedy the room that smelled like wet dog droppings.
Bus ride conversations. LONG ones.
Yes, I feel like a worried mother hen.
Don't bully meeeee.
Mmmmm first hamburger in three months...
Lush.
Failed souvenir shopping.
Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. (in Tagalog!)
Chocolate croissants.
Egg pictures. SIAMESE TWINS!
Organists. Phillipe....
Organs. Maple leaf shaped ones.
Tropical paradise in the middle of Canada, eh?
Intervention.
Tour guides. Typical French Canadians.
The things they sell in bathrooms...
Coffee, coffee, coffee.
Strange fashion choices of Canadian teens.
Woahh transvestite spotting in Terminal D.
Elevator music!
Wait...why do I care so much again??
Bomb.
Gahhh so many churches!
Listen to your voice, man.
WHO IS THIS?
Sirop d'erable.
Moules frites sont delicieusesss.
Wow. I'm sane.
THEY ALL KNOW ENGLISH!
C'est si bon!

This list makes absolute no sense to innocent bystanders...but fellow Canadian voyagers might recognize an item or two. Reminiscing makes everything seem so much better. Woooot Canada, eh?

But what a strange spring break...

Late Night Lesson

Never listen to depressing romantic music (Frank Sinatra. Carousel. Phantom. Etc.) late at night while attempting to do calculus, especially when you are already sleep-deprived, confuzzled, emotional, and tense. Just go to bed, or you will eat way too much ice cream, inhale way too much kleenex dust, and accumulate enough hate for your calculus teacher to throw off your karma for the rest of your life.

I'm never gonna be able to get to sleep now.