Dear Reader,
As spring begins and the college application process comes to a close, I suddenly find myself in the same shoes that so many seniors before me have stood in: not knowing at all what my life may look like in six months.
My “Clueless” ness about the road ahead of me is part of what makes this stretch of the year so complicated, I think — as I sit through classes, go out shopping with friends, microwave Trader Joes dinners and of course (as the cliché DV student I am), begin studying for upcoming AP exams, it’s all permanently followed by a feeling of uncertainty. Without even realizing it, I’ve always had clear goals throughout high school that functioned as guideposts for what the next step of my life was going to be.
Take that online class (to boost your GPA so you’ll get into college)!
Sign up for that camp (to diversify your extracurricular profile so you’ll get into college)!
Spend X amount of hours on your passion project (so you’ll get into college)!
But now, it’s over — or more accurately, it’s just starting to begin. The primary focus of my life is behind me, and I can’t help but be of two minds about it. On one hand, I’m incredibly grateful for the acceptances I was lucky enough to receive, each one another reminder that my hard work paid off (despite the equally present sting of rejection). On the other, I’m torn between multiple great options, and consequently, the different paths I may soon walk.
I suppose that in many ways, I’ve arrived at the crucial point in most coming-of-age movie characters’ lives. In a film, this would be the moment where the heroine has to decide between multiple futures, the many lives she may live depending on what she does next. In one, she’d be in Southern California, taking weekly trips to the beach; in the other, she’d be on the East Coast, walking the streets of New England with headphones on and a book in hand. In one, she’d use the campus gym every day and master the art of upping her protein intake via dining hall food; in the other, she’d have a part-time job that pays for meals, keeping the dining hall a distant thought. And then, of course, there’s the secret third option, where her name falls off a waitlist and all imagined plans change in the span of time it takes to open an email.
Surprisingly, it isn’t the big stuff that keeps me up at night. I don’t spend hours mulling over the name on my degree, or the professors I’ll work with or even the classes I’ll get to take. They all matter to me and will undoubtedly define my experience, but most of that research was completed before submitting my applications.
No, what I wonder about now is the small, day-to-day things that I’ve always taken for granted. Where will I get coffee? What’s the name of the person I’ll rant to after an assignment that kept me up past my bedtime? What will my favorite spots be to study, to hang out with friends, to take walks? What sports will I begrudgingly watch for social survival and grow to love over time?
As my life fills to the brim with questions, I take solace in the few answers I’m afforded, finding them in what’s here at the moment. Every minute with my friends feels twice as precious now, especially the ones I haven’t learned how to live without yet. Admittedly, I haven’t yet put on the “graduation goggles” so many seniors have described, where suddenly, every crack and flaw of high school seems shiny and ephemeral, but I can see myself finding them eventually. Completely “Clueless,” I have no choice but to face the rest of this year “As if!” I’m swimming with a blindfold on — but perhaps there’s value in what I can’t yet see.
Taking my time,
Mahika
