Orientation ended back in late August and I was suddenly in the midst of that world that everyone talks about, the world that's the setting for many a film, the one I've heard will have the biggest impact on me than any other in my life. I don't know what I was expecting, but a few things have surprised me about it in the best way possible, and awakened me to the liberating reality that I do not miss high school one tiny bit. (Good thing I didn't get attached.)
-Staying up till 3 on a Tuesday night is a normality, but not because you're torturing yourself over homework. It'll be because your group spontaneously decided it was time for a Harry Potter marathon, or an impromptu trip for doughnuts and pizza before engaging in a high-stakes Nerf war in the dorm basement. Speaking of which...
-I have a group. I've never had a group before. I've had one or two friends in several different social spheres, but never a pack of my own. We have a group text to coordinate family dinners. What on earth?
-But that doesn't mean they're my only friends, either. I can't go anywhere without encountering at least 5 people that I have to say hi to and possibly hug, and how's their week going and that's a great sweater and we should hang soon and it was great to see you for the third time this week. By no means am I wildly popular, but I have more friends than I've ever had and it's kind of awesome.
-When you want to see someone, you can just... walk to their actual bedroom and start a conversation right where you left off the last one. I don't just go to school with these people. I live with them. They are intertwined into every aspect of my daily life, essentially making them my family. When I was home for Thanksgiving, I had the strange realization that outside of college, when you want to see a friend, you just have to... wait... until the next time you see each other.
-All those things that I cared about in high school? The completeness of every mundane homework assignment, whether or not so-and-so liked me or was mad at me or cared if I did anything, how impressive my transcript or extracurriculars looked? None. Of. It. Matters. No one talks about what scholarships they got, who was valedictorian or class president, or any of that. It's the best thing that could have happened, because I hated caring about that stuff to begin with.
Even to the most dedicated, high-stress college student, at the end of the day grades are just grades.
Everyone understands that the things we remember about college won't be academic-related. For someone who's been an overachieving perfectionist their whole life, it's a freedom like no other.
-On a related note, all the prexisting requirements for "cool" are almost nonexistent. There is almost no fame attached to the members of student government, star athletes, people whose parents have a pool, the hot girls who have more friends than all the other girls. Being who you are is cool, and being different doesn't make you an outsider. It feels like a slap in the face to the people that "mattered" in high school for those other reasons, and for some sick reason I love it. I don't miss them.
-I don't even miss the kids I talked to every day, the ones I genuinely liked. Occasionally a faint memory of my few best friends comes to mind, and perhaps I wish they were with me, but that's it, because I don't want to leave where I am, even for them. Is that absolutely terrible? On the other hand, if I go a couple days without seeing my current friends, something feels horribly wrong. It's true what they say, about which friends you keep forever: it's the ones you meet in college.
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When new people ask where I live, I don't say Virginia. I say Massachusetts. It's sort of unbelievable, but this is my home now. Which is problematic, since college is by definition an impermanent thing. But this will be the longest I've ever been in one place, and I think I'm okay with that. I'll stay a while.
