On Monday, my new homeroom teacher for senior year called me to discuss the school year ahead, graduation, and plans for college and the future. I told her where I wanted to go to school. I told her that I wanted to be an author. And then she made me realize how quickly this would all go down, how close the future really is. It was terrifying and exciting all at once, and I started to force myself to face it.
On Tuesday, I started researching the application process to each of my top ten colleges. And then, I started applying. Seven of the ten were quite easy, though, because they all went through The Common Application – or, the Common App. Basically, you fill out this one application for a bunch of the schools you’re applying to, and I think that makes it a little less stressful/monotonous (seriously, I typed my name, address, and email so many times I started to question if I was spelling them right). Then, each school has some sort of supplement application, like an essay or extra questions.
Why am I sharing this? Because all of a sudden, the fact that I’m a senior feels real. It also feels mildly terrifying. Should finances and grades allow it, I am going to end up going to a school that I can’t exactly commute to. On the one hand, I’m excited for it. I love big cities, I’m so excited for the schools I’ve chosen, and everything seems like a wonderful opportunity to grow as a person. But I also know that I’m quiet, shy, anxious, and don’t do well with making new friends. I’ve never been any good at it, really. Something about my personality, I guess.
The future is a hard thing to face maturely, even for adults, I believe. When we think about it, it’s either in anxiety, constantly worrying what will happen, or we put it off, because it feels too far away. But the fact of the matter is that we live in the future. Every moment we take to process the present, the present has passed, and the next moment begins. The older we get, the faster time moves, and suddenly everything we tried to put off until later confronts us first, leaving us like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. The most dangerous thing about time is the thought that we’ll have enough of it.
So yes, maybe I’m jumping the gun a little here, but I know that I have to. I need to give myself time to accept that I’m about to start college. I need to give myself time to adjust to senior year. I need to give myself time to genuinely face the fact that I might end up living hundreds or thousands of miles away from home, and I’m going to have to fend for myself. If I start applications right now, then I can take my time. I can get used to the fact that this is something I’m doing.
What can you take away from this? Well, whatever you want, I guess. But that thing you’ve been putting off because it’s too big and terrifying and not important until later? Start on it now, just a little. That thing that you spend more time worrying about than working on? Slow down. Know your deadline, and then work towards it slowly.
Just like it says in my favorite podcast, Welcome to Night Vale: “The past is gone, and cannot harm you anymore. And while the future is fast coming for you, it always flinches first and settles in as the gentle present.”
I’ll see you on Sunday.
~Liz.