College. Every public school system's goal for its students. College. The 4 (or 5 or 6) greatest years of your life. College. The most effective means of gaining independence.
College is indeed great. Great as in huge, intense. Believe me, I love college. I enjoy the thrill and the excitement, the ease of meeting people, the football games, the freedom. But the problem is, those were the things I was told about that make college "great." Yeah, there were a few muttered comments about college classes, some falsely claiming to be easier than high school classes. Yes, I have three siblings who attended college and yes, I heard all of the roommate stories. Still, I entered college with a pair of drunk-stimulated goggles on.
Last time I visited home, I told my Momma that I had been in a comfort zone my entire life. Things were where I needed them. People were exactly where I needed them when I needed them. I expected college to be like my old life, just more fun. And it is more fun. But boy is it as different as peanut butter is from jelly. Everything is new, completely and utterly new. And if you've known me long enough, you know I like tradition. I only like change if I'm the one changing things. I like my old friends. I like my old church. I like my old house with my old bathroom and my old, twin-size, low to the group, non bunked bed. True, a few of my friends are at Knoxville and I love having Jordan nearby but it's still not the same.
Everything is unfamiliar. The city, the people, the weather, the structure, my classes and professors, the food, my sleep pattern or lack of. My entire life is so different and so new. I like new things...but not a lot of new things. Adjusting, scratch that, being tossed across the ocean into a whirlpool of new things isn't exactly in my Agenda book.
But I guess that's the problem. I have had an Agenda book since third grade, filled with organizational tools, straight lines, and inspirational quotes. My whole life has been pretty much structured, like a perfectly drafted building (please pardon the architecture analogies). My whole life until now has been a completed puzzle. As soon as my parents pulled up the driveway to what would be my new 3rd home (Art+Arch building is my 2nd home) known as Morrill Hall and popped the truck door open, the pieces to my life fell out. Clothes sprung out of overstuffed tubs as my family and I attempted to carry it 3 flights. Cardboard boxes gave in and contents spilled. Now, when I say my life fell out, I don't mean that my life fell apart. I simply mean that my perfect puzzle had been knocked off the table and 2000 pieces had disconnected. Disconnected so I can connect them. Now that I'm here, in this new place with these new people, I get to connect my own puzzle. It's my turn to start new.
Before my mother starts to dial my number and call me to tell me that I'm crazy, please understand me. I still have the same pieces. I still have the boarder pieces called my family. I still have the jagged pieces that hold everything together called Christ. I am not creating a new puzzle or a new picture. I'm not the one who keeps it together. It's just me, taking the pieces, examining them, piling similar ones together. It's me understanding what pieces I have and how they fit together. It is this experience called college that allows me to think for myself, that challenges me mentally, academically, socially, physically, and most importantly spiritually. This 2000 piece puzzle that I can attempt but not complete on my own. Without a Friend, without a Father, it will remain an unfinished rectangle of art with missing spots. Besides, I would lose pieces of my life if it weren't for a Friend to pick them up so I can clearly see them.
