|
Fears have a way of sneaking up on me. They hit me out of no where—bam! I fear knocking permanent teeth out, acquiring the avian flu, and El niño’s possible return. They come without warning, and really, without reason. But they haunt me. Most recently, however, I have been plagued by a more serious concern than my ever-present horror of being walked in on in a public restroom. It is the future.
Or my lack thereof.
I was sitting in Bio 101 (ironically) when it struck me. Unable to engage full concentration during a lecture on the great powers of the urinary track, I became acutely aware of my surroundings. I was completely bounded by fresh meat. Bright-eyed children, fresh off the high school scene. 18! Oh, naiveté.
Now 22, I know these things. These little ducklings have four years ahead—four years to participate in a sort of collegeic vagabonding. What luxury. In this moment I did what anyone would do and quickly mapped out four possible life plans. Normally engaging in the practice of a four-year plan, I had to stick with four. It brought me a sort of temporary inner-peace.
- PeaceCorps
- Teach for America
- AmeriCorps
- Live at home?
Soon after drafting the list, I was struck with questions—funking with my overall four point schema. Should I live with my friends? Should I live with my boyfriend? Should I own a dog soon? Should I be taking notes right now? Can anyone see what I’m doing? Are most people “list” people? It was surely an unnecessary stressor at 8:42 a.m.
Half-listening to the lecture, the word “review” resounded in the classroom. While the other 39 budding young scholars opened their textbooks to page 137 to review terms, I realized what should be number one on my list: graduate school. I love the Princeton Review. Truly. It is my old standby. Some people binge eat, others smoke cigarettes, I scan the Princeton Review in times of peril.
Ever since that fateful morning, I have spent the better part of this semester obsessively checking the Princeton Review. You just can never be too sure of a change in ranking or a possible influx of applicants. It is a wild world out there. So yes, I frequent the Review. Often. It has become a fixed part of my schedule. I am not ashamed.
I love the thought of continuous academia, and the Princeton Review is my never-ending supply of all things college. It is truly a beautiful creation. I missed the deadline for Teach for America, scared myself out of the Peace Corps, and couldn’t navigate the AmeriCorps site. So currently, I am left with the sweet dream of graduate school, or heading back to the homeland. It’s interesting how my four-tiered plan crumbled so quickly before my eyes.
So I of course had to draft another plan—this time an eight-fold plan, a list of graduate schools that might have a possible interest in my attendance. I hope. From Wisconsin to New York, I am keeping it all wide open; you just cannot be too flexible these days. This plan may soon crumble though, I recently discovered the Princeton Review has career offerings—I think this may be my true calling. |
