I applied Early Decision to Middlebury.
To someone not from the East Coast and/or who doesn't treat liberal arts college admission as a competitive sport, that doesn't mean much.
Middlebury College is a gorgeous college in Middlebury, Vermont. It is a very academic, very preppy, and very picturesque place. I had decided that's where I would be an English major, run around in autumnal splendor, and spend four years becoming my most awesome self.
Here's a picture, so you can picture it:
|Image credit. Seriously, right???|
Apparently, Middlebury was not as enamored of me as I was of them. My application was deferred to the regular decision applicant pool, which was a hard core slap in the face to my idealistic, enthusiastic, overachieving high school self. That means you have to apply to other colleges and, like, wait it out. [Insert Kristin Stewart's one facial expression.]
So, the search continued. The family search committee, led by Captain Dad, the College Hunter, explored New England, because that's where I had decided I wanted to be.
We visited a lot of places. [Smiley face.] One of them was Bates. Bates is cool. I walked around the campus to do a "vibe check." I liked it. I didn't feel out of place, like I was dressed like an idiot, or like people realized I was a stranger. Hmm.
And, let's not overlook that Bates is also gorgeous, very academic, very preppy, and very picturesque.
|We totally had classes sitting outside on the Quad. Not even joking.|
|This picture does not show a lot of snow. |
When you live in Maine, this is not a lot of snow.
As it turned out, Middlebury did accept me. But by then, Bates had already accepted me, too. Faced with the decision of where to go, I found myself totally happy about the thought of going to Bates. I also found myself completely annoyed with Middlebury for making me wait for so long and feel all icky and half-rejected.
I realized that I was just a name on a list. (Granted, this was true at both schools but it pissed me off vis a vis Middlebury.) And that if I didn't take the spot, they would call some other girl and make her happy that she'd finally gotten in.
Screw that!, I thought, with a lot of emotional bravado, to myself, at age 18.
I'm going to Maine.
And so, I did. It was awesome. And I, as predicted, was an English major, ran around in autumnal (and snowy) splendor, and spent four years becoming my most real self. It was fan.tas.tic.
Where was I going with this?
Oh, it was cold today in Austin, and this happened.
And my heart burst into a million pieces, and I don't even want to think about him going to kindergarten, much less college, and I got all nostalgic for Maine and changing leaves, and how was college so long ago? and sunrise, sunset so quickly go the days...you know?
Hope you find an unexpected wellspring of emotional bravado today.