Sometimes, on my way to class, a song will come on, a song that was my home when I was facing my first few weeks as a college freshman. 

The transformation, like Cinderella’s dress, happens quickly. I’m back in bed. Not my bed now — my bed then. Tears drying on my face. The ache in my throat as I speak to my mom on the phone. Her voice through the speaker: We love you.

I miss home. 

I’m not even that far away. I wasn’t then and I’m not now. An hour and forty five minutes. 

There’s something about the feeling of loneliness, helplessness, that makes any distance an ocean. Transformation.

I didn’t know what I was facing. But crying didn’t do me any good then, and it doesn’t do me any good now.

I’m stronger now. I have loving friends, and I’m better acquainted with my future. It’s less of a dark void now. Transformation.

Like a fairy tale, the happily ever after always comes. I might still be waiting for it, but I can see it’s on its way. I go through the motions. I go to class, office hours, the store. Getting nearer now.

Waiting for the transformation.

Today, I walk through the rain. My shoes get soaked. I have an umbrella, learned from my mistakes. I wave to a friend. A song comes on. I smile.

Transformed.

As an outsider to Wooster, looking in, my heart was full of optimism. The day of my tour was bright and sunny, and my heart was optimistic. Like many of us, as soon as I actually got here, I felt like I’d bit off more than I could chew, like I couldn’t do this. I missed my friends and family, and I thought I’d never acclimate to college life. I didn’t feel prepared. For my blog post, I wanted to focus on that feeling that so many of us know: the specific moment of that phone call with your parents, telling them everything that’s going wrong, how scared you are, how lonely you feel. I wanted to take that feeling and show its evolution to today. Adjustment is an ongoing process, and I’m still learning to live with the ways my life is different, but I’ve changed so much and learned to be excited for change. I might always have that feeling following me, but at least I’ve transformed to be okay with it.

Distant Aunt:             So, what are you majoring in?
You (cheerfully):        English! [or fill in your own Liberal Arts major here]
Distant Aunt:             English? What are you going to do with that – be a barista??
You:                            . . . .         

“English makes me happy”

I did not come to a Liberal Arts College knowing what I would major in. I came knowing I needed to explore things outside my comfort zone. My first selection of classes was entirely exploratory, with an emphasis on those General Education courses which would not require an early wake-up.

I have wanted to bore my name into the world with writing since the sixth grade. English classes gave me the opportunity to watch how the old literary masters did. My first semester college-level English course was at the 300 level, African American Women’s Literature. It plunged me into the deep end of critical race theory and a lot of postmodern philosophy. I almost drowned in it but learned to balance the overwhelming new information with what I put together from high school. Now Postmodern Philosophy is my absolute favorite.

I love those late nights wandering around campus thinking. English taught me how to free my head in that way. The cool night air, the loneliness, wind on the leaves have a strange way of soothing my strained mind. When an idea for what to write is so close, sometimes freedom is all I need. I ask the same question twenty times over and I hurdle the intellectual blocks. That is a spiritual experience, and even though it sometimes yields concessions, it always helps me write something better.

English also gives me an excuse to brand myself in the job market. In an increasingly competitive field like Data Science, a brand distinguishes individual candidates. This is the crossover between the two fields I want to explore, especially because language is an ever-evolving thing. How close could we get to teaching a computer to read?