College. It is what we spend the first 12 years of our education worrying about, working for etc. Well we’re here. Now what?

More class, more teachers, more papers. Honestly, nothing different from past 12 years. Paper, test, paper, test, quiz, more papers, more tests…

Then, you look up from your computer screen, which you’ve spent all night staring at, finishing that English essay that is due tomorrow. You rub your eyes, praying that you’ll be able to get to sleep before it is time for you to get up and start all over again. Finally, you pause. Breathe, and take another look.

Thinking about why in the world you are still awake, you take a peek underneath the surface of all the work that never seems to stop piling up. You suddenly unveil the newness and excitement that you’ve been hoping for. There, you find an entire world that pulls you in, and you become enwoven in the fabric of an amazing experience that will span the next four years of your life.

Yet, as I jump in, head first, excited to take the leap, I can’t help but reflect on how I got to this point. I think of how lucky I am to be able to have this experience, meet these people, join these clubs and get the most out of this vital point in my life.

My parents come to mind. They have worked so hard, worried so much, and spent so much of their energy and time on making sure that I have everything they didn’t. Without them I would be nowhere and I would never have been able to undergo such an incredible experience.

Knowing that there are so many out their who suffer on a daily basis, and who have no idea what the next minute, let alone the next day will bring, makes me appreciate all of this so much more. It makes me feel a little less tired at 4 in the morning, staring at my computer screen, finishing that English paper that is due in six hours.

So, college is different. It is different from the past twelve years and it will be different from the next twelve. It will be different from any point in our lives, and it is a time that we will forever remember with fondness and adoration. A time of stress that will be filled with plenty of worrying and sleepless nights. Even so, there is nothing like college.

Esther gives good advice.
When someone is in trouble, she talks with them.

Jay expresses his thoughts in writing.
His letter has sincerity.

Kim treats people with respect.
Everyone who knows her loves her.

Amanda loves to bake.
Her brownie makes people happy.

People who know what they like to do are happy.
Tomorrow I wish I can find mine.

And this is self-portrait I drew.

My anxiety is setting in. I had never been more nervous. Do I wear a dress? Something more casual? It’s only coffee. What kind of shoes? Heels? Flats? The options seemed endless.

My anxiety is building. I keep checking the time. I was ready an hour early. 6:00. I check again. 6:03. Again, 6:05. I was convinced this clock was moving slower than normal.

My anxiety is building. I’m pacing back and forth and back and forth. I can literally feel my heart racing. I become more aware of my breathing. I begin to rethink the entire night and consider calling the whole thing off.  I continue to pace back and forth and back and forth.

My anxiety is building. I got ready too early. I gave myself too much time to think, and to overthink. There is really nothing to stress over, but that doesn’t stop me from doing so. What if I make myself look foolish? What if I have bad breath? I brush my teeth for the third time.

My anxiety is building. 6:50. Time to leave. I get in the car, my heart still racing, my palms sweaty. I pull into the parking lot and take my keys out of the ignition. Then I consider putting them right back in and speeding back home and making up some lame excuse. No. I’ve come this far and I begin to walk towards the door.

And then I see him. He smiles. I smile. My anxiety is gone.

I awake in a daze.  My alarm goes off and the morning sun shines into my eyes.  I am reluctant to move my tired body but I know I have to get up. 

I am in a complete fog as I journey to my bathroom where I splash my face with glacial, cold water—still in a slumber.  I brush my teeth and I wash my hands and stroll back to my bedroom.  I open my closet, get dressed, and tread downstairs.  It is not until I step foot into my kitchen that I am fully aware of my surroundings. 

I look up and there she is. 

The sole purpose of my awakening; the reason I am cognizant of the world. My espresso machine.

As I walk her way, I gaze at her glory.  She is the one.  I look up into my cabinets and choose the vessel for which her nectar shall rest.  Shall I go with a simple, clear mug, or the classy slate gray?  I go with the clear.  I drop a teaspoon of sugar at the bottom of the mug, to my taste.  I open the chest of capsules and the array of colors entices my senses.  Shall I choose the golden hazelnut, or the black roast? My palate craves the black, bold espresso capsule and I place it into its rightful place.  I then walk to the refrigerator where I retrieve the light cream and pour it into the apparatus.

I choose the “cappuccino” option and I let her work her magic.  Out comes a sweltering hot shot of espresso followed by a profusion of frothed and steamed cream, another shot of espresso then follows for the grand finale.

The aroma fills the air and my senses are satisfied.  I lift the warm remedy to my lips and my day becomes a reality.

During my 6th grade, my social studies teacher invited me to go to a camping trip because I was a good student in her class. I wasn’t that interested in the trip because I never went to any camping trip before, so I declined the camping trip.

Later that day, one of my classmates who is also my neighbor came to my house and give my dad the form to the camping trip. We filled out the form knowing that he would expect me to go to the trip.

After the weekend, I brought the form with me to school. The first period of the school day after AM homeroom was Gym. I thought that I wasn’t interested in the trip, so I wet the form in the water fountain and later ripped the form into pieces. Later that day, I told teachers and students that I wasn’t interested and I had plans for other activities. The classmate who live near me heard this.

One day when I was walking home from my after school class, the classmate chased me to my home. He told my grandpa that I ripped up the form and am not going to the camping trip. When he left, I lied to my grandpa that I was going.

One evening, when my father picked me, my grandpa, and the classmate from the after school, the classmate told my dad that I ripped up the form and was not going to the trip. My dad tried to punish me but the classmate told my dad that there is school.

On the day before the trip, the students who were going to the trip were given a list of items to bring to the camp. I kept quiet because I don’t want to tell the teacher that I wasn’t going.