I wish I had been slapped silly a year ago amidst the preparation for college. In place of a physical smackdown, I was struck with the tenacious jaws of the college admissions process, intimidated with the evil, scrutinizing eyes of standardized tests, and finally stabbed with the reality of financial aid. Yet I wish I had been physically scolded, physically told that in the end I would still be okay.

 

There was a lot to worry about a year ago. Right now, I’m stuck in that awkward college purgatory known as “freshman year”, where the line between high school and college is blurred, but the sentiment of worry is still close in mind. It was a whole different arena in terms of worry a year ago. It was as if my life were dependent on one instant; one moment would decide absolutely everything. What I’ve realized is that life brandishes a little flexibility. One’s track is never set in stone – in fact, one of the biggest changes I’ve noticed in my life is the flexibility I currently have.

 

There is no rigid schedule here. Despite the technicalities of missing class, I can get up whenever I want and do so legally, and eat whatever I want at whatever time I want. This is an overload of freedom that is ironically restrictive. I can totally drive over to Mcdonalds at 3 a.m., skip an exam, and pass out when the sun’s over the horizon — but would that be a fun time? If you found yourself nodding blissfully to that curiously specific example, then I totally respect your adventurous soul, but I’m sure the consequences are a cause for worry. Disclaimer: the aforementioned event was regrettably taken from the life of yours truly.

 

While it is tempting to abuse freedom and opportunity, I am thankful that I at least have it. I found high school oppressive. I despised the routine, the standardization of education, and as is a given from my innate night owl tendencies, early class times. I left my high school building with a pent up aggression to escape and the unsatiated desire to push freedom past its limit.

 

The ability to choose is a greater responsibility than what I believe most incoming students have. I am not an exception. I have certainly worried about it. Yet I find it more comforting than restriction, more acceptable.

 

One aspect of that freedom I find acceptable is time: I have much more of it. It puts me in disbelief to imagine that at one point I was in one building for seven hours. No no no. Horror film material. The thought of that actually makes me nauseous. I don’t even want to factor in the ungodly hours at which I woke up or I’d compare it to outright torture.

 

Now is a different ball game. I have more freedom, more time, and paradoxically more responsibilities. What I wish I could tell myself a year ago are precisely those words.

 

However, far and beyond the most important change I’ve discovered is my future. My future has changed since coming to Hamline. I venture that my future is changing all the time. This time, however, thinking about my future is much more prevalent than it’s ever been. I question much more earnestly the path I’m on, where I’m going with it, what is on that path, and what lies at the end of it. It is unknown territory, and I feel like a blind cartographer mapping out the landscape.

 

I think back to a year ago, and even further back, where in some critical ways, life was simpler. I didn’t worry about classes or grades or money or whatever comes with the “adulting” package; I thought about kids’ meals and the next lego set. It’s a little upsetting to know that in the moment we may never realize that we are in the good old days.

 

My only sensible reply is that if it’s impossible to know, why worry?