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My mother got an e-mail from New College, letting us know that they don't have the room for me this year.
::sigh:: Damn.
Well, my options are as follows:
- apply to every Floridian college known to man, with no thought to preferance, in hopes of slipping in under the underclassmen-limit that new tax cuts have impossed upon our schools, and pray
- go to community college for a year, figure out what the hell I want to do, and slip in through the back door of a state college
- get a job, get enough money for a car, pack my bags, and hit the road.
Choices. Choices.
Sheer lazy and personal preferance bids me to take option #2, because, no, I still dont know what I want to be when I grow up. And community college would at least give me a general idea of whats out there. But its not the step forward towards liberaton and self-sufficiency that I was planning on making upon my triumphant return. I'd still be in town, a thought that makes my skin do creepy-crawly things.
And as of right now, hitting the road with little more than four wheels, limited gas, and the clothes on my back is a bit too risky. If I fear crashing and burning socially and professionally in college, it will be just that much more violent on my own.
I don't exactly feel the steel jaws of The Limited Future closing on my neck, but I know they're there. I need to have an epiphany, or just a whole lot of luck if I'm gonna dodge the Office Space rut that I seem to see looming in my vision more and more often. Because the thought of going to school in my home town, finding a hubby, settling down with a picket fence and dog, optional children and a triple morgage... I'm getting less and less space to move. My options are limiting themselves as time passes.
Alarmist? Maybe. But I feel nauseous at the thought of a desk job. I would literally crack, and would most likely take others down with me. But the ones who break out, who find something that they truely want to do, do it by luck, and skill. And I seem to be lacking in both.
They never tell you that growing up is this tough.
::sigh:: Damn.
Well, my options are as follows:
- apply to every Floridian college known to man, with no thought to preferance, in hopes of slipping in under the underclassmen-limit that new tax cuts have impossed upon our schools, and pray
- go to community college for a year, figure out what the hell I want to do, and slip in through the back door of a state college
- get a job, get enough money for a car, pack my bags, and hit the road.
Choices. Choices.
Sheer lazy and personal preferance bids me to take option #2, because, no, I still dont know what I want to be when I grow up. And community college would at least give me a general idea of whats out there. But its not the step forward towards liberaton and self-sufficiency that I was planning on making upon my triumphant return. I'd still be in town, a thought that makes my skin do creepy-crawly things.
And as of right now, hitting the road with little more than four wheels, limited gas, and the clothes on my back is a bit too risky. If I fear crashing and burning socially and professionally in college, it will be just that much more violent on my own.
I don't exactly feel the steel jaws of The Limited Future closing on my neck, but I know they're there. I need to have an epiphany, or just a whole lot of luck if I'm gonna dodge the Office Space rut that I seem to see looming in my vision more and more often. Because the thought of going to school in my home town, finding a hubby, settling down with a picket fence and dog, optional children and a triple morgage... I'm getting less and less space to move. My options are limiting themselves as time passes.
Alarmist? Maybe. But I feel nauseous at the thought of a desk job. I would literally crack, and would most likely take others down with me. But the ones who break out, who find something that they truely want to do, do it by luck, and skill. And I seem to be lacking in both.
They never tell you that growing up is this tough.
